***
He woke with a start to English voices quite like his own. He felt groggy and realised the cage floor was covered in vomit.
Shit, he thought.
Dear Lord, that stinks, his wolf thought, and Keith gave an annoyed growl. English accents. Last time I checked, we were in Michigan, and now we're somewhere in the U.K. That means we've been on this boat, or that's what I assume it is because normal people don't dress in crappy overalls like that unless they're loony, for a week or so. Bloody hell, home sweet home, eh?
A week. No wonder there was all the foul-smelling vomit, Keith could barely stomach a half an hour ferry journey from Dover to France; let alone 6 fucking days from America to England! Keith was English, but his voice had an Irish lilt. He'd moved to Michigan to distance himself from his family after a huge family disagreement, where most of - if not all - the family was against him. Anyone'd feel pressured, Keith's family was goddamn huge. He had originally intended to go back home, to London, but had never got around to it.
A few more men followed the first in, various shapes and sizes but all wearing the same dirty orange overalls. There was not a single overall that was not smeared with dirt, grime, and oil. One bloke with dark red hair kept glancing at him warily. Granted, they all were doing so - duh, he was a wolf. But this kid was looking at him... different. Keith supposed he was a were too, and sat pondering it calmly as all of the crates were hauled out into a van, then off the ferry, and outside. People, mostly fat women in fur coats with their nervous looking husbands, rushed forwards to grab their snotty poodles or hissing Siamese cats and shot Keith worried or disgusted glances. He bit back a harsh laugh that would probably have come out as a bark of some sort, even though wolves didn't bark.
Instead, he sprang to his feet, his whole calm demeanour dissolved as his eyes fell upon Him. His lips curled back over his teeth and saliva began dripping from his teeth as his golden flecked green eyes narrowed and the silver fur on his hackles raised. There came that weird-un-named-son-of-a-bitch-white-coat-wearing bastard, smug as you like, not a hair out of place. The one that had burst through the door after Keith'd forced Adam into sex - well, it wouldn't be sex, it'd be rape - with armed guards, gave him a huge dose of fucking horse tranquilizer (though it felt like they had given him something like bloody elephant tranquilizer. He was unsteady on his feet and his vision was blurred) and took him God knows where. Keith was hoping beyond hope that someone would see his distress...
But no one did.
He knew he couldn't shift, he'd get put into the zoo. Or worse, strapped to some loony's operating table. Not that he would be better off where he was.
"You sure 'e's a hybrid, sir? Looks feral to me," one of the overalls commented.
"Quite sure. Gift from my Aunt, bless her poor soul. He'd just a bit nervous, he came all the way from Michigan see... and he's probably not broken in yet."
The red haired fella watched Keith get hauled away with a muzzle around his nose.
Yeah, he's a 'wolf, he and his own wolf thought in unison.
Keith would have found him attractive, but, given the circumstances, that'd be hardly appropriate. He begged him with his eyes to help instead, as multiple sharp tugs on his jaws had him shuffled away bit by bit.
The bloke did actually look like he was going to, but a man rested a slender hand on his shoulder and told him to "stop staring at passengers and get back to work". Meekly he nodded and walked away with one last apologetic look in Keith's direction. At that last notion, Keith's wall of resistance finally crumbled. It'd have been futile to keep fighting anyway, and would probably have landed him in more trouble than he was in already, so he didn't struggle against Hair Gel's strong hold. Roughly he was shoved into the back of a black van and he took his last look at the outside world before the doors closed with a slam.
