Cristian raised his brows. “Who is this Gil?”

“Friend of Kenzie’s,” Bowman answered, annoyance in his voice. “A cop.”

“He can help,” Kenzie said. Under Cristian’s suddenly interested stare, she looked to Bowman for confirmation, and he gave her a nod.

Kenzie pulled out her cell phone, hoping she could get a signal this far out. She lifted it to the sky, studying the icon that would show her how strong the signal was.

The next instant, the plastic shattered in her hand.

She spent one second staring at the remnants of her cell phone in shock before Bowman tackled her. They went down in a tangle of limbs, another bullet landing in the dirt where Kenzie had been standing.

“Sniper,” Bowman whispered, just as Kenzie’s stunned brain registered the fact. “Nightscope.”

Kenzie shivered violently. A man with a nightscope could sit under cover and shoot, spotting his target many yards away, and never be seen himself. It made her hackles rise, her wolf want to run, run, run.

Bowman tugged her to move, and the two of them melted silently into deeper shadow. They wouldn’t be able to find cover in darkness from a nightscope, but they might be able to move out of the hunter’s line of sight.

Cristian had vanished, he too trying to put distance between himself and the shooter.

Another bullet pinged two feet from Kenzie’s boot.

“Go.” Bowman’s whisper was a hint of sound, but Kenzie got the message. She ran. A bullet hit the ground at her heels, and she dove down a bank, finding a hollow of mud that hadn’t frozen.

The mud sucked at her, and Kenzie pulled herself out, losing one of her running shoes in the process.

To hell with that. Kenzie kept going, shedding clothes as she ran. She was leaving a trail, but it didn’t matter. She needed to change from hunted to hunter.

She heard Bowman’s growl behind her and then a great gray wolf bounded past her, Bowman back at full strength. Kenzie’s vision changed in the next seconds as her wolf took over.

She smelled the hunter now, a human who’d been sitting all night in the woods, his faint odor coating the others in the air. She scented the acrid smells of gunpowder and metal, heard the ping of bullets on trees and in the dirt.

Kenzie put her head down and ran. Her wolf could eat up miles before she tired, could run hard without losing breath. Her paws scrabbled for purchase on rocks as she followed Bowman up a hill.

He led her below a ridgeline so that their silhouettes would not be outlined against the sky. The moon was setting, but the sun would rise soon. Their only hope was to find a thick tumble of rocks, or brush so thick their forms would be blurred. Better still would be to take themselves completely elsewhere.

Bowman stopped below a rocky outcropping, his low growl barely discernible from the wind in the trees. He wanted to go up and over.

He sank to his haunches and began to crawl on his belly. Kenzie imitated him. Felines were better at slinking, but wolves could be pretty good at it too.

They slid over the rocks, grit and frozen weeds catching in Kenzie’s fur. She wanted to sneeze but didn’t dare.

Over the ridge, down the other side. The trees were thicker here, the darkness more complete. Bowman picked up into a run, flowing down the hill in perfect silence.

Where they were, Kenzie had no idea. She and Bowman had explored the wild lands around Shiftertown plenty, but a wolf could only patrol so much, even with trackers. Then again, Bowman might know exactly where they were—he often went off alone, leaving Kenzie to guard Shiftertown.

No more bullets whizzed around them, at least. Bowman slowed after a time and stopped, lifting his head to sniff the air. Kenzie also sniffed, catching unfamiliar scents, both woodsy and human.

Bowman shook himself. He sat down, his tongue lolling, but his ears and eyes alert.

Kenzie lifted her paw to look in annoyance at the thorn wedged deep between the pads. She closed her teeth around it, and found another muzzle against her own. Bowman nudged his way in, licking her paw to soothe it. The gesture was caring, even in the middle of their flight.

Kenzie nuzzled him, and Bowman made a noise low in his throat. They were alone together out here, the two of them against the night. The mate bond didn’t matter right now. Their knowledge of each other and mutual trust did.

The thorn dislodged from Kenzie’s paw. Kenzie licked Bowman’s ear in thanks, and he shook his head, as though embarrassed he’d been caught enjoying licky-cuddles.

He turned from Kenzie and trotted off into the woods. Kenzie came behind him, a few steps from his tail. If this were a more playful time, she might have lunged forward and grabbed his tail with her teeth, just to annoy him, but playfulness would have to wait.

The scent of human grew stronger. Bowman halted, Kenzie swerving to halt beside him. She looked past him and saw why he’d stopped.

They stood on the edge of a clearing. Within it was a small, narrow house—a mobile home that had been fixed on a permanent foundation. A wooden step led to the front door, which was flanked by two windows. A round barbecue with a dirty grill sat quietly beside the doorstep, and the scent of lighter fluid and burned meat lingered.

Kenzie caught another scent she couldn’t place. She had the feeling she should be able to recognize it, but either she was mistaken, or it was so covered with something else its identity eluded her.

Bowman’s nose wrinkled, and he inhaled deeply. He must have noticed it too.

As they debated in wolf language whether they should approach, the screen door of the house creaked open.