Rhea waited, expecting footsteps — anything that might tell her someone was about to open the door. Instead, a muffled voice hissed again, rasping through the wood: "Hold his legs, idiots. Can't you see I'm having a hard time here?"
Her stomach twisted. Oh, hell no.
Her fist slammed into the wood with a crack. "Open this door, you sick bastards!" she shouted. "What the hell are you doing in there? Who the fuck are you holding down? This pack is rotting, I swear it!" Her pounding grew harder, rattling the handle. "Open it before I break it down myself. Don't test me. I'll drag every single one of you out by your hair if I have to!"
But the more she shouted, the stranger it felt. Her racket echoed through the hallway, yet not a single person came to see what was happening. Every door along the passage stayed tightly shut, as if the whole pack had gone deaf.
"What the hell is wrong with you people," she barked, slamming her palm harder. "Come out this instant!"
