he was ready, using incredible speed and power to nearly fold his body in half as he spun around to face the other leopard and drive forward, coming under the head straight at the neck. He caught the cat in his jaws, teeth biting deep.
The dark leopard fought valiantly, ripping at him with his front claws, but Dymka was big and strong. He shook his opponent hard, throwing him off his feet and then, taking a firmer grip on the throat, held him pinned to the ground. They stared at each other, eye to eye. Mitya had hoped he could spare this one to interrogate later, but he could see the leopard was not going to submit. The hatred and resolution were there, regarding Dymka, even knowing that submission might save his life.
Dymka held him there while he struggled and then grew still, until the life faded from his eyes, leaving a magnificent leopard dead. Mitya cursed as Dymka stepped back from the body, roaring his victory. He paced away, slapping dirt and grass with his paw and then raced back to the leopard and swiped at him. It took several minutes for Mitya to get his leopard to control his nature and look toward the battle.
The sound of gunfire had faded. He saw Fyodor and Timur standing beside the two cars. There were bodies on the ground. Fyodor signaled to him, pointing toward the hillside across from them. Dymka turned his head and then, leaving the others to clean up and hopefully take any live prisoners back to the house, he sprinted up the hill, looking for the lone escapee Fyodor had indicated had come this way.
It only took a few minutes before he caught the leopard’s stench. He pulled his lips back in a silent snarl and wrinkled his nose in a warning display. The leopard had made it into a grove of trees on Bannaconni’s extensive property. Dymka followed him unerringly, catching a glimpse of his passing, a partial track mark, bruised leaves on a bush and the unmistakable stench of his spray proclaiming the territory belonged to him.
Without warning, a bullet skimmed Dymka’s shoulder, so that a bright hot flame of pain burst through him. The big leopard dodged and rolled, coming to his feet on the other side of the bush his opponent had marked. He crawled back toward the trees and deeper cover on his belly, careful not to move any branches and give his position away. That didn’t stop the man from firing his weapon over and over into the brush where Dymka had disappeared.
The shifter had had the good sense to take a pack with him, something Mitya hadn’t done. He’d been so eager to fight, to challenge other leopards and give his cat a workout when he was so moody and dangerous. He also hoped to be able to interrogate one of the men trying to kill him. Kill him? Or Ania?
They had found her grandfather’s journal. He should have read all the passages leading up to his death, maybe that would have given him a clue as to who was behind this plot to start a war.
Dymka continued his forward momentum. The shooter had moved after he’d fired the first shot and then followed that with a volley, but Dymka knew all about that ploy. The cat had sprayed his offending odor everywhere, hoping Dymka wouldn’t be able to track him. Hoping he’d be intimidated by the leopard claiming the territory as his own. Dymka raged to get at the enemy, but he was an experienced fighter and he didn’t make the mistake of just rushing after the man with the gun. Mitya was certain their enemy had deliberately used the weapon in the hopes that Dymka would come after him.
Leopards were notorious for turning back on their enemies and hunting them. Dymka was no exception, but he’d also been learning lessons on fighting technique since he was a very small cub and Mitya’s father had his lieutenants turn their leopards on him. Sometimes Lazar’s leopard joined in the frenzy of ripping the young cub apart. He’d learned patience in a very hard world.
Dymka circled around to get behind the man. He had him spotted now. The man was up in a tree, naked, ready to shift when needed, but he was swiveling from one side to the other, trying to spot his enemy. Dymka inched forward, using the freeze-frame stalk of his kind. He couldn’t rush the man as