Marna swallowed. She needed to tell him this. Too many humans had passed—at her hand—with unsaid words in their hearts. She didn’t want to go the same way. “I’ve been happy with you.”

A faint furrow appeared between his brows.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered. But sometimes it wasn’t about what you wanted. It was about what fate had planned.

“Then don’t.” His eyes seemed to glow as his beast pushed ever closer. “Stay with me, forever.”

She wanted to. Wished that she could. But Marna couldn’t make a promise that she wouldn’t be able to keep. Her hand traced the hard edge of his jaw. “I love you.” She’d never said the words to another.

“Tanner!” Cody was shouting again. So close out in the street. He’d find them at any moment.

Why did that thought make her shiver?

“You what?” Tanner asked. Then a wide smile broke his face. “Baby, you know I’m f**king insane for you.”

She started to smile.

The door flew open and banged against the wall with a thud. Marna’s head turned, and she saw Cody standing in the doorway. His eyes found hers. Narrowed when he saw Tanner holding her so close.

And why was Cody holding a gun?

“I was worried, brother,” Cody said, taking a step closer to them. “You didn’t answer when I called.”

Tanner inhaled, and in a flash, he had Marna behind him. “You’re not my brother.”

Laughter from Cody. Had laughter ever been so cold?

“You’re not soaked in his blood this time,” Tanner snapped, “so I can smell you.”

“I’m not your brother.” An evil grin. “And you’re not the white knight who gets to live happily-fucking-ever-after with the lost angel.”

A gunshot blasted. Marna screamed. Tanner flinched.

“You don’t get to live at all,” Cody told him. Then he fired again. But Tanner was already leaping forward. The bullet tore into him, and he knocked the gun from Cody’s hands.

Tanner’s claws went for the guy’s throat. “You don’t . . . steal my brother’s . . . f-face.”

Tanner’s body slumped. Marna rushed toward the men and grabbed Tanner just before he hit the floor. Tanner looked up at her, and his pupils were pinpricks in his eyes. She’d never seen his skin look so ashen. “Tanner?”

Blood poured from his chest, and smoke drifted up from the wounds. But . . . silver wouldn’t take her shifter out like this. He was too strong.

“I stole his life, so why not his face?” More laughter. Cold and grating.

Tanner was trying to claw at his wounds in order to get the bullets out.

“I learned from my mistakes,” Cody said. No, not Cody. Who the hell was it? “Those bullets had enough tranq in them to take out an elephant. Much less a mangy shifter like him. Tranq and a dark witch’s magic.”

Marna surged to her feet. Her hands clenched at her sides. She stared at the man who thought he’d take Tanner away from her—and she let her fire rip right out at him.

He lifted his hand and waved the flames away. “You have to do better than that, angel—”

She grabbed for the gun that had dropped on the floor—and then she pointed the weapon right back at the jerk. In a flash, she had the barrel pressing against his chest. “I’m just getting started.”

She pulled the trigger as he screamed. The bullet blasted through him even as blood splattered around her. He fell back. His body twitched on the floor, trembling, and Marna aimed down at him, then fired again.

He stopped twitching. And he stopped being Cody.

As she watched, his features slowly changed. In death, shifters always resumed their human forms. She didn’t know what the hell this guy was—shifter, demon, angel—but he was changing back.

His shoulders narrowed. His body thinned. Bones snapped in his face. His cheeks became leaner.

Not a face of evil. Not a monster. A man she knew.

His eyes were closed, his body not moving—and he was Tanner’s partner. Jonathan was the monster who’d been after them. Jonathan.

He was also the man she’d just killed.

The scent of flowers teased her nose. Grim satisfaction filled her. A death angel would be coming to collect his soul soon.

One less monster in the world.

She turned back around to find her shifter. Tanner was still on the floor. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was labored. She knelt next to him. His claws were buried in his chest. He’d been trying to take out the last bullet. Swallowing, she guided his hand and used his claws to dig deeper into his flesh. Then she reached inside the wound, biting her lip to stop the trembling, and she found the bullet with her own shaking fingertips.