Bowman suppressed a howl, then a groan as he moved from wolf form to human. His body protested, sinews not wanting to change and stretch. Pain lanced his broken leg but Bowman ended up human once more, panting against the side of the pickup, holding on to it and fighting not to pass out.

Cade had locked his truck, but it was an older model, with no fancy electronic locks to foil would-be thieves. He’d locked it against humans, anyway; Shifters could easily break in, but they never would. Shifters didn’t touch one another’s things. They respected territory—violating it was deadly dangerous and bone-headed stupid.

Bowman took a few more breaths, waiting until he could pull himself all the way up, then drew back his fist and punched out the window. He clenched his teeth against that pain, shaking blood from his hand. Then he brushed aside broken glass and flipped the latch to unlock the door.

Another breath as he yanked the door open and used it to lever his body into the cab. He landed on the seat, then clutched the steering wheel and rested his forehead on it, searing pain making him want to pass out again.

Bowman’s speculations had been right—when the splint had fallen away as he shifted, his leg had twisted in the setting, and it was broken again. But he’d have to live with it for now.

Cade had the truck’s keys, but that fact didn’t slow Bowman down. He had the steering column broken and the wires tapped together in a matter of seconds. The truck roared to life.

The beast spun around at the sudden sound, at last taking its attention from the roadhouse. Bowman turned on all the truck’s lights—headlights, fog lights, spotlights—every gimmicky piece Cade had bolted to the thing—put the truck in gear, and rammed his good foot to the gas pedal.

The truck’s tires spun on the dirt, then caught, and the truck leapt forward. The monster hesitated, red eyes staring, then it snarled and charged at Bowman. The Shifters who were still whole poured out of the bar after it.

The beast rushed the truck, and Bowman drove straight for it, never wavering.

He hit the creature at fifty miles an hour. The truck’s windshield shattered as the monster slammed across the hood and onto the cab, crushing the roof under its weight. Bowman dove down onto the seat, his foot coming off the gas, but the truck kept moving of its own momentum, the weight on the cab sending it into a tailspin.

The truck whirled until the bed met the side of the roadhouse. The beast was flung off, but the huge thing gained its feet, and a nightmare horror stared into the broken cab at Bowman.

Someone had engineered a monster, but it was not put together from parts. This thing was whole—born, not made—with the giant claws of a bear, the maw of a wolf, and the face of a lion. And it was very, very big.

The impact with the truck had cost the beast, though. Blood ran down its side, and one of its arms dangled uselessly. It pulled at the driver’s-side door of the broken cab with its good hand and managed to rip the door off. Then the wave of Shifters—wolves, big cats, and one huge, angry grizzly—were upon it.

The creature threw the pickup’s door at the crowd, then turned around and ran for the woods. Ran fast. The Shifters sprinted after it, but they stopped just inside the edge of the trees, sitting on haunches or standing with hackles raised, in both fear and frustration.

The beast had vanished. The stench of it faded on a cool breeze, and the sounds of a normal night started up again. A car drove by on the highway beyond, as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

Cade, now in human form, yanked open the still-intact passenger door. He was naked, smelling of sweat, fighting adrenaline, and fear. “Holy shit, Bowman.”

Kenzie came to the driver’s side, reaching in through the opening that used to be the door. She was naked too, the parking lot’s lights sending golden light over her full breasts and their dusky tips. She had a strong body, skin taut over muscle, and curves Bowman lost himself in whenever he touched her. Curves that hugged him now, swallowing him in softness.

A hell of a lot more appealing than Cade, he thought wryly. Kenzie stroked Bowman’s hair, her long-fingered hand moving over his pounding skull, soothing, cutting through pain.

Behind him, Cade slammed both fists on the top of the dented cab. “Son of a bitch. Do you know how much work it will take to fix this? If I even can fix it. Hell, if the frame is bent . . .”

“Cade,” Bowman said, his voice rasping. He leaned into Kenzie’s touch, the scent of her warm over the tang of the dying truck.

“What?” Cade snarled, leaning in to listen.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bowman said.

He dropped his head back and slipped into blissful, empty darkness. The last sensation he felt was Kenzie’s hand on his hair, and the softness of her body as she bent down to kiss him.

* * *

“Anyone want to take any guesses what that thing was?”

Bowman lay back against his pillows in his bed, one hand behind his head. He looked awful, his face blotchy, healing cuts all over his exposed skin, but his voice was plenty strong. His leg was in another splint, one for humans this time, sticking out over the covers.

Kenzie knew Bowman felt better. He’d snarled at her when she’d tried to make him eat the chicken soup she’d made, so she’d snarled back at him, plopped herself down on a chair, and ate it herself.

Cade and Jamie had come to report. Marcus, the other tracker, hadn’t, and Kenzie knew he’d spent the night with her cousin Bianca, whom he was dating—dating in Shifter fashion, that is. After a crazy night like last night, Kenzie didn’t blame the two of them for holing up together and not coming out for a while.