Gage turned to her, his body tense, his eyes on fire, and his lips pulled back in an angry snarl. Mac took a step back, her hands bringing up the pistol before she even realized what she was doing. That was when she noticed she was holding the camera, too. She was a journalist. Catching action on film was second nature to her—she did it without thinking.
When Gage stepped closer, she stepped back. He stopped and raised his hands in a silent gesture. He locked eyes with hers, and despite how afraid she was, the sadness there made her heart squeeze in her chest.
Mac shoved the camera in her rear pocket so she could use two hands to steady the gun. She wanted to think Gage wouldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t even know if the thing in front of her was Gage anymore.
“What are you?” she asked.
As she watched, the monster in front of her slowly shifted back into the form of the man she knew—or thought she knew. But the four dead bodies made it impossible to forget what she’d seen.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Gage said quietly. “And I’m sorry I scared you.”
The hurt in his eyes tore at her, but she refused to give in to it. “Answer my question. What are you?”
The muscle in Gage’s jaw ticked. “I’m a werewolf.”
Awerewolf?
It was insane.
And if she hadn’t seen the sharp claws and wicked fangs with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it.
But she had seen them, and every suspicious thing she’d had no explanation for now made perfect sense—the feeling that Gage and the rest of his SWAT team were hiding something, the fact that they didn’t use their night vision goggles during their missions, the lack of concern over Martinez’s injury.
She looked at Gage’s shoulder. The gunshot wound that had been bleeding freely just a few minutes ago in the barn was now miraculously healed.
She thought back to how the SWAT team had reacted at the restaurant when Hardy’s men had come in, how hard they trained, how they’d survived a freaking house collapsing on them. And finally, she remembered the wolf-head tattoo that every member of the team wore.
She lowered the gun. “You’re all werewolves, aren’t you? The whole SWAT team?”
Gage’s eyes widened in alarm. “I know what you’re thinking, Mackenzie, but you can’t tell anyone.”
Was he kidding? This was huge, bigger than huge—the biggest story she’d ever stumbled on. Werewolves were real and she’d captured one on camera.
She took a deep breath. Crap. Werewolves were real, and a whole…pack…of them were employed by the city of Dallas. Did the chief of police know? What about the mayor? Were they werewolves, too?
How was any of this possible?
There was so much she wanted to know. Like who’d turned Gage into a werewolf and whether he’d turned all the other men in the unit.
But she couldn’t ask any of those questions yet. “The public has a right to know the truth.”
The worried look disappeared, replaced by one of irritation. Gage snatched the gun out of her hand and shoved it back in his ankle holster.
“Damn it, Mackenzie, this isn’t a game.”
What the hell did he have to be angry about? He was the one who’d lied to her.
That thought led to a place she didn’t want to go. Had Gage played her over the last several days, had he slept with her, because he was worried she’d find out he was a werewolf?
She opened her mouth to ask him when he slipped one arm under her legs and the other around her shoulder and swung her up in his arms like he was some damn caveman. She immediately struggled to free herself. “Let me go!”
He did, but only after carrying her thirty feet away from the burning barn. She stumbled backward and fell on her butt.
She glared up at him. “What the hell was that about?”
“That.”
Gage pointed at the barn, which was nothing more than a huge bonfire now. As she watched, the front wall fell in on itself, beams and flaming pieces of wood going everywhere, including where she and Gage had been standing.
