“Kit, how about you calm down?” Conroy said.
Kit’s hackles raised. “Calm down? You want me to calm down? When in the history of ever has anyone calmed down because they were told to?”
Conroy looked amused at his outburst. “How about you be the first?” he suggested.
“You can’t go hunting people down for fun,” Kit said. His gaze darted between the three of them. Tati and Kezia were new enough that Kit could beat them one on one, but Conroy was hundreds of years older than him. Kit wouldn’t stand a chance against them all.
Despite that, he readied himself for a fight, his claws lengthening.
“What do you do every night for food?” Kezia asked.
Kit narrowed his eyes. “I do what I have to survive. This isn’t for food; this is barbarism dressed up in silly clothing.”
Tati gasped. “These are vintage.”
The wind changed direction, Conroy’s shirt flapping to reveal even more chest. He sniffed and took a step closer to Kit. “You smell different.”
Tati and Kezia followed, both of their noses sticking up in the air. “He does, Master,” Tati confirmed.
“Whathaveyou been getting up to?” Conroy asked.
Kit raised his chin. “It’s none of your business.”
“Oh my god, he smells like dog,” Kezia said, delighted.
“He smells like wolf,” Conroy corrected. “I suppose that’s why you don’t want us hunting the beast down. Is that right?”
“He’s mine,” Kit said, baring his teeth.
“Now, come on, you know you can’t make a claim unless you’re going to recreate them.” Conroy shot him a self-satisfied smile. “And he’s already a werewolf. It’s impossible.”
“That doesn’t matter—I’ve claimed him. You can’t touch him. Those are the rules,” Kit said.
Conroy shrugged. “I made the rules, darlin’. I can break ’em.”
Despite Kit’s vindication at having pegged Conroy as the rat he was, this wasn’t going the way he needed it to. “The other territory leaders will?—”
Conroy waved a dismissive hand. “They’ll do nothing. It’s a werewolf, which is outside of their jurisdiction. Nobody will care.”
Kit clenched his jaw. So, he was to be alone again.
Except he wasn’t alone. All four of them heard it, turning in unison towards the woods. A long, fierce howl split the air.
Quin.
Conroy didn’t appear worried. He pulled the rifle from his shoulder, removing its strap. “It appears our prey is offering itself to us.”
“I suggest you leave. He’ll rip you limb from limb otherwise,” Kit snarled.
Tati jumped around with glee, rifle rattling.
Kit sped towards the forest, intent on getting to Quin first. Before he got there, white-hot pain seared through his arm, throwing him off-balance. He fell hard onto his side, only then registering the loud bang that echoed across the wide-open field. Clutching his arm, he looked up.
Conroy had his rifle pointed right at Kit. “Next one’ll go in your skull,” Conroy warned. “That’ll be harder to heal from. Stay down and let us have our fun. I don’t want to waste any more of my silver bullets.”
Silver. They hadn’t come to play. Kit gritted his teeth against the pain, blood dribbling from the wound and staining his fingers.
“Oh, please do get up,” Kezia said. “We’ll hunt you down, too.”
