Simon leapt to attack this time. And if he’d been holding back before—trying to knock unconscious rather than kill—he let it all loose now. This bastard was a shifter who had sworn loyalty just yesterday. By shifter law, Simon had the right to do whatever he wanted to the asshole. And so he did.
He took out Dick’s throat. Just swiped hard and fast while letting the tiniest part of his grizzly through. The part that had really sharp claws. Then he spun in a crouch. Vic had finished with his attacker, and they both looked about them. Where was everybody?
Then the old man spoke. “I think that was the last of ’em.” There was clear glee in his tone.
“There were more,” Simon said.
“Yup. We got ’em. Damned punks.”
The man pointed and Simon saw some older men and women, at least three he recognized from the hallway, standing their ground and looking fierce. The youngest had to be sixty, but they were determined. And they all brandished weapons of some sort. Though Mr. Pinero’s was the oldest.
“Is that a real blunderbuss?” he asked. He’d thought Alyssa had been making a joke.
“Yup. Been passed down from my four-great-grandfather.”
He grinned. He couldn’t help it. He’d never thought a blunderbuss would save his life. But even so, his mind was clicking through the possibilities. He hadn’t found Joey yet, and he needed to find Alyssa. Though if he had to guess—
“Simon!”
A chill went down his spine. That was Joey’s voice calling loud enough to be heard over the sirens. He spun to look and saw the bastard at the corner of the neighboring building. It was a single family home with an unkempt yard and a chain link fence around the back and far side. Simon stood in the light of a single yellow porch light and he had Alyssa in a choke hold, a gun to her head. And worse, on the opposite side of Alyssa stood another of his shifters, this one the brown bear.
With extraordinary luck, he could take out one before they killed her. No way could he handle both. Which meant Alyssa was dead.
