Page 42 of Break Out the Girl

My head jerks to the side, my jaw aching from the sudden impact. I blink, the gray mist clearing from my eyes, and find myself staring right into the dirt-smudged face of Basil Fuckwad.

He’s standing directly over me, eyes blazing with the fiercest fury I’ve ever seen in a boy called Basil. “Shut the fuck up, you absolute lunatic,” he spits, poking me hard in the center of my chest with the end of his pipe. “I didn’t just get out of these cuffs to have some goat-weirdo fuck things up and get me caught again.”

My mouth hangs open. “Basil Fuckwad,” I whisper. “You have an enviable brass pair.”

Whereas I seem to be bottling it.

The slap really helped, so I give myself another.

Slaperino.

It’s not as hard as Basil’s but still a-OK. That’s better. “Basil, my old son,” I say, springing back up to my feet. “You are an absolute champ.”

Basil just rolls his eyes, gripping his metal pipe tight. “You’re all fucking mental. Can we go now?”

14: TALIESIN

They’ve been ten minutes.

It seems longer, much longer.

My wolf-ears twist toward the eastern wing, and I strain to filter out the coastal wind and the distant slosh of waves against rocks.

There’s a ventilation grate at the base of the mansion's foundation and muffled voices are carrying up from the meeting room.

My wolf focuses on the words.

“…don't care what the Havengard Network is broadcasting,” a voice snaps. “The Quo breakout is not our problem. Thomas Crankshawe can wave his hundred-grand bounty around all he wants, but it doesn't change our timeline. The buyers are arriving imminently. If I see one of your men staring at a news feed or tracking mainland alerts instead of tending to your duties, I’ll personally see you become unemployable, permanently—understand?”

A chorus of grunted agreements echo through the vent.

Hmm.

There was a vague chance that the Warden could connect the dots between Sky being taken and our escape, but was unlikely. Why would two Elites bother themselves with an Ashgrave orphan? These men have no reason to think that we’d be headed this way.

“How is the product?” It’s a different voice.

“The first officer reports they’re mostly sleeping, locked in the lower galley,” someone else replies. “Said none of them even got seasick, so good work with the roofies. We should do that every time.”

“Nah, some love the fighters.”

I suppress a snarl.

The deep voice speaks again. “Enough. Once The Carnivàle hits international waters, the bidding opens. This place will be virtually empty for the next twenty-four hours. During that time, I want a maintenance team to replace all the window locks. And bleach out the basement. It stinks. Has anyone seen Carl?”

“He hasn’t been answering. Fucker probably got high and is off sleeping.”

“Find him, and bring him to me. What the fuck do you people think this place is? Summer camp? Fuck. I’m reporting to Mr. Grieves in five. He’ll want to know if you assholes are slacking.”

As the main guy continues instructing his grunts on the courtyard security rotations, the wind shifts, blowing a fresh scent straight into my muzzle.

Rory.

They’re on their way, getting closer.

I stay in position and the next words I hear through the grate are unwelcome.

“Meeting adjourned. Get to your stations.”