Free Dogs of War Episode 5 by Monica Rossi Page A

shitting me? I told him what they were up to and he still tried to go alone.”
    Sidney was all ears, something was going on with the Dogs.
    “Oh, he took two prospects, both who are now also being held prisoner, and a guy who just switched team mid season. Yeah, I see your point. Real smart of him.”
    She wanted to interrupt, to ask what was going on, even if it wasn’t any of her business. If it involved Red she needed to know.
    “Goddamnit. I’ll be there in a few. Get everyone else together because we’re leaving in an hour.”
    Demon hung up and stuck the phone back in his jeans, “I’ve got to go, will you take care of all of this?” He indicated the picnic supplies.
    “What’s going on?”
    He ran his hand through his hair, “Well, if you must know, your dumbass ex-boyfriend managed to row all the way up shit creek, and not only did he forget a paddle, he forgot the whole damn boat. And as usual, little brother has to go drag his drowning ass up out the water. “

 
    He was dehydrated. He hadn’t been given food, water, or any medical attention and Red was pretty sure the situation was on the verge of being dire. It hurt to be alive.
    He’d tried to sleep, sitting in the wheelchair they’d left him in with his head propped against the wall, but the pain was too much. If they’d left him untied because they’d assumed he was too weak and injured to try to escape, they had assumed correctly.
    At some point time had ceased to have meaning. There was no clock on the wall, no window to see the sun or moon, no way to tell how long he’d been there when every second felt like he were about to die.
    Footsteps tromped down the hall every so often, and each time he hoped it was someone coming in to either kill him or relieve some of the pain. He’d have cried with gratitude if someone had just come in and handed him a glass of water.
    Eventually, someone did come in. But they had no medical equipment, nor a gun aimed at his head, nor a glass of water.
    It was Frederick again, dressed in a different version of the same suit he’d worn before, looking just as clean-cut and emotionless as before.
    “So, I hope you’ve had time to mull over your options.”
    Red tried to nod. He’d thought long and hard about the situation.
    “Good, good. And what decision have you come to?”
    He knew what his answer was, but he wasn’t ready to give it. “Water?” he croaked, the effort of speaking making his throat feel like it was about to crack open.
    “Of course, how rude of me,” Frederick pulled out his phone and instructed someone to bring water.
    They both waited in silence until a woman in the same kind of blue scrubs the man, John, had worn, brought in a pitcher of water, two glasses, and a small bowl of cut lemons.
    “Very nice, thank you.” Frederick looked at Red, “Would you like a twist of lemon in yours?”
    Red lifted an eyebrow. He wanted to take the entire icy pitcher and pour it into his mouth, he didn’t give any fucks about a lemon.
    Frederick smiled as he handed Red a glass, sans lemon, “I think I like you. I don’t generally have an affinity towards many people, but with just a raised brow you made me understand exactly how you felt about my silly lemon question. I haven’t been so amused in a long time.”
    Red ignored him and concentrated on the sweet feeling of the water sliding down his parched throat, filling the empty hole inside him he hadn’t been aware was there. “More?” He limply held out the empty glass.
    “Why, not.” Frederick took the glass and refilled it. “Yes I think we’re going to do splendidly well together. Big Dog was just not bright enough for the task at hand, but I can tell that you’re a cut above. Just think Red, all of the shifters united together, under your leadership. No more squabbling over stupid turf wars, over someone cutting into your market. No, all of you working together with one goal.”
    Red drank slower, licking his lips between sips.