Page 4 of Vetted for Vengeance
Gravel crunches softly beneath my tires as I pull the Metro off the road and into the shadow beside the hedgerow. I switch off the engine and sit for a moment in the sudden quiet. The itch builds slowly, rising from my spine to the base of my neck.
Even from here I can smell the place. A sour mix of damp straw, disinfectant, and a wet dog.
The kennel block sits low against the ground, a long metal structure with narrow windows glowing yellow through the darkness. Somewhere inside, a dog shifts, and a single bark echoes briefly before falling silent again.
They’ve trained them well.
Too well.
The place is silent. Dogs aren’t allowed to bark here for long.
The kennel block is lit. A single light burns in the house where the owners live.
Well, it seemed my two targets were currently apart, a blessing for me. I chose the house first; the single light made their location easier to predict, and if they were expecting the second owner to return at some point, it meant the door would be unlocked.
I am an expert at this. I know more about Frank and Derek Hardwood than they know about each other.
They are lazy, self-centered and greedy. They cut corners on everything, including security.
The front door of the farmhouse opens with the barest creak. I’m inside within three minutes.
Derek is in the kitchen, with his back to the slightly open door separating us. Even with his back turned, I don’t take chances. He’s facing the window, and if he glances up…
The itch grows between my shoulder blades, restless and impatient.
Finally, the moment arrives. Derek steps forward to rinse something in the sink, his shoulders turning away from the door.
I move with quiet steps. I barely breathe.
My hand closes over his mouth before he can inhale properly. The syringe slides into his neck with the same smooth motion I use on a nervous dog.
His body jerks once in shock.
For four seconds, we watch ourselves in the reflection of the kitchen window. His eyes are wide. Mine are calm.
Then the drug reaches his bloodstream.
His body slumps, and I lower with him, letting him slip to the floor. Duct tape around his wrists, ankles, and mouth finishes the job.
Unconscious bodies are heavy, but I’m used to moving dead weight.
I have little to do with the large animal side of the veterinary practice, but I do my bit during calving season, and that's all the excuse I need to keep in shape.
Derek takes up most of the trunk space in my tiny hatchback. I rarely do double abductions, but I'll make a special arrangement for puppy farming. The compact car may necessitate these brothers getting uncomfortably close; the cops won’t look twice at any CCTV I appear on.
Chapter four
Noah
I'm finally done for the night, and need to head to the house for an early night. Honey won't need me tonight, but it won't be long. As I flick off the hall light, I notice a hint of movement outside. It’s probably just the trees. The yard lights throw long shadows across the gravel, and the wind pushes the hedgerow back and forth all night.
I stand still, letting my eyes adjust. The cold seeps through the thin soles of my shoes, grounding me to the concrete. The smell of disinfectant clings to the back of my throat, sharp and familiar. Normal. Everything feels normal.
The kennel block always feels different once the lights go out. The rhythm of the place changes. Daytime noise becomes something softer. More restless. Like the building is holding its breath. The dogs settle into restless sleep, claws scratching occasionally against concrete. Somewhere in the distance a pup squeaks in its sleep before going quiet again.
Then the shape moves again. I blink hard, once, twice, willing my eyes to settle. It could still be nothing. A trick of light. A shadow shifting where it shouldn’t.
Not wind.
