York had long since lost track of how far they’d marched.
When they finally pushed through the last thicket of brush, the world opened up before him, a sheer cliff face dropping into darkness, and perched at its edge, a helicopter, rotors still and waiting.
Mr.
Lindville exhaled, a long, ragged sound that seemed to age him ten years on the spot.
He trudged forward, shoulders slumped.
“Come on, then.
Time to find myself a quiet corner to rot in.” York stared at the scene, and the words clawed their way out before he could stop them.
“And what about me?” He wasn’t about to go spend his golden years sipping tea with the old man, was he?
Mr.
Lindville cut him a cold, sidelong look.
“Originally, I figured you’d make decent cannon fodder if we ran into trouble.
But now?” A dismissive snort.
“You’re about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.” York: “???” In the two days and one night he’d survived in Zootopia, York had learned one lesson above all others, he was still tragically, embarrassingly naive.
How many times had he been played for a fool now?
He’d lost count, this was somewhere around the third betrayal.
His face went dark.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means,” Finn said, reaching into his coat and producing a pistol, its black muzzle yawning toward York’s chest, “that you’ve outlived your usefulness.” Mr.
Lindville sneered.
“A gutter rat should know its place.
You actually thought you’d share cabin space with me?
How delusional you mutt.” York stared at the gun barrel inches from his face, the insults still ringing in his ears, and something inside him finally snapped.
He’d been trying to keep his head down.
Play nice.
Avoid trouble.
But he wasn’t made of clay, and he’d had enough.
He dropped low, exploded forward, and closed the distance before Finn could even blink.
Finn’s eyes went wide with shock.
His finger tightened on the trigger.
‘Too slow.’ York seized his gun-hand, wrenched it skyward, and the shot fired harmlessly into the night.
Then he drove his knee into Finn’s gut with brutal precision.
CRACK The leopard folded like a cheap lawn chair, all the air driven from his lungs in a single wheeze.
He had no chance to recover.
York’s speed and strength were terrifying.
York didn’t let up.
He wound up his left arm and brought it across Finn’s face like a sledgehammer.
WHAM!
Finn’s eyes spun into cartoon spirals.
He wobbled on his feet, pirouetted a full three-sixty, and collapsed in a heap.
York ripped the pistol from his limp hand and spat on the ground beside him.
“Pfft.
Been holding that in way too long.” His bloodshot gaze slowly swiveled to Lindville, who stood frozen between fury and terror.
“Real shame,” York said, his voice low and cold.
“I actually thought you were one of the decent ones.” Mr.
Lindville backpedaled, nearly tripping over his own feet.
“No, wait, I wasn’t thinking!
I take it back!
I apologize!” York kept coming.
Lindville scrambled backward, his bad leg buckling, and he crashed onto his rear end.
Funny thing about the wealthy, the more they had, the more desperate they became when it slipped away.
He thrust out a trembling hand.
“I’ll give you five million!
No, ten!
Just name your price!
Please!” York stopped.
Not because the offer moved him, he wasn’t born yesterday.
Empty promises were worthless without cold, hard cash in his palm.
But Lindville had just stumbled into striking distance.
“Using me as a decoy, were you?
WERE YOU?!” WHACK!, the slap sent Lindville’s head snapping to the side, ears ringing like church bells, vision swimming.
“Gutter rat, am I?!” WHACK!, a gold tooth went sailing into the moonlight.
“I don’t deserve to share your cabin, right?!” WHACK!, Lindville’s eyes rolled back, and he crumpled like a sack of potatoes, completely unconscious.
__ York stepped back, wiped the sweat from his brow, and let out a long, shuddering breath.
“Phew.” A grin spread across his face.
“Okay.
That?
That felt good.” Then his eyes glittered with sudden greed.
“Quick… check his pockets!
And that gold tooth, don’t let it get away!” He talked to himself.
Just as York was hunched over, scouring the moonlit dirt on all fours like a man possessed, a slow, deliberate clap cut through the silence.
Clap… clap… clap… York’s blood turned to ice.
He whipped his head up, eyes darting toward the sound.
It came from the helicopter.
In the cabin, silhouetted against the dim cockpit lights, sat a wolf, tall and impossibly elegant, her silver fur shimmering like liquid mercury under the moonlight.
She was clapping lazily, those sharp lupine eyes gleaming with wicked amusement as they traced York’s pathetic scramble across the dirt.
“Well, well, well.
Look what the cat dragged in… York.” York swallowed so hard he nearly choked.
“M-Miss Catherine.
Wha… what are you doing here?” The sky had just fallen.
The ground had opened up.
The universe had officially decided to ruin his night.
The worst possible outcome, realized in full.
Lindville had crossed Catherine, and Catherine had found him.
‘Didn’t the old man say only his most trusted people knew about this place?!…
How the hell did she track them down?!’ ‘Old man, you’ve got a rat in your operation the size of a horse!’ “What am I doing here?” Catherine rose from her seat, descending from the helicopter with fluid, predatory grace.
“Lindville conspired with my own brother to put a bullet in my head.
Naturally, I came to prune the weeds root and stem.
But you…” Her smile sharpened.
“You’ve surprised me, York… The moment you slip my leash, you go running straight to my worst enemy?
Or perhaps, you were one of Lindville’s men all along.” The temperature seemed to plummet.
The very air grew heavy, suffocating, as Catherine’s presence swelled into something monstrous.
York felt like prey caught in the gaze of a apex predator.
Cold sweat cascaded down his forehead in rivulets.
He waved his hands frantically, his voice cracking like a teenager’s.
“No, no, no, I swear!
I just took a job!
I was trying to earn some money, that’s all!
I had absolutely nothing to do with the Lindville family before we ran into you, Miss Catherine!” “A coincidence?” Catherine’s laugh was soft and utterly chilling.
“I don’t believe you.
Men never tell the truth anyway.
Would you like to hear how I interrogated my brother this morning?” Her voice dropped to a silken whisper.
“I pulled his claws out first.
One by one.
Then I severed his fingers, each joint, slowly, deliberately.
Then his ears…” York felt his scalp crawl.
He backpedaled instinctively as Catherine closed the distance, each step radiating an almost unbearable pressure.
Desperation seized him.
He raised the pistol, the black barrel trembling as it aimed straight at her heart.
“Stay back!
I’ll shoot!” Catherine didn’t even flinch.
Her eyes went arctic.
“You’re pointing a gun at me?” A smile, cold enough to freeze fire.
“Naughty little puppy.
Naughty puppies need to be disciplined.” The moment the words left her mouth, the forest around them came alive.
A cacophony of rustling, creeping, slithering sounds erupted from every shadow.
York’s blood ran cold as he glimpsed them through his peripheral vision, dozens upon dozens of highly trained wolves, emerging from the treeline like wraiths, rifles raised, red laser sights painting his body in a constellation of death.
York’s heart plummeted into his boots.
He had no doubt, if he didn’t drop that weapon this instant, he’d be perforated beyond recognition.
He hurled the pistol aside, threw his hands up, and summoned the most pathetic, awkward, painfully polite smile he could muster.
“Haha…
what if I said I was just joking, Miss Catherine?
Would you believe me?” “Of course I believe you~.” The ice in Catherine’s expression melted away in an instant, replaced by a warm, almost maternal smile, as if the murderous intent of moments ago had been nothing but a figment of his imagination.
She glided forward, reached out with her black-gloved fingers, and patted his chalk-white cheek with gentle condescension.
“Now then.” Her voice was honey and razor blades.
“You’re coming back with me.” ————•★•————★ Author Note: Thanks for reading!
(And a review too.
Thanks 🪻🪻) P@treaon: Blueduck14