prevented her from launching into a full charge.
Tiffany moved with the grace of a dancer, arching, twisting, skipping back from swiping claws. She wanted to be turned—but not crippled in the process.
For her part, Vera didn’t take any care as to how sloppy and uncoordinated her attacks were until after the first burning swipe she received on the inside of one massive, hairy arm. She yelped, dropping onto all fours and backing up, tail between her legs.
Tiffany circled around, balanced on her toes, ready to spring away if she needed to. The other girls were only just struggling to their feet when Vera sprang with catlike agility, diving in low so talon-tipped fingers could close on the hunter’s ankle, yanking her off her feet. Tiffany was unable to compensate and lost her balance, crashing onto her back and sending one of the daggers clattering across the floor to slide under a couch, far out of reach.
Before any of the other werewives could stop her, Vera was on top of Tiffany’s sprawled form, one paw on her shoulder to keep her down and massive jaws diving for her throat.
Tiffany didn’t hesitate to bury the remaining dagger in Vera’s side, the sharp metal sinking between her ribs with the ease of a hot knife through butter. Vera’s head snapped back and she howled in pain, her talons ripping through Tiffany’s silk blouse, and then her skin as she convulsed and jerked away. The knife came free as she pulled back, and Tiffany dropped it in favor of scooting back across the slick floor as far from Vera as possible and grabbing at her bleeding shoulder, crying out in pain.
By then Cassandra and Alexis had regained their feet. Heather, the weakest of the three, was still clutching at the back of her neck and moaning on the floor. Cassandra was a little unsteady, but she put herself between Vera and Tiffany, her jaw tight and a muscle ticking in her cheek as she placed her fists on her hips. She glared down at Vera, who was whimpering and rolling on the floor, writhing against the silver burn now racing through her bloodstream. It wasn’t enough to kill her—the blade hadn’t struck anything vital or damaged any internal organs—but she’d be in a great deal of pain for the next few days, and left with a permanent scar.
Assuming Cassandra let her live, that is.
“I hope you’re happy,” Cassandra said, a scowl twisting her features as she kicked Vera’s bleeding side, drawing another choked yowl of pain out of her. “You’ve just signed our death warrants, you moon-crazed, silver-tainted, imbecilic whore!”
Heather’s head jerked up, her eyes widening. She gasped when she spotted all of the blood now pasting Tiffany’s shirt to her chest, then dragged herself to her feet using a nearby chaise as leverage. “Cassie—”
“If I told you once—”
“Cassie!”
Cassandra turned a withering glare on Heather, and she shrank back from the heat in her gaze, voice a low whisper.
“I filed the contract.”
Everyone—Alexis, Tiffany, Cassandra, and Vera—turned their attention on Heather, who wrapped her arms around her stomach and looked away so she wouldn’t have to meet the incredulity and anger in their gazes.
“I filed it this morning. Before the meeting. I knew none of you would ever do it, and I didn’t agree with Gabriel saying no.”
Tiffany gave voice to a raspy, triumphant laugh, sitting up and tossing her hair back over her shoulder, though some of the longer strands were now red with blood and clung to her chest and shirt. Cassandra sucked in a breath through her teeth, her gaze torn between Tiffany and Heather, who was busy hugging herself and trying to look as small as possible. Alexis simply ran her palm over her face, though she was admittedly relieved that it now meant there was no liability connected to herself as far as this unbelievable fuck up on Vera’s part was concerned.
Tiffany used her free hand to grab a nearby lamp pole to lever herself to her feet. The wounds weren’t too deep, but they stung when she moved around, dragging a wince out of her. Cassandra tensed, but made no move to help, not wanting to risk being struck by another silver weapon she might have hidden in her clothes.
“Well,” Alexis ventured, hoping to defuse some of the tensions between the women now that the worst seemed to be over, “I suppose that means you’re really going to be one of us, now. Congratulations.”
Tiffany’s sunny smile was at odds