“No! Don’t move,” she warned.
The beast increased his growling and snarling the moment she grabbed me, prompting Alessandra to swear and release my wrist.
“Don’t make any sudden movement,” she cautioned, speaking slowly and clearly, her voice never rising above a whisper as she began to sidestep away from me.
“And no matter what, do … not … run,” she stressed. “When he comes at you, don’t panic, okay? Please,
please,
listen to me, Milena?” she appealed. “Alex won’t hurt you; just let him scent you.”
She didn’t want me to run from him?
Wouldn’t hurt me?
He’d just announced to the whole fucking room I was dead meat next!
Not only had he freely claimed credit for the murder of the only family member I had left, but I’d just witnessed him crush a man’s throat with his bare hand after heartlessly denying Felix’s dying request to spare his son’s life.
What’s more, now that the room had cleared, I noted that Felix’s compadres seemed to have suffered even worse fates, as their bodies lay lifeless on the marble floor, their chests torn open and their un-beating, bloody hearts strewn thoughtlessly beside them.
And now, when Alex was snarling at me in his true monster nature form—that of a vicious, oversized, supernatural killer dog—Alessandra expected I wouldn’t run? If she thought I was going to stick around and let some cross between
Cujo
and
Hannibal Lecter
get close enough to sniff and lick my hand, she was out of her goddamned mind.
I didn’t run. I pivoted on my heel and
flew!