It feels like a bee sting. Small. Insignificant.
Then the capsule shatters inside me.
Fire.
It’s not heat. It’s chemical. It’s acid. It feels like someone has injected molten lava directly into my bloodstream.
I yelp—a high, broken sound that shames the Wolf.
My legs give out. I crash into the mud, sliding three feet. The agony is total. It overrides my vision, my hearing, my sense of smell. It feels like my veins are being scoured with wire brushes.
Liquid silver.Concentrated. Pure.
The Wolf screams in my head, terrified, and retreats.
The shift isn't voluntary. It’s a rejection. My body can't hold the magic anymore. The silver is burning it away.
Bones snap. Muscles shrink. Fur recedes into skin that feels like it’s flayed open.
I’m screaming. I can hear myself screaming, a raw, human sound that tears my throat raw.
I’m lying in the muck, naked, shivering violently. The pain in my flank is a pulsing star of white-hot agony.
"Got you," Gregor’s voice drifts through the haze.
He racks the bolt of his rifle. He steps closer, his boots squelching in the mud. He aims at my head.
"No!"
The scream comes from the porch. Miranda.
"Jax!"
"Get... back..." I choke out, trying to push myself up. My arms are jelly. The mud is entering my mouth, tasting of iron and oil.
Gregor puts his finger on the trigger.
Suddenly, hands grab my shoulders.
"Move, Alpha!"
Remy.
He drags me backward, hauling my dead weight through the sludge.
Crack.
A bullet hits the mud where my head was a second ago.
Crack.
Remy grunts. He stumbles, his grip slipping on my slick skin. Fresh blood sprays across my chest—bright, arterial red.
"Remy," I wheeze.
"Shoulder," he gasps, regripping me with his good arm. "Just a graze. Move your legs, Jax!"
I try. I can't feel my legs. The silver is moving fast, traveling up my nervous system.
