Wolf for Hire

Chapter Twenty Three

Just because I was now a mental abstraction didn't mean I was without a sense of smug satisfaction. I didn't need a face to gloat. If anything, the lack of a real face, a physical form, meant I could relay my sense of triumph in a pure and unadulterated form.

The wolf didn't answer. Just exhaled sharply. Frustrated, but not deterred.

She was thinking.

Actually thinking.

Trying to problem-solve.

Like a human.

Like me.

And honestly? It was a little funny watching her fumble through the process.

Because she wasn't particularly good at it.

It was like watching a toddler try to open a child-safety lid. They understood that lids were meant to turn and just kept turning it—over and over—without grasping the fundamental trick of the mechanism.

The wolf couldn't think beyond the obstacle in front of her. Her focus was singular, unwavering.

The door.

It loomed in her mind, singular and absolute, the way a hunting instinct sometimes locked into place, overriding everything else. Occasionally, her attention wavered—fleeting thoughts of food drifted in—but whether she hunted or scavenged, the problem remained:

The door was closed.

It needed to be open.

That was the problem. Nothing else existed until it was solved.

It was almost funny. Ironic, even. She was so fixated on brute force, on overcoming the most obvious barrier, that she couldn't even begin to think beyond it.

Couldn't think outside the barn—so to speak

It was if the concept of not going directly through the door simply didn't exist.

You poor dumb dog.

A bit hypocritical of me, I suppose, considering I was just as guilty of that kind of tunnel vision. But hers was so… painfully obvious.

She hesitated, then turned her thoughts toward me again.

Sorry, pup, I thought, amused. You've got a long way to go if you want to outsmart me.

She ignored the jab. Her thoughts snapped back to the door—but not this door.

The back door to Sandy's house. The one I'd helped her open.

She circled the problem again, but something had shifted. She wasn't just thinking about the door—she was thinking about me. That I knew more than she did. That I'd know how to escape.

But how?

The thought pressed against mine, inquiring.

That'll be Grand Escape for 500, Alex.

She pushed harder.

How?

Sure, I had an answer. But I wasn't about to just give it to her. Wasn't about to hand over the keys to her release. No, she was going to sit here all night while I lorded my intelligence over her.

Except.

I still didn't know how to hide my thoughts from her.

All she had to do was ask the question, and my brain started working on the solution.

I knew how to open the door.

I'd just get someone to do it for me.

A pause. Then, another question.

Who?

Well, Coy could do it, but knowing him, he wouldn't come back until morning.

The wolf didn't like this answer. She wanted more. Knew I had more to give.

Frustration simmered in my chest. I had her where I wanted her. I'd outsmarted her. Put her in a position where it was her wits against mine—a game she had no hope of winning.

So instead, she flipped the script. This wasn't Jeopardy anymore. This was Who Wants to be a Millionaire, and she'd just called on her life-line: me.

Who? she asked again.

And again, the answer surfaced in my mind.

JT, I thought.

Why?

Because he will be home soon. He could open the door.

How?

I frowned.

By tricking him.

The wolf pressed in closer.

How?

I scowled. I don't know.

She wasn't satisfied.

How?

I growled. Figure it out yourself, you dumb mutt.

I was angry—angry at myself. What was the point of outsmarting the wolf if I was just going to hand over all the answers? I needed to learn how to keep my thoughts to myself. From myself.

The wolf went quiet, thinking. Planning. I could feel her mind working—deliberate, methodical, fitting pieces together like a puzzle she'd never known existed.

And then—just faintly—I felt something else.

Amusement. Satisfaction.

She was learning. And she was enjoying it.

Her thoughts circled back to the door—insight alone wasn't enough to break her fixation.

But now, a new line of thought emerged. An idea.

And, as I feared, the pieces I'd given her started clicking into place.

Her focus turned towards me, on my memories.

She sifted through them, searching for something specific. From my perspective, it was like watching someone flick through old photo albums at high speed—except I was the photo album. The wolf didn't know what she was looking for, only that it had to do with JT.

I tried to stop her. Pushed back. But I had about as much luck blocking her out as I did stopping Sandy's dogs from licking my face. It was like trying to push away water.

