A long, heaving whimper preceded an unsettling silence, and she held completely still, listening to the single growl of the enemy wolf at the back door. The gun rattled in her hands, and she forced her hands to steady themselves as she aimed the barrel from where she stood by the fireplace.
She didn’t let her mind wander to what could have happened to Ronan. She couldn’t allow herself to think about who this shifter was or why they wanted to hurt her. She simply guessed how tall the wolf might be, since she had never seen one in real life, and looked down the barrel to line up the sight.
Not even when the back door crashed down, shards of wood and glass scattering across the clean floor of the kitchen, did she let herself flinch. One hasty move and she’d lose her chance. She had to make this shot count.
Larger than she anticipated, the wolf stared her down, golden eyes glinting with an insatiable, feral ferocity. Ebony fur bristled and gleamed in the kitchen light. Triangular ears pricked forward as claws scraped against the tile. Lips pulled up to reveal bloodstained fangs as it snarled at her. The beast prowled forward, steps slow as he sized up his prey.
Gathering up all the courage she had left, Erica refused to be prey. Not today.
The wolf leapt for her, and she pulled the trigger.
The animal jerked backward in midair and fell to the floor. Erica, too, was thrown by the recoil of the weapon and nearly hit her head on the edge of the mantel. Her ears rang with the report of the gun, and her hands and arms tingled from the shockwave. She knew a nasty bruise might show up on her shoulder tomorrow where she’d braced the butt of the shotgun.
Massive paws kicked as it tried to scramble back to its feet. A shrill, pitiful whine struggled from its throat, and she watched as blood caked over its chest and smeared across the polished white ceramic kitchen tiles. She cycled the round in preparation to shoot again, but it wasn’t needed.
Tiny wisps of smoke curled upward from the hole in the animal’s chest, and whines were displaced by a sickening gurgling sound. Then there was stillness, while the sports commentator announced a home run.
Erica stared at the dead animal, the dead shifter, and would have dropped the gun if she hadn’t fallen to her knees first. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she heard the soft, breathy whimpers of her godfather from outside. He was still alive.
With little strength left in her arms, she let the gun slip from her hands and tried to tell her body to move, to go to Ronan’s aid. She knew nothing about animals or injuries, but she had to do something.
As she sat there, too dazed to even take her eyes off the lifeless creature, she kept telling herself that she’d had to do it. She’d had to kill it. It might have killed Ronan, and if given the chance, it would have killed her too.
All the thoughts she should have considered before ever picking up the gun raced through her mind. What would Dominic think when they told him that she had killed a shifter? What would her father think of her? Did she just become amurderer? It was self-defense, but could she even be arrested for something like this? Somehow, she expected the wolf to morph back into a human. It didn’t. Its golden eyes stared into the endless abyss of death, the soul gone, and the heart never to beat again.
*
While Hank took care of Xavier and tracked down Nathan’s trail from Wyatt’s house, Dominic headed straight for Renewed Relics. Before he came within a block of the place, he picked up the rebel alpha’s scent, and it sent his wolf spiraling into a fit of rage. He kept the beast at bay. For now.
If they couldn’t settle this as men, they would settle it in true shifter fashion. This time, he wouldn’t let Wyatt slink away with his tail between his legs.
He saw the lock busted on the front door, and he pushed his way through, unconcerned about the overhead bell announcing his arrival. The air inside the shop was pregnant with that all-consuming need for violence, for bloodshed and chaos.
He stopped and let the door shut behind him before he soundlessly tracked the steady heartbeat of the shifter that had upset the balance of his world. It wasn’t hard to pick up between the ticking of the clocks in the back corner of the shop and beneath the soft whirl of the air conditioner.
“You wanted to talk to me?”
“I guess Xavier told you where I would be,” Wyatt replied. Dominic adjusted his course to amble down an aisle lined with old cooking utensils on display racks. “I can smell his blood on you.”
“I won’t even ask how you would know what his blood smelled like.” If Dominic guessed right, Wyatt must have shed adrop or two of it himself to make the beta so meek and timid. “Instead, I’ll ask what the hell you were thinking when you put all those drugs in Erica’s house.”
The alpha’s feet shuffled against the old floorboards. “I didn’t put them there. Nathan did.”
“But you told him to. Why?”
Dominic saw a bit of movement between two vases and slowed, keeping all his senses open as he tracked Wyatt through the store.
“What makes you think I told him to?”
Dominic growled. “Quit playing games with me.”
“Games?” Wyatt laughed. “I’m not playing any games.”
Dominic could feel his claws slip out as he rounded the end of an aisle and glided between two end tables piled with vintage toy cars and trucks. “I’m getting sick of this, Wyatt! Xavier told me how you want Tolstone. What’s the angle here? Why bring Erica into it?”
“Simple.”
Dominic spun to face Wyatt, who stood only a few yards away in the open, three aisles over with his hands shoved in his pockets like he was just another wandering customer.
