A snarl ripped through the warehouse, deep and furious.
Arnie’s head snapped toward the sound, his eyes narrowing.
“That f*****g wolf,” he muttered. “I hate that f*****g wolf.”
“Archer!” Abby screamed, relief warring with the panic that had been clawing up her throat. “Archer!”
Arnie struck her before she could say anything else. His fist slammed into the side of her face, snapping her head sideways. Her teeth sank into her tongue. The taste of blood flooded her mouth, hot and metallic, and she gagged on it.
Another snarl. Louder. Closer.
The sound vibrated through the concrete.
Arnie’s weight shifted off her. Abby blinked through tears and blood, forcing her vision to focus.
He stood a few feet away now, knife still in hand.
And between the pallets, stepping into the open aisle,
