“Why do my claws and fangs tingle every time I get upset, angry, excited, or scared?” she asked Max as they headed upstairs to her old bedroom. Brooks and the other guys stayed downstairs to keep an eye out for Boyd and the other hunters.
“It’s an instinct thing,” Max said, following her into the room that didn’t look very different than it had when she’d left for college.
Her mom had insisted on keeping it the way Lana liked for those occasions when she came home from school. Lana hadn’t done it that often, something she regretted now.
“Think of it as a fight-or-flight response,” Max added. “Any of the strong emotions you mentioned flood your body with chemicals. Your inner werewolf doesn’t have a clue why you’re geeked up; it only knows you are. So it prepares you for both possibilities—running or fighting. Normally, a werewolf would have learned how to control that stuff early on, but in your case, you’re just picking it up now.”
Lana was still trying to get this whole alpha, beta, omega thing straight—Max had spent a lot of time explaining it to her last night while her father had been in surgery. She still had a bunch of questions, but they could wait until later. Right now she wanted to pick up her stuff, drop it off at the compound, then get back to the hospital. She didn’t like being away so long. Her father’s surgery had gone well last night, but he was in an induced coma to help his body recover. It was scary to think about him being kept under like that, but she knew it was the best thing for him.
“So, you changed into a werewolf when your dad shot you. I changed because of the car wreck,” Lana said as she packed some extra socks in a small suitcase. Max had mentioned that the floors of the compound were hard and cold. “I’m guessing werewolves don’t get created from warm, fuzzy situations?”
Max shook his head. “Afraid not. As I understand it, the werewolf gene only flips on as a result of a major traumatic event, usually involving the release of large amounts of adrenaline, cortisol, and other stress hormones. I’ve never met a werewolf, regardless of breed, who turned because of a pleasant event.”
She and Max were still talking about that as they rejoined the other SWAT officers downstairs.
“Got everything?” Brooks asked.
At her nod, Zane opened the door, leading the way outside. The moment they stepped onto the porch, Max and the others immediately tensed. She barely had time to register the black SUV pulling away from the curb across the street before all four of them closed around her like a shield, almost crushing her.
She opened her mouth to ask if it was the hunters, but the words never got out as the front windows of her parents’ home exploded around her. Then she was being pushed to the ground and covered with a solid weight as shots were fired over her head and tires squealed. Her teeth and claws extended as her nose filled with the horrible stench of the hunters’ acrid perfume. They were using the same bullets they’d used downtown.
When the weight lifted off her, she looked up to see Brooks and Trey hauling ass down the street after the black SUV as it rounded the corner at the end of the block. Max was heading that way, too, but he was well behind the other guys, probably because he’d been the one on top of her, protecting her with his body.
Lana scrambled to her feet, every instinct screaming at her to chase the vehicle, too, and help catch the men so they couldn’t hurt anyone ever again, but then she caught movement on the other side of the porch. She looked over to see Zane drop to his knees, one hand clutching his left bicep, blood pouring from between his fingers.
“Max!” she shouted. “Zane’s been hit!”
Zane howled, and Lana could practically feel the gut-wrenching pain underlying the primal sound. It was the most soul-searing thing she’d ever heard.
She raced to his side to find him shifting, his body convulsing as his upper canines bit through his lower lip. She grabbed the hand he had clamped to his arm, trying to see how bad the wound was, but he refused to loosen his grip and she couldn’t make him. He was too strong for her.
The familiar stench of the hunter’s perfume hit her then. Crap, Zane had been hit by one of those bullets. If it stung as much as her skin had when Boyd spritzed it on her, it had to be painful as hell.
She was still trying to get Zane to let her take a look at the wound when Max and Trey ran onto the porch. They kneeled beside her to check on Zane, who was grinding his fangs together in an attempt to hold back another howl of pain.
“What the hell happened?” Trey asked as he tried to pry Zane’s fingers away from the wound. Lana swore she heard bones breaking as Trey worked, but she doubted the other werewolf even felt it.
“They shot him,” she said, helping Trey by grabbing Zane’s right arm and trying to hold it down. Max got a grip on the left, and between the two of them, they finally restrained him.
Trey scowled as he tore the entire sleeve of Zane’s uniform off, exposing the wound. “We get shot all the time. A bullet to the arm should be a joke.”
“It’s not the bullet that’s the problem. It’s the stuff the hunters put in the bullet,” Lana told him. “Can’t you smell it?”
Trey leaned forward to sniff the wound, then quickly recoiled, his eyes watering. “What the hell is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said, practically yelling to be heard over Zane’s growl. “But when that guy sprayed it on my arm, it felt like lava. I washed it off within seconds but it still left a burn mark that lasted for two days.”
The sound of footsteps on the porch made her look up. Brooks stood there, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath, his blue-gray eyes filled with concern as Zane continued to writhe in pain.
“We have to go,” he said. “Neighbors are starting to come out to see what the hell all this noise is about. Can we move him?”
Trey and Max exchanged looks, clearly torn at the idea of moving Zane, who was going through uncontrollable shifts now.
“We have to do something,” Trey said, his words coming out way calmer than Lana felt. “I need to get the bullet out and probably flush the wound to get rid of the poison.”
“I’ll carry him,” Brooks said.
Lana immediately moved out of the way along with Max and Trey. Despite how much Zane was thrashing around, Brooks easily picked him up. Lana and Max ran ahead and lowered the backseat of the SUV so Trey would have room to work. Brooks set Zane down as carefully as he could, then stepped back to let Trey climb in.
