The stink of gunfire tore through the air at the same time my body rocketed sideways. My head glanced against the flagstones so hard pale stars exploded in the corner of my vision. I blinked sluggishly. The world came back into focus, but all I could see was darkness.
Dense, soft blackness.
I reached out, and my fingertips met fur.
Even though moving made my skull scream in pain, I shifted to see past the fur.
A black wolf lay on top of me.
He’d knocked me out of the bullet’s path, but now he was crushing my lungs. I shifted again, this time extricating my body from underneath the beast.
A volley of snarls and screams echoed next to me. Gritting my teeth, I twisted toward the cacophony. A gray wolf was on top of Aidan, fangs bared at the psycho’s ashen, pulpy face. Aidan’s lips moved. The bastard was still alive. How I wished he were dead.
He spit at the wolf. It struck the man’s face with its giant paw. Aidan’s cheek slammed hard against the sticky, wet stones. His purple-veined lids slid shut, lashes fluttering against sallow skin.
I pressed my shaky palm against the ground and heaved myself into a sitting position.
The gray wolf magicked away his fur and claws and fangs. Lucas. He whipped his head toward me. The area around his mouth was tinged crimson, and his black hair was as wild as his blue gaze.
“Liam!” he yelled as he jumped off Aidan and soared toward me.
Liam?
Liamhad saved me?
“Liam!”
He lay still, as still as Aidan and the hound.
A new wave of terror beat at the back of my throat.
Lucas rolled Liam’s large lupine form over and pressed a hand against his flank. When Lucas drew his fingers away, his palm was dyed a deep red. “Call Matt!”
Sick chills pulsated through me.
“Ness! Fucking call him!” Lucas hollered.
Hands shaking, I dug through my bag for my phone. I managed to grasp it, but it slipped out of my slick fingers and tumbled on the stones.
Lucas, who’d pressed his hand back against the wound in Liam’s side, growled at me. “Are you waiting for him to die?”
“N-No.” I seized my phone again. Entered the wrong code. Twice. The third time I managed to unlock it. I began scrolling through my contacts when I remembered I didn’t have Matt’s phone number. “I d-don’t have it.”
Lucas barked the number at me.
Fingertips tap-tapping against the screen, it took me several attempts to get the number entered right.
Matt’s voice came on before I could even speak. “Who’s this?”
I was trying to gather my voice, but it kept jamming behind my jumpy breaths. “M-M-Matt…”
“Ness?”
I nodded stupidly.
Matt couldn’t hear me nod.
Lucas growled and tore the phone from my inept fingers. While he spoke, I touched Liam’s neck. I felt a soft flutter nip my fingertips.
I smoothed the fur on his cheek. “He-He’s alive.”
“Barely,” Lucas muttered. “The fucker probably used a silver bullet.” He twisted to look at Aidan, who hadn’t moved.
His chest still rose and fell, but he was out cold.
“If Liam dies, I’m going to shred Aidan Michaels’s body with my claws, then tear his carotid out with my fangs, and then I’ll watch him bleed the fuck out.”
It was petty, but the pack’s double-standards stung.
“Fuck. I can’t staunch the fucking blood.”
“Here.” I pulled my tank top off, then balled it up and handed it to Lucas.
He wadded it against the hole.
“Is there an exit wound?”
Lucas blinked at me, and then, clutching my t-shirt, he lifted his friend’s leg and felt blindly for a puckered hole. “I can’t goddamn see anything!”
I scooted over and prodded the velvety flesh, seeking depressions. Found none. The bullet was still inside Liam
And if it was made of silver…
I shuddered then returned to Liam’s head and pressed my palm delicately against his nose. It was wet and cold, pulsing weak breaths against my clammy skin.
It should’ve been my leg that leaked blood.
It should’ve been me.
Why did you do that?
As I stroked his fur, a car engine roared and rubber squealed.
A silver sedan glinted in the darkness.
Matt was here.
Matt must’ve ground his foot into the brake, because the tires shrieked as the Dodge vaulted to a stop. He opened his door, and then, face as pale as the clouds twisting over the moon, he pumped open his trunk, took out a heavy blanket, and jogged toward us. Without uttering a single word, he spread the heavy fabric on the blood-soaked flagstones, then shoved me aside, crooked one arm underneath Liam’s neck, and snared his forepaws.