Chapter 8

Five against one was a bit much even for me, but I didn’t bother turning my star ball into a sword this time around. Not when goons like the ones before me measured the world in terms of greater and lesser forces. If I whipped a blade out of nowhere and vanquished them today, they’d just try again with weapons of their own tomorrow. On the other hand, if I beat up five bozos using nothing except my own body...well, maybe they’d leave my kid sister alone should she ever sneak out and walk down this street by herself in the future.

So I dipped beneath the closest male’s grasping arms and used his own momentum to push him toward the pavement. Goon two received a kick to the chest and three didn’t see the arm-twist coming. Which left only the tallest gang member standing...plus Pickle Breath, who was clambering back to his feet on my right-hand side.

The recent show of strength really should have been enough to dull their aggressions. After all, these teenagers were just kids barely older than my sister. So I gave them an opportunity to cut their losses without further bruising doled out by me.

“I recommend you walk away while you still can,” I told the tall guy who apparently believed in leading from the rear. Then, glancing at the three teens still catching their breath atop the pavement, I added, “Or crawl. Whichever works best for you.”

“You need to pay up if you want protection in our neighborhood,” Tall Guy countered, acting as if he had a full posse behind him rather than being the only member of his gang with all body parts still intact. “We’ve carried your ass long enough. Stay and pay, or go and...”

I couldn’t decide whether or not to roll my eyes as Tall Guy struggled to come up with a word that rhymed with “go.” Because I’d felt bad about beating up gang members who were really just confused teenagers. But if their leader was going to force the issue...well, I hadn’t enjoyed a good fight in over a week due to Ma Scrubbs’ requirement that I lose my most recent Arena match.

“Go and owe?” I suggested, taking a single step forward. Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t really blame Kira for beating up those girls earlier in the day. Not when my own feet were itching with the urge to leap and kick, not when my fingers tingled with the knowledge that battle was imminent....

“Let the water flow,” my dead mother’s voice warned me. And her words materializing in my brain shocked me just as much the second time around as they had the first.

Perhaps that’s why I merely stood there as a faint scent of musky fur washed over me. Since when did werewolves follow me around day after day? And did my maternal ghost’s sudden chattiness have anything to do with the presence of a shifter where one didn’t belong?

Unfortunately, Tall Guy took advantage of my surprise to get the jump on me. The teenager wasn’t willing to be laughed at in front of his comrades, and he was apparently willing to do something about that affront. I barely caught a flicker of movement before he was reaching into the back of his baggy trousers and pulling out a revolver that changed the odds in an instant.

The weapon reflected a beam of pure sunlight into my retinas before tilting so I stared down the dark barrel instead. “Die, ho,” the gang leader said grimly.

Then he pulled the trigger.

***

With a werewolf nearby, I couldn’t dodge out of the way of the oncoming bullet. But I could use my star ball to protect myself.

Apparently it was too much to ask to manipulate magic into a solid barrier while also bracing myself against the impact though. Because the cartridge hit dead center in my chest so hard it sent me sprawling, the scab on my hand scraping loose against the pavement as I attempted to catch myself before my skull hit the ground.

And even though I didn’t crack my head open, I did land with enough force that I ended up unable to do more than watch as the newcomer launched himself onto those poor goons with the full force of a pissed-off werewolf. My protector was outwardly human but inwardly bestial. And once I finally blinked tears out of my eyes sufficiently to make out my ally’s identity, I found myself unsurprised by the realization that I was far too familiar with this ravening beast.

A swordsman’s grace in an athlete’s body. Gunner. Of course. Who else would be tailing me so slyly that he could come to my supposed rescue at just the wrong moment...yet again?

The werewolf-in-human-clothing wasn’t even breathing heavily when he paused thirty seconds later to assess the damage. His opponents, on the other hand, were another matter entirely. Tall Guy whined like a nap-deprived toddler, his arm broken and his pistol kicked twenty yards away. Pickle Breath swore steadily, but even he kept his eyes down and his head bowed in instinctive submission to the beast within their midst.

And the other three kids? They’d run off the moment Gunner turned his attention elsewhere, proving they were smarter than their so-called boss.

“Mai is under my protection,” Gunner growled then, words barely human as he knelt atop Tall Guy’s prone figure with the teen’s unbroken arm twisted up behind his back. The werewolf’s muscles rippled with his attempt to maintain humanity, and his dark eyebrows lowered into a glowering frown. “You so much as look at her funny, and your future ends precipitously. Do you understand what I’m saying here?”

I wasn’t so sure Tall Guy knew the meaning of the word “precipitously,” but he certainly got the gist of the werewolf’s threat anyway. Because the boy cringed in on himself so severely he appeared shorter than I was. And his breathing became so sporadic he managed no more than a frantic nod as I took advantage of the lull to pry myself off the pavement and pad over to their side.

Not that I wanted to put myself between an angry alpha and his quarry. But while Gunner might have seemed like a nice-enough guy in the Arena, I didn’t trust any werewolf to protect the innocent. And Tall Guy—despite his chosen profession—was innocent enough.

So I twisted half of my star ball into the shape of a dagger, secreting the weapon beneath my sleeve where it would be accessible if Gunner turned overly aggressive once I moved to interrupt. Then I opened my mouth and accepted the werewolf’s annoying yet helpful support. “And my sister as well,” I murmured just loudly enough for the shifter to hear me without impinging upon Tall Guy’s attempts to smooth his gasps into words.

“And Mai’s sister,” Gunner added, driving his knee deeper into Tall Guy’s kidneys while twisting the poor kid’s arm up higher into the air. “The sister is mine also. Swear it.”

The scent of fur grew stronger as Gunner’s humanity continued slipping. And I’d already opened my mouth to let the kid off the hook when Tall Guy finally forced out a babbling plea for mercy. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” the teenager shrieked, writhing within the larger male’s grip.

At which point I placed one hand on Gunner’s shoulder to remind him that my former opponents were only human. If he broke them, they’d remain broke.

Alpha werewolves hate being contradicted, but Gunner’s response was more extreme than I’d anticipated. Because before I could so much as skitter sideways, his hand reached out to grab my wrist with the speed of a striking cobra. Then his nostrils flared as he took in the liquid pooling across my palm.

“Blood,” he noted. At which point his gaze landed on the hole in my sweatshirt and his eyes widened. “You’ve been shot.”