Chapter 2

The screech of rusting metal hinges echoed through the warehouse as Duard pulled a lever. The gates of the enclosures swung open.

For a moment, the dogs hesitated. Then one, a massive brindle with scarred ears, took a step forward and let out a low growl. The others followed. They fanned out, creating a half-circle, closing me in.

I scrambled backward on my hands and feet, my back hitting the cold concrete wall. There was nowhere else to go. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of pure terror.

On the catwalk, Duard was laughing. He held the phone steady, making sure his audience didn't miss a single second of my fear.

Jesse just watched, her expression unreadable. She wasn't smiling, but there was no pity in her eyes either. It was like she was watching a movie, detached from the life-or-death struggle happening below her.

The brindle pit bull lunged.

I twisted my body, a pure instinct for survival. Its teeth sank into the meat of my thigh instead of my throat. The pain was white-hot, electric. I screamed, a raw, guttural sound. The dog shook its head, tearing at the muscle.

That pain snapped me out of my fear. It was replaced by a cold, desperate clarity. I was going to die here if I didn't fight back. This wasn't a nightmare I could wake up from. This was a fight.

With my good leg, I kicked out, striking the dog hard in the side of its head. It yelped and released its grip, stumbling back a few feet. Blood poured from the wound in my leg, staining my pants a dark, wet red.

My eyes darted around the floor, searching for anything. A few feet away, a length of rusted rebar lay half-hidden in the dust.

I lunged for it, ignoring the fire in my leg. My fingers closed around the cold, rough metal. The other dogs were closing in now, emboldened by the scent of blood.

As another dog leaped, I swung the rebar with all my strength. The impact was sickening, a wet crunch. The dog went down in a heap and didn't get back up.

I had just killed a dog. A week ago, I was a hero for saving an animal. Now I was a killer.

The remaining dogs stopped. They looked at their fallen pack mate, then back at me. They were still hungry, but now there was caution in their eyes. A bit of fear.

I got to my feet, swaying, using the rebar to keep my balance. My leg was screaming in protest. I planted my feet, held the rebar like a club, and stared them down. My breath came in ragged gasps.

On the livestream, the comments exploded. 'He just killed that dog!' 'He's a monster!' 'I can't believe I ever thought he was a hero.'

Duard fueled the fire. "You see? You all see his true colors? He's a violent, vicious man!"

The irony was so thick I could taste it, metallic and bitter like the blood in my mouth. They were judging me for trying to survive the death trap they had set. My 'loving' persona was being torn apart by the very people who were trying to have me torn apart.

I didn't care what they thought. Not anymore. The court of public opinion meant nothing when you were fighting for your next breath.

"It's not too late, Kai!" Jesse's voice cut through the snarling of the dogs. "Apologize! Beg Duard for forgiveness! I can still stop this!"

Her voice was strained. Maybe the sight of actual blood was more than she had bargained for.

I spat a mouthful of blood and dust onto the concrete floor.

"Never."

Her face contorted with a strange mix of anger and confusion. "Why are you so stubborn? You're supposed to be an animal lover! A dog lover! Look at what you're doing!"

The hypocrisy was breathtaking.

"Is this what you wanted, Jesse?" I yelled back, my voice hoarse. "Is this your idea of love? Watching your husband get ripped to shreds?"

Before she could answer, Duard did something. He reached into a bag and tossed something down into the pit. Chunks of raw, bloody meat. They landed near my feet.

The dogs went insane. The brief moment of hesitation was gone, replaced by a fresh wave of frenzied hunger. They weren't just hungry for me anymore. They were fighting for the scraps Duard had thrown them, and I was right in the middle of it.

The circle tightened again, and they came at me, not one by one, but as a pack.