She sat and listened to the hour-long lecture, trying not to fall asleep to the boring topic her professor had chosen to teach today.
“All right, students, you are free to go,” the professor said when he finished. She grabbed her books and headed out the doors to her dorm room.
She hurried to her room, it was still early, and she was excited to start her favorite part of the day. She had a new abandoned place she wanted to photograph, the old slaughterhouse. She loved getting lost in old buildings and their architecture. It fueled her imagination for new projects.
Her shiny pink photography bag sat in the corner at the foot of her twin-sized bed, right where she left it. She had all different sizes of lenses inside, keeping her prepared for anything she encountered.
Augusta soaked in the landscape as she drove to the edge of town, enjoying how spaced out the houses were farther away from campus. It was turning into late autumn, so the trees were leafless, and that was the best time to photograph, in her opinion.
She got out with her bag thrown over her shoulder and noticed a small area of the fence that had fallen down. She decided that would be the perfect place to get in, so she scaled the old rusty fence and the short retaining wall next to it.
Once she was back on the ground, she unzipped her bag and grabbed her camera. She looked around, trying to find the perfect place to start, the one magical piece that would spark her imagination.
She spotted it. The old fallen bricks sparked a light in her eyes that fueled her whole session. She lost herself in the photographs she was taking, blocking out the rest of the world. The noise, the stress, school. It all faded away.
Until a sharp scream pierced the air.
It jerked her back to reality, and she froze, listening for another sound to indicate she wasn’t alone. She looked around trying not to make a sound so if the screams started again, she could locate the person who needed help.
She walked down a long, dark stretch of a hallway and into one of the rooms she thought she could pinpoint as the source of the scream. She grabbed the door frame, paused, and took a deep breath. The fear of not knowing what she would find on the other side of it made her heart race in her chest, her stomach felt like she might be sick but what really kept her from moving was the lump in her throat that felt as big as Mount Everest.
As her eyes came into focus, she saw it. The source of the horrible cries was a small man lying helpless in a pile on the floor. Two much larger men in ski masks towered over him, holding what looked like crowbars in their hands.
They had clearly beaten him, but she was worried they may have done much worse as he was no longer crying out in pain. She watched as he lay there, eerily still. Blood was pooling around his body from the lacerations he endured from the crowbars. She could see bruises in the shape of boot prints on his face. She was scared stiff, too terrified to move.
Out of nowhere, a loud crash echoed in the room. What was that?
Looking down at the floor, she realized that the noise had been her camera slamming onto the concrete. On impact, the shutter button had been pressed, and the flash went off, alerting the men to her presence.
She bent down and quickly picked it up, sliding it back into her bag. As soon as she looked up, they were both staring at her. Her hands shook even more, making it difficult to put the camera in her bag. She had to get out of there and she wasn’t leaving her equipment behind.
Without thinking, she turned and ran, sprinting back the way she had come in, and headed for the fence.
Their feet pounded behind her, though she could barely hear it over her hammering heart. Her blood thrummed louder as their footsteps grew closer.
One set of footsteps sounded different, though. They seemed lighter than the others, not making the loud boot stomps. This made her curious, and when she turned her head to see why, she noticed one of them had shifted. He’d shifted. A shifter.
Where the other man had once been, a wolf stood in his place, his long stride quickly shortening the distance between them.
She sprinted harder at the sight of him, pushing herself until the sun glared in her eyes. She had finally made it outside. She leaped for the chain link squares of the fence, the wolf on her heels.
Chapter2
Augusta
Augusta’s ripped jeans snagged the fence as she scuttled over the top. Her hands and feet hit the ground, catching her as she landed. She sprang up from all fours and ran to her car. Luckily, she had left it unlocked, and the keys were still in the ignition.
She tried to get her fumbling fingers to lock the doors. She watched for a brief moment as the wolf fought his way through the fence. He hadn’t been as graceful as she had when crossing it. His fur was caught on a section of the broken wire. She gasped at the sight, finally her brain convinced her that he truly was a shifter. She’d heard about them but never thought for a minute any of that was true.
The car roared to life as she turned the key. Her pedal went all the way to the floor as she watched the slaughterhouse grow smaller and smaller in her rearview. Her knuckles were white from how hard she was griping the steering wheel. She had to find help but who would believe she was witness to a murder and chased by a shifter?
She drove straight to the police station. Flying into the nearest parking space, she shut the car off. She raced in through the front doors and frantically went up to the front desk.
“Hi. Hi.” She struggled to regain her breath and wits. “My name is Augusta, and I need help,” she said, flustered.
“Okay, miss, what’s going on? Are you all right?” the desk clerk asked.
“I need to speak to an officer right now.” Her voice shook.