Endangered Species
Joker

Betty finally left after giving me a silk nightgown to wear. “The Alpha will be back for a late dinner,” she told me before going. “Your first impressions were not good. It is best for everyone if you change that quickly.”

“That’s an interesting perspective. I’ll have to take that under consideration,” I replied cooly. It was what my father would say at work when someone above him suggested doing something that he knew was completely idiotic. It was a fancy way to say “fuck you” without getting in trouble. I didn’t need Delta Betty as an enemy, but she wasn’t the one being prettied up for the rape party later.

The bedroom didn’t have that lived-in look. Most of the drawers were empty, though I did replace a pair of pull-string basketball shorts that went below my knees and a T-shirt that hung like a dress nearly as far. It was better than the lingerie I was supposed to wear. I tossed that on a chair by the bed and went exploring.

The bathroom was a loss; nothing more dangerous than nail clippers remained after Betty’s removals. The sitting area had a large flat-panel monitor on the wall, but I couldn’t replace anything but static. The desk drawers had some basic office supplies but no private files or information. If he did administration, he must have an office elsewhere.

The bedroom held a King bed, two bedside tables, and a dresser. A small closet had his raingear, winter clothing, two gray suits, and several camouflage utility sets. On the floor was a half-dozen pairs of shoes and boots.

On the top of the dresser were two eight-by-ten photos. One showed the Alpha in climbing gear at the base of Mount Rainier with three other men and one woman; I recognized one of the men from the dining hall. The second showed him at the summit, his arm around the shoulders of the gorgeous brunette. They looked happy, with big smiles on their windburned faces.

Maybe that was why he didn’t seem thrilled to have me as his mate. He was aroused by my presence and protective of me, but he didn’t stick around to talk. Instead, he sent me off with an underling to his bedroom, where I could waste away the hours until he’d finished the important stuff in his life. When he needed his lusts sated, he’d force me into giving him what he wanted.

I wasn’t going to go quietly.

I needed weapons, and I hadn’t seen any. I’d have to make something.

I went back to the picture of the Alpha and his girlfriend. Removing the back, I pulled out the piece of sheet glass before putting it back together. If you didn’t look directly at it, you would not notice the glass was gone. There was a roll of red duct tape in with the office supplies, and I grabbed that. I carefully broke the glass sheet until I had four triangular-shaped shards that would work. The rest I placed carefully in the bottom of the trash can, below the Kleenex and papers.

I wrapped the base of the triangles with duct tape, creating four knife-like weapons that could slice or stab. They would be fragile, but that might be all right. If I could stab directly into flesh, a twist of my wrist could break the chunk off and keep my victim from removing it. I stashed one in the bed, tucked under the fitted sheet between the mattress and the padded headboard. The second went under the Kleenex box on the bathroom vanity. The third I taped to the leg of the dining table. I wanted to have one close to me, no matter where I was in his room.

The fourth knife was the smallest, and I spent more time with it. I used a narrow built-up strip of tape at the transition from grip to glass to give my hand something to push against if it started to slip. I also used duct tape to make a sheath for it, allowing me to carry it in my shorts.

As I slid it into my pocket, I wondered if I was kidding myself in thinking I could fight back. The Alpha was twice my size and had more training. I could only escape if I could defeat the Alpha and evade his Pack. I could take advantage of him when he was distracted or sleeping, but the rest would be a real challenge. They’d killed Mike and captured me without breaking a sweat, and his men had overrun a facility staffed by a battalion of Marines.

And if I fled, I condemned hundreds of innocent women to a horrific fate. If he mated with me, I might be able to influence his decisions and improve their treatment. Could I swallow my pride and revulsion long enough to play a convincing game of house with a monster like that? Could I pretend to like it when he rapes me night after night?

The other option would be to take away his shiny new toy. I pulled out the knife and looked at it; I could stab my neck, leg, or chest. If I cut an artery or penetrated the heart, it was over. They wouldn’t have the people or the facilities to save me.

I wallowed in those thoughts, but one thing pulled me out. It was the Message to Garcia. I had my orders, and Mike’s death didn’t change the mission. Being a mate didn’t change the mission. There was no chain of command to report to on this base, so I had to replace a working radio or escape and travel to another military base.

I put the knife back in the sheath, then tucked it away. I knew that killing myself or the Alpha wouldn’t change the facts of the situation. This mess was international in scale, and I had to get out of this by using my head.

I needed to think through the clues and observations I’d made since arriving here. I had to know my enemy’s capabilities as I planned my escape.

I got a legal pad and pen, then sat at the table. I wrote down what I’d seen, heard, and inferred about the werewolves and their Pack. I filled two pages, then reviewed it and let out a sigh.

I was kidding myself if I thought escape would be simple. The werewolves could see through near-darkness, move silently, and easily track my scent. When they caught up to me, they had the advantages in size, strength, speed, and fighting ability. What chance did I have when trained Marines got killed without firing a shot?

I tore off the pages and hid them behind the desk.

All this, and it was only three-twenty. The Alpha was supposed to be back late, so I had hours to kill. The room had no books, games, or other things to do.

I might not be able to fight back, but I could mess with his head. I went into the bathroom and moved everything around in the medicine cabinet. I did the same with his desk. I opened a dresser drawer, thinking I’d move his clothes around, then changed my mind when I looked closer at the drawers. They were solid wood, with a groove on the side that fit runners on the case. I took out one of the empty drawers, flipped it over, then put it back in.

It worked, and I grinned as I put my plan into motion. I started by pulling out all the drawers and stacking them on the bed. Then I lifted the mirror off the back and rolled the case until it was upside down. Putting the drawers back in, I held them in place as I carefully rotated the dresser upright. Once the mirror and pictures were back, you couldn’t tell I’d messed with it.

What else could I do?

Plenty. There was a can of Barbasol shaving cream and dental floss in the medicine cabinet. Duct tape and a thumbtack came from the desk. I pushed the clothing aside and duct-taped the can near the top shelf. I tied a length of floss to a thumbtack, then pushed it into the side of the can. Using another strip of tape, I almost closed it completely before fixing the other end of the floss to the back of the wooden door.

It was a crude tripwire booby trap, but it was effective. Once the thumbtack popped out, the can would shoot shaving cream out twenty feet and continue for ten seconds. I didn’t have time to do a “White Christmas,” where you hung the can from the ceiling. I did this to an upperclassman once as a prank. It coated everything in the room with a thin layer of foam.

His first reaction would be to close the door again and limit the damage. I prevented this by removing the hinge pins from the door.

I cleaned up the evidence as I tried to think of more gags. I was staring at the bed when there was a knock on the door.

Why would they knock? I was a prisoner here. What was I going to do, tell them no? “Just a minute,” I replied.

I double-checked the room as I walked to the door. Keeping my left hand on the knife in my pocket, I opened it.

“Hi, I’m Melanie,” the beautiful brunette said with a big smile.

“Your boyfriend’s not here,” I replied. “Don’t worry about me taking him. I don’t want him.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” she said as she pushed past me into the room.