Charlie
The longer I lie on the concrete floor, the colder I get. Not much I can do about it. Please, please, little baby. Please be okay. Mommy’s gonna figure this out.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t cry. I need the moisture. I remember what Lance said. Shifter babies are strong, right? I can be strong for my baby.
But I jerk when the door creaks open and a little light pours in. My heart strangles itself in my chest.
“She’s awake,” the guy says to someone. He crouches next to me. He’s left the ski mask off this time. He’s a white guy with a dirty beard and bland features. He reaches for me and I flinch. Not like I can get up and run away. But he cuffs one wrist to a ring set in the cement floor and then slices off the ropes. I scuttle back as fast as I can—not very fast—and lean aga