Desperate, I latched onto the command words from Sandy's book.

Stop! I ordered.

No! She replied.

I reeled.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? No? Could she do that? Deny a command as easily as an obstinate child?

The wolf honed in on my memories of JT, starting with our first encounter yesterday. She skimmed through them all—start to finish—then started over, searching for a way to trick him. To manipulate him.

Each time, she lingered on certain moments: the way I felt looking at him, listening to his playful banter, the heat curling in my stomach when he stretched and his shirt rode up just enough—

Stop being a perv, I snapped at her.

God, this was worse than the time my stepsister Sarah found my diary and read it to her friends. These were my thoughts, meant for my entertainment.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

A girl had a right to imagine the impossible without judgment.

The wolf's amusement curled back at me—a smug, wordless impression. Just as I'd pressed her buttons, now she pressed mine. She was having a little fun at my expense.

This went on for what felt like an hour, but was probably only a half dozen minutes or so—time moved differently in my head.

Had I a face, it would have been beet-red.

Eventually, she stopped.

She'd found what she needed.

The phone call.

JT had said he'd be home soon. That he wanted to talk.

And that…

That gave her an idea.

More accurately, it had been my idea. The wolf just finally understood it.

I felt it before she acted on it—a revelation sparking in the back of her mind. A jolt of realization.

A simply epiphany.

And she didn't have to ask me if it would work. My sudden fear told her everything.

Satisfaction rose withing her and she returned that same mental smirk right back at me. The wolf had outfoxed me, and she knew it.

She picked up my purse in her teeth, carried it to the door, and set it down.

Then she slunk into the shadows, curling into a dark corner. Waiting. Listening.

I scrambled for a counter-strategy—anything to stop what I knew was going to happen. But my mind was drawing blanks.

The wolf's plan was simple. So simple there was no room for me to poke holes.

And worse—most of the work had already been done. By me.

Once again, I was the architect of my own downfall.

Time crawled, stretching into slow, agonizing increments.

Then—gravel crunched.

We listened to JT's truck rumble up the driveway, then the engine cutting off. A car door slammed. Footsteps scuffed against the gravel, disappearing as they reached the paved walkway. A pause. The jingle of keys. The front door creaked open, then clicked shut.

JT was home and in the house.

And soon, he'd come looking for me.

Enough time had elapsed for Maggie to make it home. And, per my instructions, she would have been waiting on the porch—waiting for Coy and getting JT instead. That pause? That was surely JT greeting her, probably wondering why the hell she was waiting outside.

And, if Maggie was here, he'd assume I was too.

He'd said he needed to talk to me, after all.

So when he didn't find me inside...

The back door opened.

"AJ?"

JT called out to me. It was just as I had anticipated.

And what the wolf had been waiting for.

The wolf howled.

It was brief, sharp—but perfectly timed with JT's shout, such that he wouldn't have heard it properly. Wouldn't have known it for what it was.

Not that it was meant for him.

The call carried something deeper, a thread of compulsion woven into the sound, a summons meant for more sensitive ears.

Come.

Barking erupted inside.

A chorus of answering cries as the dogs exploded from the house.

JT cursed aloud, startled by the sudden rush of fur and tails, claws clicking on the porch as they surged into the yard, towards the barn. Soon, the sound of paws scrabbling just outside the door, occupied by enthusiastic yipping and whining.

They'd heard her.

And they'd come.

The wolf fell silent, listening. Feeling.

The dogs' thoughts poured in now that they were in closer proximity—bursts of raw emotion: excitement, loyalty, the thrill of answering a call from their leader. And with their thoughts came scent, sight, sound.

Through them, the wolf saw everything that lay beyond the door.

Noses pressed to the wood. Tails wagging, bodies vibrating with anticipation. Clawed paws scraping at the door.

Pack. Hunt. Walk?

JT was moving now, calling after them, his voice tight with confusion.

He was heading for the barn.

I hurled thoughts at the dogs—Don't listen to her! Get away! The walk is a lie!—but I was drowned out by the cacophony of their minds, lost beneath the excited frenzy.

I tried again, shifting my focus, reaching out one by one.

