Free Werewolf Suspense (Book 1): Outage by T.W. Piperbrook

long enough to escape?
    She swallowed, but held her position. The gun was heavy in her hands.
    What if there were no bullets? What if she missed? What if—
    Abby paused, noticing a break in the noise. The beast had either reached the landing, or it had heard her swallow. Did it know where she was? Could it sense her?
    Her hands trembled.
    The beast snorted.
    Abby jumped, barely keeping hold of the gun. Nothing appeared. The sliver of hallway in front of her was vacant. But she could sense the thing's presence.  
    It was right behind the door.
    It chuffed again. The stench of blood and beast was overwhelming, drowning out her other senses. She repressed the urge to be sick.
    The thing's head appeared. At first, all she could see was the tip of its nose, but then she saw an eye, the matted fold of an ear. The thing was only a few feet away—close enough to reach out and grab her.
    In the time she'd been running, this was the closest she'd been to it. The closest she'd come to death.
    She held the gun and prepared to squeeze the trigger.
    The thing continued down the hallway.
    Abby exhaled. Her body felt like it was stretched taut, and her mind spit rapid-fire. She heard the faint creak of a floorboard from down the hall. The thing had gone into the bedroom.  
    Move.
    The word popped into her brain as if it had been planted there, and suddenly Abby was pulling open the door and slipping into the hallway. There was no time to question what she was doing.  
    There was only time to act.  
    She glanced left, glimpsing the creature's shadow. Although she couldn't be certain, it looked like it was facing the other direction. Without hesitation, she crept down the hallway, heading for the stairs. The carpet kept her cover, and soon she was departing the landing and making her way down the stairs.  
    Her body moved as if it were on autopilot; she couldn't feel her legs. It was as if some outside force were propelling her down the stairs, guiding her to safety. She fixed her eyes on the open door, fighting the urge to look behind her. Only five more steps . She was going to make it. The beast was still occupied. It hadn't gotten a look at her. She'd survive, even though all the others had died.
    She'd get help and then—
    Something struck her from behind, and Abby toppled down the remaining stairs. The gun and the knife flew from her grasp, skittering into unseen corners. She hit the foyer hard, deprived of air, and cried out as blood sprayed inside her mouth.
    Claws grabbed her head and slammed her into the ground.

PART THREE: THE KILL

Chapter Twelve

    Abby awoke with a start. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out, but it couldn't have been long, judging by the fact that she was still alive. But something was on top of her. The creature had her pinned.
    She struggled and writhed under the weight of its body, and its breath threatened to smother her. If it didn't rip her open, she'd die from being crushed.
    From what she could tell, she was still in the foyer, lying on her stomach. In the corner of her eye she could see the open door; behind her were flashes of movement. Her vision was still bleary from passing out. She pushed with all her strength, but the thing had her immobilized.
    Was this how Rob had felt?
    Tears savaged her eyes, and before she knew it she was crying and fighting, spitting and lashing out. The thing behind her snarled, as if hoping to subdue her, but she ignored it and began to scream.
    "Stop! Get off me!"
    She knew the words were useless, but her mind was ramped up on adrenaline, her synapses firing at breakneck speed. Abby's instincts had taken over, and she'd do anything she could to stay alive.  
    She had the sudden realization that she was cold, and she ceased screaming.  
    I'm cut. He's torn me open.
    She waited for the unbearable pain to overtake her, but it never came. It took her a second to realize that only her coat had been ripped.
    Abby wriggled back and forth, sloughing off her jacket.