EXTRACT FOR
Lost Little Cat
(Arian Wulf)

A few of the men let out a stream of curses. "Those aren't prosthetics," someone says finally.



"Sure they are. They've got to be," the man in front of her reaches forward to grab her ear and yank at it.



She hisses and slashes at the man with her claws and regrets it instantly as he doesn't pull away in time and she feels the flesh on his arm tear as her sharp claws dig into skin. He swears and slaps her across the face hard enough for her ears to ring.



"Bitch fucking scratched me!" he says, raising his hand to strike her again when the bigger man, the one who seems to be in charge, stills him with just a look.



"If you do that again, you will find yourself missing a hand," he says.



She's released so quickly that she crumbles right back onto the dirty floor, cement dust getting in her nose.



"I only ask that you tell me the truth, kitten," the man says, squatting down and capturing her chin between his forefinger and thumb, tipping her head up to look him in the eye. "What's your name?"