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“How?”
“See the slot on the bottom? See the bullets at the top of the clip? Push till it clicks.”
Reese obeyed.
A man charged. Phillips fired, cutting a line across his face. He collapsed.
“I thought you were supposed to shoot people in the chest.”
“He’s wearing body armor, and I want them dead.” She jerked her head at the wall. “Put on one of those vests.”
Reese found one that would fit and slipped it on. At least he’d watched enough cop shows to know which way to run the Velcro.
Gunfire pelted the side of the van, punching holes through the metal.
Reese yelled and ducked.
“Shit.” Phillips dragged him out and pushed him to the ground on the other side with the wheel at his back.
“What happened to staying in the van?”
Three gunmen bolted past them, and Phillips squeezed the trigger. Blood splatter puffed from the impact point. The first one went down less than a yard from Reese. The other two went to their knees and crawled.
“What happened to kill—”
The van rocked and a deadly sliver of night descended on the retreating survivors, separating their bodies into ribbons of flesh under its razor-tipped paws.
It turned, glowing green eyes locked on Phillips. She set aside the weapon.
“She’s on our side.” Reese scooted closer to her. “Johnathan. She saved me. She’s on our side.” He waved his arms.
The Sarvari looked at him.
And Reese had the insane urge to run, but not in fear. In challenge. To see if this wolf was good enough.
“Whatever you’re thinking, Dr. Dante, don’t,” Phillips still had her attention on the massive wolf that had once been Johnathan.
Reese shook himself. “Not running. No running.” He hoped.
The Sarvari peeled away, revealing the man—every naked stitch of him—and the healing bullet holes in his chest. “Are either of you hurt?”
Reese averted his eyes, studying the ring of dirt on the cuff of his sweatshirt.
“Other than a few bruises.” Phillips got to her feet. She offered Reese a hand. He took it.
“Where’s Craige?” Johnathan looked at Reese when he said it.
Reese rubbed the back of his neck. “Apparently, he changed his mind about who was going to be in charge. Dalton shot him, then stuck him with what looked like an EpiPen. I think it might have been Rakta. But it was fast, so it might have been something else.” Or Craige hadn’t had the constitution to fight it as long.
“Rakta isn’t easy to come by,” Phillips said.
“I’ll worry about that later.” Johnathan nodded at the van. “Take Dr. Dante to the Rickenbacker International Airport. Get him on the plane. If we’re not there in an hour, tell the pilot to take him to Ontario.”
“You think he’s going to do what I tell him?”
“If it’s just Dr. Dante, yes.”
“I’m standing right here. Don’t I get a say in this? Like I think leaving Luca, Nash, and the others is a very bad idea.”
