Page 36 of Crowbar

“I said get out.” My voice cracked on the last word, but I didn’t lower the gun.

Ken took another step. Then another. Blood dripped from his chin onto his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were locked on mine, and the expression on his face was the same one he’d worn right before he broke my arm the first time.

Calm. Cold. Certain.

He lunged for me. The gun went off. His eyes went wide.

The front door exploded inward. The door frame cracked like a gunshot of its own as the wood splintered.

My arm swung toward the door. The gun was still in my hand, finger on the trigger, adrenaline making everything move too fast and too slow at once.

Crowbar crossed the distance between us before I could blink. His hand closed around my wrist and twisted. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that my fingers opened on reflex. The gun clattered to the floor, and he picked it up, handing it off to Diesel.

Behind me, Ken made a sound. Part gasp, part wheeze.

Then arms wrapped around my waist from behind and yanked me backward. Ken’s good arm locked across my throat, pulling me against him like a shield. The pressure cut off half my air supply, and I clawed at his forearm.

“Back off!” Ken’s voice was muffled, thick with blood. “Back off or I snap his neck!”

Crowbar went still. His eyes locked on mine, storm-cloud blue that had gone flat and empty. The toothpick was gone from his mouth. That small detail felt important somehow, like the absence of it meant something terrible was about to happen.

“Let him go.” Crowbar’s voice came out low and even, but something underneath it made the hair on my arms stand up.

“No.” Ken tightened his grip. Stars burst across my vision, and I gasped for air that wouldn’t come. “You’re going to leave. All of you. Or I swear to god I’ll—”

Crowbar’s body began to change.

At first, I thought my oxygen-starved brain was playing tricks. But his shoulders broadened, straining against his shirt. Bones cracked and reformed with sounds like wet branches snapping. His face elongated, jaw pushing forward, and fur erupted across his skin in a wave of dark grey that rippled outward from his center.

Ken’s arm went slack around my throat. “What the—”

The transformation took maybe three seconds. Where Crowbar had stood, a massive wolf now crouched on my hardwood floor. Easily the size of a small car, with teeth longer than my fingers and eyes that glowed with something that wasn’t entirely animal.

My brain stuttered to a halt. Wolves. Werewolves. Crowbar was a werewolf. My boyfriend was a werewolf and he’d just shifted in my apartment and I was about to pass out because Ken was still choking me and also werewolves were real.

Ken’s grip vanished entirely. His body hit the floor with a heavy thud that shook the floorboards.

Air rushed back into my lungs. Coughing, I stumbled forward and nearly fell before hands caught my shoulders. Preacher.

“Easy,” he said. “You’re all right.”

Behind me, sounds erupted that I would never be able to unhear. Wet tearing. Bone breaking. Ken screaming then not screaming anymore because the screaming cut off with a gurgle that made my stomach turn inside out.

“Don’t look,” the biker said, but I’d already turned my head.

The wolf stood over what was left of Ken. Blood matted its fur and dripped from its muzzle. What lay on my floor wasn’t recognizable as human anymore. Just pieces. Red and broken and very, very dead.

My knees gave out. The biker caught me before I hit the ground, lowering me.

“Deep breaths,” he said. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

I tried. The air got halfway to my lungs before everything started spinning. The room tilted sideways, and darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.

“He’s going into shock,” someone else said. Deeper voice. “Diesel, get the pup.”

Paws thundered across the floor. Then something warm and furry landed in my lap. Noodles. She licked my face with her tiny tongue, whining and pawing at my shirt.

“Hey, baby,” I whispered. My voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. “You okay?”