Marked
The shock of this animal’s presence raced through my senses, as if I had just sniffed ammonia.
I looked to my right and zoomed in. There, in the corner, was a large Rottweiler. He sat up slowly, stared at me, and snarled. He broke into a low, guttural growl. It was Butch. I remembered him now. The Colemans’ nasty Rottweiler. As if the Colemans needed a vicious animal to add to their picture of mayhem.
The Colemans had always been bad news. Three brothers—17, 15, and 13—somewhere along the way, Sam had become friends with the middle brother, Gabe. Each was worse than the next.
Bab Populer