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Someone’s hands touched my face and forced me to look up. I flinched, startled, because I hadn’t known anyone was there. Ben held my face and studied me with a wild gaze. His heart was racing. I could hear it.
“Kitty,” he said roughly.
I slumped, gripping his arms to keep myself upright. Every muscle had turned to molasses. My laugh sounded more like a gasp. “It wasn’t silver.”
He slumped, too. We were in danger of melting into the ground. “Not silver.”
I nodded quickly, and he pressed his face to mine. “Oh, my God,” he sighed near my ear, then kissed my cheek. I clung to him.
Hardin barked a question. “Officer Sawyer—you’re not packing silver?”
“Uh . . . no, ma’am. Didn’t have time to file the requisition form.” He sounded sheepish.
Thank God. Thank you thank you thank you . . .
“Next time, get those bullets. And don’t fucking shoot the informant!”
This wasn’t over. I felt a new pain—not from the wound, which had faded. Something else tore at my gut. Wolf. We’d been attacked. We’d been hurt. Now, it was up to her to protect us. She surged through my blood, took hold of my eyes, my senses. My whole body tensed as she seized me.
“Ben.” My voice grated through my clenched jaw. I was Changing; it was coming so fast.
He knew what was happening. He pulled me to him, held me tight, and hissed in my ear. “Keep it together. Deep breaths, Kitty. Hold it in.”
My skin was sliding, my bones melting, I thrashed at my clothes, had to get them off, had to get away—
“Hardin, get your people out of here!” Ben shouted. Finally giving in to what was happening, he ripped off my shirt and tugged at my bra.
Wrenching out of Ben’s grip, I screamed.
Dizzy, angry. Can’t see straight. Chest aches—injured. Not for long, already healing, but the pain lingers. So does the anger.
She kicks at the ropes that trap her, tangle her legs—remnants of the old shape. Hadn’t gotten rid of that false skin in time. It’s come so quickly, so unexpectedly. But she is in danger. She has to protect herself, and she can run faster on four legs than on two.
An attack, hunters on all sides of her, cornering her—Her other half recognizes the two-legged hunters with their handheld burning deaths. Must defend herself. There—the one whose hand smells hot, burns with the scent of sulfur and oil. He’s the one who hurt her.
She lowers her head and growls.
“Oh, my God,” the voice behind her says. “Becky, Shaun, stop her!”
Nothing can stop her. Her body is wind, her claws are blades, her voice is thunder.
Now her target smells like fear. Sweat has broken out on his skin. When he takes a step back, she knows she has him. She will rip his flesh and taste his bloo
d. Her lips draw back from fierce teeth and a salivating mouth as she launches herself toward her victim. She runs, her claws scraping on the pavement. Digs into the ground, leaps, stretching for him, and his scream thrills her blood. Her paws are on him, her rough pads scraping his false skin, and he falls—
A body intercepts her, knocking her away from her prey. She lands on her feet and looks. The attacker crouches, facing her, staring her down. Daring to stare her down. She pants and takes the scent of the intruder—one of her kind, one of her pack. The new female.
And before she can strike at her, to put her in her place, hands—human, naked hands—grab her from behind, pull at her, hold her. She snarls, fights, twists, slashes with claws, with teeth. Two of them hold her back. They are pack. They can’t do this, she’ll show them, she’ll show them who’s strongest—
The place is chaos. There is running and shouting. Still can’t see straight for all the chaos.
“Kitty! Hold still, just hold still!”
Even as the growl rattles her lungs, a hand on her chest and a voice by her ear make her pause.
“Sh, Kitty. It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re safe.”
She stops struggling; the two-legged wolf holds her back.
