Page 57 of The Enforcers: NOAH

Noah stood poised, inching up on Brock, ready to drag him out of harm’s way.

Brock reached out and began to pet the white wolf on the side of the neck. It stayed stiff and still, but it didn’t growl or move away.

“You’s a good woof,” Brock was saying. “A nice woof. But people hurt you and you’re mad about that. That’s okay. It’s okay to be mad. You can kill a rabbit when you’re mad and eat it all up. But not if it’s somebody’s pet, okay? Because that would make them sad. Mr. Noah Gray Woof says so.”

Mina heard Noah stifle a tiny snort of laughter.

“Fuck yeah, eat the bunnies,” Jasmin called out.

Mina gave her a glare, and she spread out her hands in apology.

The white wolf was gradually relaxing under Brock’s affection, his eyes closed. Brock put his arms around the wolf’s neck and leaned into him, his hand still stroking the straw-flecked fur.

Then Brock dropped his voice, and began whispering into the wolf’s ear.

They all stood waiting, the air feeling charged with…something. Like the energy before a storm, but not heavy or ominous.

Nobody moved.

Then Brock suddenly turned into a wolf cub, struggling out of the remains of Noah’s shirt.

Mina’s hand went to her mouth. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to that. Even if he was a freaking adorable wolf cub.

He nudged the white wolf with his baby nose, and gave a tiny yip. Then he changed back, sitting down on the shed floor and looking up at the big wolf looming above him. “See?” he said. “Like that.”

Tank made a choked sound, almost a sob.

There was a shudder and a crack of bones, and the wolf’s shape began to shimmer and change. But instead of continuing to human the way Brock had done, the wolf seemed stuck in mid-change, skin bulging and receding, bones breaking and re-breaking. It howled, a horrible sound that garbled and undulated as its skull kept changing shape.

Tank moaned, and Jasmin and one or two of the others began to growl. Not viciously, but more like they were anxious or in pain.

A few of them shimmered, as if they were about to shift. Behind Mina, Flynn growled, and Mina ran to Noah’s side.

Brock put his hand on the heaving, monstrous shape of the white wolf. Mina lurched forward, trying to go to him, but Noah pulled her back and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You might scare them,” he said.

“He’s going to hurt Brock,” she moaned.

Noah shook his head. “No, he’s—” Wonder laced his voice. “Holy fuck, I think he’s doing it,” he said.

With one mighty shudder and heave, the wolf turned into a man with long, filthy, platinum-blond hair. He lay on the floor, panting, pale and hollow-eyed like death warmed over.

Brock beamed and patted him on the shoulder. “See, Mr. Tristan, I knew you could do it.”

Mina heard a heavy thud behind her and turned to see Flynn sitting on the porch steps, head in his hands, relief in every muscle of his body.

“Tris!” Tank yelled, and lumbered over to his friend, thumping him on the back so hard Mina thought he’d break his bones again. Tristan gave a faint half-smile. Tank swept Brock up and hugged him.

Mina stared at Tristan, suddenly overcome by a feeling of vertigo. Fragments of dreams and nightmares swirled up in her mind. Tristan’s face, contorted in fear, his hair red with blood. Screams and howls and gunfire and the sounds of slaughter, and Justin screaming out in agony.

There was an explosion, blood and fur and fire, and then a ripping pain in her head. Everything started to go black, and Noah’s arms closed around her as she fell.