Free Pack Justice (Nature of the Beast Book 1) by RJ Blain Page B

favor; she had tied me to the car, but the knots were loose, the loops were large and within my reach. While she fought with a rusty screw on the other car, I grabbed the leather leash in my teeth, tugging until I could pull free.
    When hunting as a cheetah, sudden movement drew my eye to prey, so I made a slow and silent escape, limping my way across the road towards the highway. With luck, the fumes of passing cars and trucks would hide my scent, as long as I remained hidden from sight.
    I left without looking back.

    I carried my leash in my mouth so I wouldn’t trip over it, following the highway west. I had no idea what state I was in, but the highway was divided by thick grasses, providing me with plenty of places to hide. The cooked meat, while vile, filled me with restless energy. The throb in my paw and the confines of the harness kept me at a walk despite my desire to break into a lope.
    Once I was far enough away Idette had no hope of finding me, I’d howl my joy to the star-lit sky. I had no idea how far I could go before I’d have to hunt, so I made the most of the opportunity, pushing as fast as I could. The leather rubbed me raw, but the pain came second to my fear the human woman I loathed would discover my disappearance and hunt for me.
    Without her in my life, I could explore the wilds and hunt without worry. Somewhere far away, I would find a place to den, prey on the weak, and eat my fill. I reveled as the ties binding me to the human world crumbled around me.
    Idette had held me captive long enough no one would believe I lived.
    I was free.
    My beasts rejoiced with me, their welcoming calls resounding in my head and driving away the last vestiges of guilt over the few humans I left behind.
    They, too, would forget in time.
    I followed the highway until sunrise. During the quiet of predawn, I crossed the asphalt, venturing into the grasslands. Red and gray rose up in the distance, and not even the silver and car fumes clinging to the roadway masked the hint of dust in the air.
    There was a lot of barren land in the Midwest perfect for a wolf to roam, and my excitement surged at the thought of exploring it all with four legs instead of two. With sharp rocks aplenty, I could rid myself of the silver chains, allowing me to remove the harness and collar. Once I shed the evidence of captivity, I’d be truly free.
    I was a wolf with a cheetah’s fleet strength and cunning. The human in me offered nothing but worry over matters too removed to matter.
    All that mattered was survival. The rest could wait.

    I rolled on pebble-strewn, cracked ground until the silver chains glued to my harness broke and fell away. The metal burned through my fur, and I whined at the stench of fur and flesh searing from the silver’s influence. I didn’t stop until the straps I intended to chew through were covered in nothing more than dust and glue residue.
    After so much abuse, the leather was stiff and cracked under my teeth. When the first strap snapped, I wiggled and squirmed until I could chew on the final band securing the harness to me.
    By noon, scraps of leather were scattered over the ground. The collar resisted my efforts, but instead of trying to claw or chew on it, I turned it so I could get at the buckle, whining as I had to first scratch away the silver. My pads bled, and my claws blackened, but I didn’t give up until I managed to break through the abused leather.
    I shed the last evidence of humanity as the last light of day died, and I howled my victory. A distant cry answered me, and the wavering sound stirred my spirit beasts. The hunger for the hunt burned in me, and my need startled both of them. Turning my ears back, I huffed and warbled my desire.
    I wanted to run fast and far. I longed for the chase, and the way my cheetah’s body whipped through the grasses. I growled, frustrated at my small size and impotency.
    My wolf’s body was weary, burned, and worn from our captivity. I shook out my fur,