“We can help you with that. We have a lab with scientists who are in the know.”
“Like Dr. Sherilyn?”
All three werewolves curled their lip in disgust, but it was the beta who spoke. “Cats are notoriously isolationist. They don’t share, and she is outside the city right now. We have a lab inside. Surely you want to meet the scientist who has already isolated—”
“It’s the twenty-first century, guys. Give me their email addresses. We don’t need to communicate in person.”
Mr. Sims’s expression flattened out. “This information is highly sensitive. We value our people’s safety above all things. We do not share—”
“Then I think you’re the ones being isolationist. Scientists share data. It’s what we do.” Truthfully, that was a bit of a lie. Researchers could be as territorial as anyone, but she wasn’t going to go to some secret lab with these people. Not even with Hank tagging along for protection. She didn’t know if it was his paranoia creeping into her or the fact that she had juicy data sitting on her phone from the supposedly territorial Dr. Sherilyn. Either way she had plenty to work on without visiting some secret lab with guys who picked her lock while she was sleeping. Which meant she was done with this conversation.
“Look guys, this has been fun and all—”
The werewolves attacked.
The speed of it was so startling that Cecilia kept talking while it was going on. “—but I’ve got a ton of work—Eep!”
One werewolf jumped across the table, wrapped an arm around her chest, and hauled her backward. The other two shifted in the blink of an eye. Suddenly wolves were leaping out of their clothing, and as they jumped forward, Hank tripled in size.
The table was knocked aside, banging hard into her knees. She was already screaming, but the bastard’s meaty fist was on her mouth, muffling everything she did. She tried to bite down. She tried to kick and claw, but she hadn’t the strength or the leverage. And pretty soon she was pinned against a muscular human chest.
Meanwhile in front of her was a battle too dizzying for her to follow. She saw Hank, big and black in the center of the room. His claws were huge and he fought with precision as wolves came at him from every side. He’d told her wolves were fast, but she hadn’t processed what that meant. They were constantly in motion, leaping at him, taking a swipe or a bite, then landing out of his reach. Two of them worked together to keep Hank from doing anything but defending himself.
Or so she thought. Until he connected one of his razor-sharp claws with a wolf. She heard the canine yelp and blood spurted in the air, but she couldn’t see more. The other one was still coming at him, and there was definitely blood on Hank’s face and torso. His? Theirs?
All the while, she was being carried steadily toward the door. The only reason she wasn’t there already was that her captor had to avoid the battle.
Panic clawed at her throat. Not just for her, but Hank, too. The terror of being dragged away against her will and the rapid violence in front of her. Too fast to process except for panic. Too much to see except chaos and blood.
And Hank. In the center with flashing teeth and claws.
Then something flew at her. Something large and furry. She barely saw it coming when she felt the impact. A wolf, heavy and squirming. It knocked her off her feet. More important, he slammed her captor backward as well.
She felt the impact as the bastard holding her crunched against the kitchen counter. She was breathless and squished, but also suddenly free. While the huge werewolf scrambled away, she fell forward onto her knees. She started moving as fast as she could. Away from the assholes. And screaming loudly.
Someone had to help them. Someone—
Something touched her foot and she kicked out, snapping a wolf head back. Take that, beta big shot. Take this as my rejection of your job offer. Then she heard a roar, and this time it was low and very bearlike.
Hank!
She looked up to see blood burst from his neck and shoulder. Oh damn, damn, damn. One of the wolves had opened up his neck. That was bad. His entire left arm was dangling useless, though he still swung viciously arcs with his right.
Who was left standing? Who was still moving?
She did a quick scan. Her captor was on the floor, his spine possibly broken given the way he was clawing with his upper body. But then she saw him shimmer and change. The man became a wolf with fully functioning legs.
Fuck.
The one who had been thrown into her was still on his feet, too. He was spinning around to get a bead on Hank, though he seemed slower than he’d been before. And the one who had tried to bite her? He was recovering as well, though she could see a pool of blood spilling out of his belly. And maybe intestines, too. Could wolves recover from being disemboweled?
She had to do something so she grabbed the first thing she could. Her desk chair. A metal thing on wheels. She slammed it into the one still on the floor and gleefully watched as it also fouled the footing of the guy who’d just shifted into a wolf.
And then there was another yelp and more blood. She didn’t need to look because the third werewolf landed with his throat slit on top of the chair before flopping down on the gutted wolf.
Which left the last one standing on shaking legs. The one who should have had his spine broken. He looked at his bleeding companions, then back at Hank. Then he dashed for the door. Except the door was shut, and wolves can’t open them. His front paws scrambled at the knob to no avail.
Hank advanced, lumbering steadily forward while blood poured from his neck. Not spurting, she realized. Not arterial, but it was still bad.