I found Emma, Annie, Rosie—beckoned them to leave. In turn, the wolf urged them to stay.

Puddy, the black lab, couldn't hold himself still, his mind a blur of energy, his paw scratching the barn as he jumped on the walls. It was impossible to reason with.

I found Rudy's mind and reached for him—then withdrew just as quickly. His thoughts had been a little too... sticky.

But, I suppose, in his defense, the wolf's command had been a bit of an innuendo.

Murray was among the crowd, the old retriever too weary to get worked like the others, but happy to be part of the excitement nonetheless. I latched onto his mind, hoping he'd listen.

Murray, go to JT. Stop him from approaching.

The wolf cut in. No. Bring him here.

Murray, his mind already muddled with age, stood frozen between the two contradictory commands before slowly turning in circles, tail wagging, delighted at the attention.

I'd apparently overestimated him—assumed he was sharper, like Maggie. But he was even older than she was, and lacked her mental acuity.

But, speaking of Maggie—

She wasn't here.

Neither was Coy. Though that didn't surprise me. I'd given him until morning to return home. And, no doubt he'd make full use of it.

But Maggie...

Where was she?

I sifted through the dogs' thoughts, the same way the wolf did, searching for her. The wolf tracked my efforts with wary curiosity. And, perhaps, a bit of apprehension.

It didn't take me long to find her.

Maggie was with JT, trotting by his side.

And that gave me an idea.

Maggie had resisted the wolf's call. She had stayed with JT instead.

So maybe—just maybe—she would listen to me, and ignore the wolf.

Worth a shot.

I reached for her. Maggie—stop JT. He can't get any closer.

The wolf tensed. I felt her unease.

Just as she had known she was onto something when I felt fear, now I knew I was onto something because she felt the same.

She'd known Maggie wouldn't listen to her. Maggie was loyal to JT and Sandy, not her. She'd discovered this the night before. And while the wolf could rely on her strength to keep Maggie in line, she still couldn't control her.

A low growl rumbled in the distance. JT shouted.

Through the eyes of the pack, I saw it unfold—

Maggie, who'd been at JT's side, had suddenly turned, and bit down on the back of his shoe—more of a work-boot really. She then proceeded to yank his foot out from under him.

He stumbled, just barely catching himself.

She pulled again, harder, and JT lost his footing. Hitting the ground. When he tried to rise, she dragged him off-center, keeping him down.

I had expected her to block his way. Pull on his clothes and whine a little.

But this?

This wasn't your standard service dog behavior.

This was something else.

And the pieces began clicking into place.

Maggie might not have been magical like the others, but she wasn't normal either—I'd already picked up on that much. And considering Sandy and JT's family connections—to judges and state prosecutors—it stood to reason they may have ties to others in law enforcement.

Maggie hadn't just been a service dog.

She'd been a police dog.

Her honed sense of smell, her stoic demeanor, the clear apprehension technique she was using to immobilize JT—it all made sense.

Damn, I thought. It was good to have her on my side.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, I believed my plan might actually work.

Then—

JT's voice cut through the night, sharp and firm. "Heel!"

And Maggie obeyed.

Every dog obeyed.

The barking stopped in an instant. The pack settled. And Maggie—Maggie dropped like a stone. The command hit her harder than the rest as she was clearly the target.

Through the eyes of the other dogs, I could see her on the ground, panting hard. She had been giving it everything she had, and now, with a single word, it was undone.

The power of the command had even reverberated through the wolf—deep-rooted, instinctual. The wolf, despite not being an intended target, was not unaffected. I felt it seize her, our whole body trembling—if only for a moment.

The wolf was silent, but I could hear the alarms blaring in her mind.

This was new to her. To the both of us.

But, of course, it made sense.

JT was Sandy's brother. Why wouldn't he be able to use her command words? Or use them so effectively?

JT pushed himself up, brushing dirt from his scrubs—he must have come straight from work—and knelt beside Maggie, running a hand over her head. "What's gotten into you, girl?"

Maggie whimpered, tongue lolling as she panted. She was exhausted. Dragging a grown man to the ground had taken its toll. That, on top of all the running I'd put her through—the old girl just wasn't cut out for this kind of work anymore.

