“From the can of fresh meat bleeding out next to you?” Marlow snorted as he sawed against the edge of the strap. “You can’t move that fast.”
“You think you can?” Cade asked. “How’s your knee doing after being T-boned?”
Good question. Marlow couldn’t answer it yet. He could feel the steering wheel where it dug into his thigh, uncomfortable but not painful, but had no idea how functional anything was. He guessed he’d find out.
The strap split under the edge of the knife and snapped. Marlow grunted as the lap belt took his weight. He dangled for a breath, and then it went slack as the fabric scraped through it. He pulled his leg out from under the wheel and dropped awkwardly onto the roof of the car.
The knee was… not great. Marlow clenched his jaw as he squirmed around in the space until he was flat on his stomach. Glass dug into his elbows and knees as he squeezed through the window, arms stretched out in front of him to narrow his shoulders. The road was wet as he pulled himself out.
“Marlow. Kit,” Cade said. His voice was thin, like it had been dragged through his teeth on a wire. “I really liked you.”
“You don’t know me,” Marlow said. He rolled over and scrambled onto his knees. His back was sweaty despite the evening chill, his T-shirt stuck to him. “That probably helps.”
It was the wolf’s smile that flashed over Cade’s face, wild and careless. Then Cade’s face was gone. Marlow sucked in a sharp breath.
Ten years on the Night Shift, his whole life as a null, and Marlow had never seen a wolf shift before. Why should he? It wasn’t a crime to be a wolf, so until they did something that meant Night Shift got called in, they weren’t Marlow’s business.
He didn’t think he’d missed anything.
Bone shattered and reformed, then broke again as anchored muscle thickened from cords into heavy ropes. Skin split and peeled as coarse, tawny fur burst through in matted, slimed tufts. Humanity peeled back like a shed hoodie as the wolf’s broad muzzle and heavy skull pushed through. Torn clothes were dragged off impatiently by clawed hands as the previously tailored fit suddenly pinched and rubbed.
Marlow exhaled. That was how quickly the man was unmade and the werewolf stitched over what was left. It felt like it should have taken longer.
The huge sandy wolf was crushed into the low-slung black wreck, half-strangled by the seat belt that dug into the flesh of its broad, thin-furred chest. He snarled, exposed teeth white and jagged, and the car jolted violently from side to side as Cade thrashed against his constraints. The seat belt went first, snapped in half, and then Cade shouldered the door out. It burst off its hinges and flew across the road to smash against the metal shutters drawn down over the storefront opposite.
Cade shrugged the car off like it was a too-small jacket. He shook himself and shed splinters of glass from his thick coat. He threw his head back, ruff thick and knotted around his neck and shoulders, and howled at the moon.
A few other wolves answered from around the city, drawn up and stretched out between the high-rise buildings and down from the buttes. Not many yet. There would be more as the moon rose higher, until up to 80 percent of the city were ready to throw their heads back.
Marlow scrambled to his feet. He took a step backward. Then another. His heel hit a puddle. The splash was faint, barely there, but it was enough.
One of Cade’s pointed ears twitched toward the sound, and his broad muzzle followed. They stared at each other for a second.
“I liked you.”
The words repeated in Marlow’s head. If he thought about it, he could still pull the taste of Cade’s mouth up from his short-term memory. Under normal circumstances, it would be a nice way to pass the time. Not so much when those same kisses were buried somewhere in a wolf’s hungry brain.
Cade cocked his head to one side and then lunged forward. He leaped easily up onto the undercarriage of the car, balanced on the frame, and snarled at Marlow. His eyes hadn’t changed much, still amber and wolfish.
Marlow pulled his gun in one smooth movement and took aim. The silver ammo was still locked up back in the station, but the hollow points loaded in the magazine would blow a hole the size of his fist in whatever they hit. Werewolves included. The problem was that would only slow Cade down.
And not enough.
“Sorry,” Marlow said.
The first shot punched through the side of the car and took out the radiator. It exploded with a crack of stressed metal and a spray of overheated steam and rusty water that forced its way up through the undercarriage to blast Cade’s feet and legs. The pain of scalded flesh made Cade snarl and lash out at the car. He ripped the suspension out, muscles corded over his shoulders, and swung it like a hammer. The car rang with a flat, off-tune note as Cade battered it.
Marlow winced. The Impala might have survived the accident—eventually. He had a good mechanic—but not Cade’s temper tantrum.
Or this.
He dropped his aim a few inches and skipped a bullet off the road. It sparked as it chipped a divot out of the concrete. And that was it. Marlow clenched his jaw against the jitters that his body decided he needed and tried again. Two bullets into the road and another into the ticking engine. This time the spark caught and the fumes from spilled gas went up with a flash. It was a fast burn, thin and smokey, but the glossy ribbon of oil caught like a wick and flickered back to the breached tank.
The explosion knocked Marlow on his ass. His chest ached, and his lungs cramped as he tried to suck in a breath of hot, unsatisfying air. On top of the car, Cade burned. Tawny fur singed black against red skin as he threw his head back and screamed.
“Sorry,” Marlow rasped out, his voice raw and hoarse.
He grabbed the gun he’d dropped on the way down and picked himself up. Cade tore one of the tires from its moorings and threw it into the street with a roar. Strings of rubber stuck to the road like taffy as it bounced.
