This was recent. Siberian had done this in the time it took Bitch to get here.
Damn, she’s quick.
That much was to be expected given her tiger theme, really, but still.
More blood, one of the boys, a dog groomer with years of experience, lying beside the kitchen counter, his shirt wadded up and pressed to his face.
At least she seems to have left everyone alive, though injured.
Around the shirt, she could see the four parallel tracks where Siberian’s fingernails had left gouges running across his face.
Ouch.
None of the dogs were hurt. She had to double-check them to see. Most were cowering in the corners. Some had retreated up the stairs.
Yeah, no surprise there. Siberian seemed to genuinely like the dogs, and with this being framed as a present, it wouldn’t make as much sense for her to hurt the ones even she can tell Bitch actually cares about.
The blood had a pattern to it, as though Siberian had painted a picture with the spray. A line drawing from each of the injured to the center of the room, where a box sat, faintly dusted with flecks of blood.
…oh, huh.
She was nervous as she opened it, but she couldn’t not.
AND THAT’S WHERE I’LL END TONIGHT’S– no, I’m kidding
Let’s see what we have here.
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