My father lunged, teeth snapping, flipping Elliot on his back and going for the soft fur of his underbelly.
Piece of advice—don’t flip a badger.
They donotlike it.
Elliot snarled, claws and teeth going for and making contact with my father’s now-exposed face.
Even a wolf wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way before those claws drew a set of ragged lines across his canid features.
Good.
While he was distracted, I came in from the other side, barreling into him, my head ducked to hit his ribcage, teeth going for his shoulder. I missed, but I did knock him off balance, giving Elliot a chance to right himself and scrabble back, seeking shelter under one of the kitchen chairs.
I didn’t hear the others come in behind me.
Between us, Elliot and I might have stood a chance of taking down my father. We didn’t stand a chance against another five Community wolves.
The last time I’d gotten into a fight as a wolf—with Noah—I hadn’t been conscious enough of myselfasa wolf to feel the pain of what was happening to me. I’d ended up with scratches, bruises, and one bite mark, but I hadn’t been aware of them as it was happening.
I wasveryaware of what was happening to me now.
Claws cutting into my side. Teeth snapping at my tail, my achilles, my ears. I knew enough to protect my throat and belly, to keep twisting away to get my feet back under me, to bare my teeth and snap back when nips and bites hit my flanks and shoulders. I tried to see Elliot, to make sure he was still okay, but I couldn’t find him through the fangs and fur and gleaming eyes. I could still hear him, though, his rough, low badger-growl clear even among the snarls and barks of the wolves.
Someone bit my thigh, and I kicked back. So they bit the bottom of my leg andshook.
I felt something in my knee snap, a feeling ofwrongnessas something else twisted in a direction it shouldn’t go, and thena strange sort of Jello-like feeling… immediately followed by crippling pain. I know pain. Pain and I are, not buddies, exactly, but longstanding rivals. Frenemies, if you like.
This was completely different. Hot and acid and cold and sickening. Far,farworse than what I’d done to it slipping on wet roots.
Nausea surged, and I fought to not throw up.
I couldn’t afford to throw up.
I had to keep fighting, even though my leg didn’t work and I could barely breathe through the pain.
I had to keep fighting.
The soundof the gunshot was deafening to my sensitive wolf ears, and was followed by a series of pained yips and whines that told me that whoever had shot it had hit a target. Whether it was the one they intended or not, I didn’t know.
I honestly wasn’t even sure whether or not that target had been me.
I didn’t think I’d felt the impact of a bullet, but I’d never been shot before, so I couldn’t really say for sure.
“Okay, you batshit religious motherfuckers—” I didn’t need to recognize his voice to know it was Hart. “—every single one of you furry asshats is going to shift back into your squishy little human forms and lay the fuck on the floor with your hands on your heads, or so help me God, I will put bullets into the rest of you.”
I wondered if he had enough bullets for that.
And just how lethally he was prepared to use them.
If all six of the wolves—the five new wolves plus my father—turned on him, I didn’t know if he’d be able to fend them off if he didn’t shoot to kill.
The wolves had the same idea.
He got off two shots.
I tried to drag myself across the kitchen, to help in some way, but was stopped by teeth holding my non-mangled ankle.
Teeth that didn’t bite down.
