Mr. & Mrs. Norcross - Page 6

In the gloom, a set of doubles door appeared in the back of the warehouse. As she approached, the barking of dogs got louder.

She turned the handle an inch and peered inside.

The first thing she saw was the pit.

Her belly clenched hard.

It was about twenty feet by twenty feet, and surrounded by ply-wood walls. Around the pit was crude tiered seating. She could imagine the spectators sitting there, egging the dogs on. There was an old, blood-stained carpet lining the bottom of the pit and her lip curled. She’d read the carpet was to give the dogs more traction.

She turned away, sickened by it all. On the other side of the pit was another set of double doors, where the sound of barking was coming from. It had to be a way out.

Brynn crept quietly around the fighting pit and wished she had her weapon. She dragged in a deep breath and pushed the doors open.

Her chest tightened. The space beyond was lined with cages. As she made her way through the space, dogs rammed the wire, barking wildly. She saw pit bulls, German shepherds and Rottweilers. All aggressive and mean.

The poor things. She saw most were covered in scars, had their ears chewed off and eyes missing. These animals hadn’t been born mean. They’d been bred and tortured to be like this.

She kept going, her gaze on the door at the end.

She needed to get out and find a way to contact Vander.

A noise made her spin.

A dog trotted out of the shadows, heading straight for her. She tensed.

Its tail was wagging, and it sniffed her boots.

Brynn relaxed and held out her palm. “Hey, there.”

It looked like a Belgian Malinois, probably five or six months old. It had a black face and ears, while the fur on its lean body was tan. A quick look told her it was a male.

“You’re just a puppy.” She rubbed between its ears. “Where did you come from?”

A yipping sound made her look over. A small crate of puppies sat near the door. The mesh on it was damaged, and she guessed her friend had forced his way out.

“Hello.” Several other half-grown puppies came to the side of the crate, tails wagging. “God.” She realized these puppies were ones that were too friendly for the breeders to use as fighters. There were also a couple of tiny chihuahuas in the crate as well, huddled together and shivering.

Her blood went cold.

Bait. These animals would be used as bait and warm up for the fighting dogs.

The Belgian Malinois rubbed against her leg and whined.

“You’re trying to help your friends.” Brynn nodded. “All right. We’re all getting out of here.”

She unbolted the crate and the older puppies raced out. The two chihuahuas stayed huddled together.

“Come on,” she urged. “We have to go.”

The dogs didn’t budge.

Vander would kill her for risking her life for some dogs, especially tiny ones, but she couldn’t leave them. She dropped down and grabbed the chihuahuas.

“I’ve got you.” She stood. “Let’s move.”

The barking from the caged dogs reached deafening levels. She got to the door and shoved it open.

The puppies bolted out, except for her new friend.