Part 4
He turned and walked away, melting into the shadows.
In the center of the cage sat a single metal folding chair. Charlie lowered herself onto it, the cold metal biting through her damp clothes. She took in her surroundings. Deeper into the warehouse she could see towers of wooden pallets and floor-to-ceiling metal shelves still holding some boxes.
Is this really happening? she thought. Is he really about to hunt me? And I still don’t even understand exactly what that means…
She sat there for a good hour, maybe an hour and a half. It had to be past 3:00 a.m. by now. The twisted excitement from earlier had worn off, replaced by crushing exhaustion. She’d been up for nearly twenty-four hours straight. Her head grew heavy. She could almost doze off right there on the uncomfortable chair.
Then echoing footsteps broke the silence.
Charlie jerked upright, instantly alert.
Mr. Wolf emerged from the darkness, walking toward her with slow, deliberate strides. As he got closer, his deep voice rolled through the cage.
“How is my prey feeling?”
She stood up. “How am I feeling? I’m feeling like an animal locked in a cage.”
He stopped just outside the mesh, watching her with that same calm intensity. “Oh, you poor little thing,” he said, a hint of dark amusement in his tone. “Opportunity presented itself… and I am nothing if not opportunistic.”
He stood there for a long moment, simply observing her. Charlie rose to meet his eyes.
“Sit,” he commanded.
Her body obeyed before her brain could protest. She fell back onto the chair.
“Now I need you to listen closely,” he continued. “We have this whole warehouse to ourselves. Think of it as our playground.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “I’m going to let you out of here. You’re going to hide. You’re going to evade me. And you’re going to avoid capture.”
He stepped forward, unlocked the padlock, and swung the heavy gate open.
“Come here, little one.”
Timidly, Charlie rose and walked toward him. When she was close enough to feel the heat of his body, he leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, whispered growl against her ear.
“Run.”
Part 5
For a second Charlie just stood there, frozen, staring at him.
Mr. Wolf’s mouth curved into a slow, predatory grin — all teeth, no warmth. His dark eyes gleamed in the faint moonlight slipping through the high windows.
“Ten,” he said, voice low and calm.
The single word snapped her out of her stupor. She spun on her heel and bolted for the big warehouse door they had come through. Her shoes clattered loudly against the concrete as she slammed her hands into the heavy metal. It didn’t budge. Her fingers scrabbled over the surface until she felt it — the same type of thick padlock that had sealed her cage. Locked.
“Nine.”
Shit.
She whipped around. The only way was deeper into the warehouse, into the maze of shadows, pallets, and shelves. Heart hammering, she kicked into a sprint.
“Eight.”
Her shoe caught on a crack in the floor. She stumbled hard, barely catching herself. With a frustrated growl she hopped on one foot, then the other, yanking off both shoes. She clutched them in one hand and kept running, bare feet slapping against the cold concrete as she plunged into the darkness.
“Seven.”
She ducked behind a tall stack of wooden pallets, pressing her back to the rough wood. Her lungs burned. She tried to quiet her breathing, but every inhale sounded deafening to her own ears.
What the hell have I gotten myself into? The thought raced through her mind. How far is he willing to take this? How is this going to end?
“Six.”
She couldn’t stay here. Not this close. She darted to the right, slipping down a long aisle flanked by towering metal shelves. About halfway down she crouched low behind a large cardboard box, trying to make herself small.
A cold droplet landed on her bare foot. Then another. Her coat was still soaked from the storm. She looked down. A small trail of water droplets glistened on the concrete, leading straight to her hiding spot.
Oh no.
“Five.”
Without thinking, she shrugged out of the wet coat and dropped it in a crumpled pile beside her shoes. The cool air hit her damp blouse, raising goosebumps across her skin. She crawled on hands and knees out the far side of the aisle and into the next row.
“Four.”
She stayed low, moving only a couple of sections down before tucking herself behind another stack of boxes. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
My keys—
They were still in the coat pocket.
“Three.”
She hesitated only a second before crawling back the way she’d come, moving as quietly as she could. She reached the discarded coat, fished the keys out, and shoved them deep into the front pocket of her pants.
“Two.”
She scurried back to her new hiding place, heart in her throat.
A long, heavy silence stretched through the warehouse.
Then his voice rolled through the darkness, smooth, deep, and far too pleased.
“One… Ready or not, little mouse.”
Part 6
She didn’t hear him until he was almost on top of her original hiding spot.
“Oh… clever little thing,” Mr. Wolf murmured, the words drifting through the darkness like smoke. She heard the soft rustle of fabric as he picked up her discarded coat. “Where could the mouse have gone?”
Charlie stayed frozen behind the boxes, palms pressed to the cold metal of the shelf, heart hammering so hard she was sure he could hear it. She held her breath until her lungs burned.
His footsteps moved closer, slow and deliberate.
When he passed her row, she counted to five in her head, then crawled out as quietly as she could and sprinted back up the aisle toward the center of the warehouse.
“I hear you, little mouse,” he called after her, the low chuckle in his voice making her stomach flip.
She was making too much noise. Way too much. As she neared the end of the aisle she forced herself to slow, walking on the balls of her bare feet, every step careful and silent. There has to be another exit, she thought. If I can just find it…
She veered left and tucked herself behind a new tower of wooden pallets, pressing her back to the rough wood. She stayed perfectly still until she heard him stop on the opposite side of the stack.
A deep inhale. He held it.
On the slow exhale came his voice, velvet and amused.
“I smell you, little mouse. It’s not going to be that easy to hide.”
Panic surged. She bolted down the aisle behind her, ducking low and sliding behind another set of boxes, then repeating the move into the next aisle. When she reached the end she stopped, chest heaving.
Think. Think harder.
Her eyes flicked upward. The metal shelving units were only about five feet high on the second shelf. She grabbed the edge, pulled herself up as quietly as she could, and crawled behind a row of dusty cardboard boxes on the second shelf.
“The little mouse thinks she’s so smart,” he said from somewhere below, voice laced with dark amusement. “But this is my game. Not hers.”
A box right beside her head scraped across the metal shelf.
Charlie froze.
His face appeared inches from hers, dark eyes gleaming.
“Not as smart as she thinks she is.”
She dropped down into the next aisle and ran.
He was right behind her.
She sprinted toward the rear of the warehouse, bare feet slapping concrete, his heavy footsteps closing the gap—ten feet, eight, six. The back wall was a maze of old machinery and equipment. At the last second she cut left. He lunged, fingers brushing the back of her blouse but missing.
She squeezed between two massive machines, heart exploding, and dropped to her stomach. She crawled underneath the nearest one feet first, curling into the tight, dusty space, lungs screaming for air.
Exhausted, she lay there trying to catch her breath.
Then she saw them.
Her keys. They must have fallen out of her pocket when she’d squeezed under the machine. They lay on the concrete just beyond her hiding spot, glinting faintly in the moonlight.
His boots stopped a few feet away.
He bent. The keys scraped against the floor as he picked them up. For one breathless second she saw she was caught.
But he kept walking and then there was silence again.
Then two strong hands locked around her ankles.
He yanked her out in one smooth pull. Before she could even scream he hauled her upright by her ponytail, spun her around, and slammed her back against the cold metal of the machine. His chest pressed hard into hers, pinning her there. He was breathing steady and deep, barely winded.
Charlie stared up at him, chest heaving, every inch of her body buzzing.
Mr. Wolf looked down at her, eyes dark and victorious.
“Caught you, mouse.”