He popped his head out of the door to see Sadie come belting towards them.
“Get in the fucking van!” She yelled, glancing back over her shoulder at the cottage. “They’re here!”
Gunshots rang out behind her and the sound of wood splintering.
Fucking hell.
Whirling around, he started to shut the internal door, but Cole’s mum was out of her seat, grabbing his arm. “What about Cole?”
“I’ll go get him and meet you there, but you need to go now!”
She stood back and he slammed the door, pulling the rack of bread in front of it. When the back of the van was locked tight, he slammed on the side. “Go!”
Sadie didn’t ask why he wasn’t coming. She leaned out the window, hissed, “Head to Carnglaze!” at him, then sped out of the drive in a shower of gravel. Logan hoped like fuck there was no one waiting for them.
Shouting and snarling sounded inside.
Whoever’d burst through that door had fucking shifted. They were stronger as their wolf, faster, but Logan couldn’t afford to be in his wolf form right now. He needed to get to Cole and that meant opening doors and talking.
Running in through the back door, Logan braced himself for a wolf attack. The bullet caught him off guard, lodging in his shoulder and spinning him back into the door. The second one skimmed the top of his ear.
Motherfucker.
Pain burst inside him, rippling outwards, and it took everything he had to shake himself and rush towards the arsehole aiming a gun at him—one of Paul’s men.
Of fucking course.
He weaved his way across the room, fully expected more bullets aimed his way, but when nothing happened, Logan took his chance. With a roar, he forced himself to half-shift. The pain at this point paled in comparison to his shoulder as it tried to heal around the bullet lodged there. He’d get one shot at it before he’d have to shift back. Before the guy got a chance to reload, Logan launched himself in the air, claws slashing across the guy’s forearm, knocking the gun away and leaving deep gouges in his flesh.
He screamed as Logan struck bone, but it died to a gurgle in his throat when Logan’s other hand tore through his neck.
Wiping his hands on his jeans, Logan sprinted up the stairs to where the snarling was coming from, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as best he could.
The bathroom door hung half off its hinges.
A huge grey wolf pushed against it, jaws snapping as it tried to get at what was behind it—presumably Cole—trapped in the corner.
Logan relaxed his jaw and hands, letting go of the half-shift and taking a moment to assess. The wolf hadn’t noticed him yet, too concerned with getting at Cole. It was huge though, feral-looking, as though it spent far too much time in that form instead of human. Logan hesitated, not sure he could win against it, especially being injured.
Fuck it, he had to get the bullet out.
Slipping back around the corner of the landing, out of sight, he ripped away the material around the wound. With any luck, the wolf was too crazed to pick up his scent.
Hang on just a bit longer, Cole.
Gritting his teeth, Logan forced his claws back out and dug for the bullet, mind focused on one thing only.
Jesus fucking Christ.
It hurt.
The tips of his fingers throbbed and the claws in his shoulder felt like hot pokers jabbing his flesh, but he screwed his eyes shut and bit back the whimper threatening to escape.
Cole needed him.
The snarling intensified, and Cole’s sudden cries for help pierced through Logan’s haze of pain. When his fingers closed around the tiny misshapen piece of metal, he pulled it out and prayed like fuck he’d got it all.
With the bullet removed, his body got to work healing itself. Already Logan felt the muscle knitting back together, his skin closing over the wound until only a pink jagged line remained. It wouldn’t be totally healed for a while, but at least the pain had lessened, and he had the majority of his movement back.
