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I pull the door open, but look back for a second to see D laying on the floor, his arms extended, smoke coming out of the end of his gun and blood spurting from a wound in Ragnar’s bear’s jaw, as more blood begins to stream down his fur just behind his left shoulder.
“No!” I scream as the grizzly spins. This time it’s Orwell who’s struggled back to his feet and two more shots are fired into the bear.
“Keep shooting!” Raymond screams, turning over and pushing up on his knees, taking aim as Orwell takes another shot. “This fucking bear is not going down.”
I don’t know that much about shifters yet. I do know they are tough, tougher even than their animal counterparts, and I know they can heal, but I also know they are not immortal.
There are only so many shots that grizzly can take.
Fear clutches at my throat as the bear spins, leaping six feet and landing on Raymond, his jaws open, and with one swing of his head he clamps down and tears the flesh from the man’s throat, leaving his hand flailing in the blood for less than a second before the grizzly takes him by what’s left of his neck and shakes him until he goes limp.
Blood flies in a splatter across my yellow walls as Ragnar turns toward the others, but they now have him flanked, guns drawn, as terror courses through me.
“No! No!” I scream, wanting to stop everything. To stop time. This isn’t what I want. I ran away to start a new life. Quiet. Normal. I wanted a banker or an accountant. Someone stable, sturdy…boring.
I didn’t want this.
A man that can kill with the swipe of his paw. Crush bone in his teeth. What was I thinking, getting myself involved with Ragnar?
A shifter.
Still, I lunge forward, running to Ragnar, wanting to stop whatever this is. To hold back the tide of violence. But I know it’s futile. And yet, I have to try.
Another shot rings out just as I get to him. He roars, up on his hind feet, the tops of his ears brushing the ceiling as fresh blood flows from another gunshot wound on his neck.
“Stop this!”
I turn in the center of it all. Ragnar’s grizzly already lunging forward, swiping at the gun with his paw, but instead of connecting with the outstretched arm aiming the pistol, his claws dig into my skin, tearing through my shoulder and sending me flying back against the wall.
My head is ringing as I slump to the floor. When my eyes focus again, terror compresses around me as I watch D take aim.
Ragnar won’t be able to survive much more. A shot to his head would take him down… God, how is this happening? The grief of losing my mother is just under the surface, and if I lose Ragnar?
If I lose Ragnar, I don’t want to live anymore…
I calculate the angle and tense, ready to leap forward, even as the pain in my shoulder makes me dizzy. If I can get my arm around D’s neck, maybe, just maybe—
Suddenly there’s more roars. Different now. Two. No, more, as I spin and see another grizzly lumbering through the door with two enormous wolves following behind.
There are shots firing, furniture breaking, men screaming and animal sounds coming from everywhere.
I back up again against the wall, slipping down and covering the back of my head with my hands as I scream until my throat feels like I’m breathing fire. I hear glass breaking around me and for a split second, I think of the look on Ragnar’s face just after he put his mark on my neck.
The way he looked at me, made me believe in forever, and rage fills me. I want my forever. It’s only just started and I’m not going to sit here and let it be taken away from me without joining the fight.
I push up, looking around as the two men and the animals spill out the back door. Blood is soaking the fabric of my shirt and I pull it away, looking under to see that the grizzly’s claws broke my skin, but it’s nothing life threatening.
One of the wolves is limping and I see blood coming from the other wolf’s side. I look down at Raymond’s mangled body and see his gun laying there.
The metal is cold, slippery in my hand, as his blood drips down my wrist and I lunge toward the back door.
The grizzlies and both wolves are darting and circling as Orwell and D take aim, backing toward their rusted SUV, screaming for them to stay back. All the shifters are shot, most more than once, and I can’t believe they would all give their lives for me.
I click off the safety, something I only know from watching movies, and I take aim on a stiff arm, my other hand holding the gun steady as a cold calm drenches me. I channel my inner action hero and take a long breath.
