Page 22 of Wolves Always Bite

AsIhuddled inside the cab,Iturned off the engine.Ineeded to hear what was going on.Myears strained, searching for any little noise.Therewere shouts.Agrowl.Ascream.Gunfire.Thetruck rocked a little as if something had been thrown against it.

Waitinglike a damsel in distress sucked.

Well, screw that.

Ididn't need a prince or a werewolf to save me.Iwas the youngest of seven brothers.I'dsurvived my fair share of fights and torment.Noone was quite as good at torture as an older sibling.And, in my experience, the youngest siblings tended to turn out one of two ways—either super spoiled or super scrappy.Ilike to thinkIlanded on the scrappy side of things, althoughIsuspected my siblings might disagree.

Ipopped the glove compartment and the usual registration and insurance papers fell out.Somuch for finding something useful like a knife or a gun.Therest of the truck was empty except for the bits of broken glass, all of which were too small to do much.Therewasn’t much else in sight except my backpack.Okay.Mybackpack it was.Notan ideal weapon, but it'd have to do.

Withmy hand wrapped around one of the straps,Icrawled through the gap in the broken window.Painzinged through me with every little movement.Myhips hurt.Myshoulders hurt.Andthe back of my neck?Thatreally hurt.

Havinghad whiplash before—thanks to my older brotherBrian'slove of car races and desire to replicate theIndy500 during a suburban midnight race (spoiler alert:Everyonesurvived, but no one would say that it ended well)—Iknew that whateverIwas feeling right now would be so much worse tomorrow.ButIwould get through it, provided the assholes who were chasing us didn't kill me first.

Ihadn't wanted to believeAdrianandGagewere right aboutBabetteand her associates coming after me andAdrian.I'dbeen sure they were overreacting—Babette'sattack onAdrian,I'dhoped, had just been a momentary lapse of sanity—but it was hard to keep clinging to that idea now.

Thefamiliar weight of my book-laden backpack hung from my hand asIleaned around the cab of the truck to see what was happening.Ipicked outAdrian'swolf and a couple of other body-shaped masses, but honestly everything else was a blur.

Icouldn’t seeNelson, and hoped he was okay.Maybehe was one of the figures who were moving too fast for my eyes to register anything in detail.Watchingthem move made me think of my brotherTheo’sobsession with martial arts andBruceLee.Howmany times hadIheard the story about the guy moving too fast to be captured on camera?Thisfight was likeBruceLeeon fast forward.Itwas obvious, even to my non-magical human brain, the people fightingAdrianandNelsonweren't human either.Theycouldn't be.

Iducked down behind the truck again, pressed my back to the grill, and panted through my panic.Iwasn't stupid.Icouldn't do much against those people.ButIstill felt a million times better being out of the cab with my backpack in my hand.

Afaint sound of movement came from my right.Iacted on instinct.Iwheeled my arm and let the weight of my bag crash down hard on whoever was trying to sneak up on me.Thefigure staggered, before dropping.Itwisted my hand around the strap again, ready to wield my backpack once more if necessary.Istared at the body sprawled before me.

Theguy wasn’t moving.

Myparents would be horrified ifI’dkilled a man, butIhoped they’d understand that these were extenuating circumstances.Killor be killed.Orsomething like that.

Mystomach twisted.

Hestill wasn’t moving.Iapproached him slowly, expecting him to leap up and plunge his weird birdlike hand into my chest and rip out my heart.Iinched closer.Histalons didn't twitch, but his chest moved with the steady in and out of each breath.

Mylegs almost gave way under the weight of my relief.Ihadn’t killed him.ThankGodfor that!

Consideringhe was a murderous asshole—because why else would he and his cohorts have attacked us like this if they hadn’t planned on killing us—he appeared surprisingly serene in his sleep.

Aroar resounded through the air.

Ispun toward the fight again, but everything was suddenly surprisingly quiet in the aftermath of that roar.Thena massive, furry body leapt over the truck and landed at my feet.Ilifted my arm, ready to deploy my backpack again but stopped whenIrealized the creature with blood dripping from its teeth wasAdrian.Thewolf growled ominously at the unconscious birdman.Whenthe passed-out guy didn't react,Adriansank his teeth into the guy’s ankle and dragged him away from me and toward a pile of other unconscious people.

Nelsonappeared out of nothing a second later with zip ties in his hand.

“Youokay?”

AtNelson’squestion, the wolf’s attention snapped to me.

“Yeah…Ithink so,”Isaid.

“You’resure he didn’t hurt you?” the wolf—Adrian—asked as he bounded over to me and licked my hand.

“I’msure.”Iwanted to scratch behind his ears likeIwould a dog.Wasthat demeaning?

“Good.”Adrian’swolfish head bobbed up and down like he was nodding. “Youokay here for a minute?”

“Imight just sit…”Idropped to my ass, suddenly a little lightheaded.

Adrianstared at me.

“Go.I’mfine,”Ilied.