Page 28 of Posing for the Artist Wolf

Fuck.

“Run,” I growled at Claire and shoved her to get her moving. Heavy footsteps thundered toward us. “Get out of here. Now.”

Her eyes widened. “But?—”

“Go!”

I didn’t wait to see if she obeyed. My shift ripped through me, bones breaking and muscles tearing as fur erupted across my skin.

In moments, my wolf was in control. A snarl rolled from my throat as I whirled to face the wolves bearing down on me. I recognized the faces from Bowen’s pack. From my childhood, my fellow Silver River wolves. Enforcers, all of them.

All of them dead shifters walking.

I lunged at the first enforcer, catching him mid-shift and burying my fangs in his throat. Hot blood splattered my muzzle. He stumbled back, eyes wide and bloody gasps wheezing from his torn-out throat.

His death was only a momentary distraction, though. Another enforcer slammed into me, knocking me aside. Sharp teeth tore into my flank, and I yowled in pain.

But Claire hadn’t run.

She stood her ground, wielding a broken chair leg like a club. Her face was a mask of determination as she swung at the wolf snapping at my side. The wood connected with a sickening crack, and the wolf stumbled back with a yelp.

Pride and terror warred within me. My brave, foolish mate.

More shouts echoed through the house. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How many were there? More than the five Claire estimated. Eight or nine, maybe?

We needed to get out the door. Into the night. Open air and open ground to hamper our pursuers.

I threw myself into the fray again, kicking and biting and clawing, distracting our attackers. As my paws crushed a pair of exposed windpipes, I stole a glance over my shoulder. Claire darted through the opening I created, still clutching the makeshift weapon.

Good. At least she had a chance.

My only regret was not telling her?—

Claire gasped, and the last trace of hope went out of the world.

I whirled, searching for Claire.

One of the bastards had her, his arm locked around her throat. Claire struggled, but she was no match for shifter strength. Fury and desperation clawed at my insides.

“Shift back, mutt,” he sneered. “Or I’ll snap her pretty little neck.”

I snarled, hackles raised. I wanted to ignore his words, wanted to rip his head from his body. Claire’s eyes met mine, wide with fear but still burning with defiance.

But it was too risky.

Slowly, I lowered myself to the ground. Defeat tasted bitter on my tongue.

Then Claire’s eyes widened, fixed on something behind me. A feral grin spread across her face.

The window exploded in a shower of glass.

Rafe burst through, all snarling fury and razor-sharp fangs. He slammed into Claire’s captor, sending them both tumbling across the floor. Claire scrambled away as the two of them grappled, their howls reverberating off the walls.

More crashes followed as the rest of the pack poured in. Elise and Orion, teeth bared and eyes blazing, crowded the doorway and cut off any escape route.

The room erupted into chaos. Snarls and yelps filled the air as fur and flesh collided. I kept Claire pressed against me, shielding her from the violence as best I could.

The fight was over in moments. Bodies littered the floor, most of them still. Only one remained conscious, pinned beneath Rafe’s massive paw.

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