Guilt welled up inside me, and I found myself relieved that JT had stopped her when he had.

Hopefully, Maggie had done enough.

JT stood, looking at her. Then at the barn. Then back at Maggie.

"Were you trying to stop me?"

Maggie whined.

A surge of relief crashed over me—he wasn't coming. He was listening. He wasn't coming.

But—

He can't communicate with the dogs. Not like us.

I stiffened.

The thought wasn't mine.

I turned inward. The wolf was watching me, studying me. The thought had been hers, and she was waiting to see what I would do with it.

I tried not to think about it. But I did.

JT had only spoken the command aloud. But he hadn't projected his thoughts—not like the wolf and I could. If he could hear the dogs, if he could sense them the way we did, he wouldn't need to ask Maggie any questions.

He'd just need to listen.

And he would know.

If the wolf was right—and evidence suggested she was—JT would know something was up. But he wouldn't know what.

And the wolf and I both knew exactly what he'd do next.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen.

My phone rang.

A muffled Robert Palmer crooned from inside my purse, the sound distant but unmistakable. The yard had gone silent after JT's command. No barking. No movement. Just the faint song coming from within the barn.

A hot summer night fell like a net
I've gotta find my baby yet.

Nine heads turned toward the sound—seven dogs, one human, and one wolf.

I technically didn't have a head to turn.

JT lowered his phone from his ear and started toward the barn.

That had been the wolf's plan: to maneuver JT into range, knowing he'd hear my phone once he tried to call me. She knew it would work because it was exactly what I would have done if our roles were reversed.

And whatever I thought of, she knew.

She hadn't outsmarted me. She'd cheated.

I screamed into the void of my own mind, reaching for Maggie, for the dogs, for JT. But the dogs couldn't move—his command still held them.

And JT? He couldn't hear me at all.

But there was another problem.

One that the wolf recognized as well as I did.

JT's command words held power. More than mine. The power to stop the wolf with a single word—if directed at her.

If, that is, he had the chance to say it.

The simplest way to prevent that?

She didn't need me for that answer. She had a method already in mind. A sort of tried and true approach.

One involving an excessive use of teeth.

She would escape—on that, there was no negotiation. And if stopping JT required silencing him permanently, so be it.

She had no stake in his survival. Only I did.

I needed him, because I needed Sandy. She could help me learn to control the wolf.

But, to the wolf, such control was already an unacceptable concept.

Just as unacceptable as the dogs obeying someone else over her.

She did not like to share. She did not like to bow.

Not for anyone.

But…

She had liked the food.

And despite having little grasp on human society, money, or the consequences of killing someone, she could understand that harming JT would reduce the likelihood of eating more Purina.

So, she'd be willing to spare him.

For dog food.

One way or another, she was getting out. But if there was a less lethal means of escape...

She mentally prodded me.

I could take the hint.

She wanted me to come up with another plan.

I could only hope and pray JT would wise up and not open the door. That he'd take the hint that Maggie had tried to convey.

Otherwise...

This bitch was about to make me culpable for assault.

But, alas, it was Sunday—God's day of rest. So the big man in the sky wasn't taking calls.

"AJ?" JT called, testing the handle.

Okay, fine, I conceded with the wolf. But we're doing it my way.

I moved to the forefront of our mind, seizing the wheel, taking control

The wolf didn't resist. But she didn't let go either. Not entirely. She moved to the passenger seat, still aware and ready to intervene.

It wasn't distrust—because how could there be distrust between two minds that always knew what the other was thinking?

No, she understood that I wouldn't hesitate to defy her. Just as I understood that if I did, she wouldn't hesitate to hurt JT.

A system of assurances.

A hostage negotiation—though JT wasn't aware that he was the hostage.

Just a curious cat about to get his ass kicked.

The door creaked open. JT reached for the light switch. Incandescent light flooded the barn, illuminating scattered straw, the lofts, the shutters—his gaze settling on the bag on the floor, my phone still ringing inside it.

Exactly as we intended. All part of the goddamn plan.

So he never saw us coming.

We being a giant black wolf, crouched and ready to lunge.

By the time he saw us, we were already upon him.