“Well, that answers my question,” said Taryn. “You and Dominic make sure everyone gets out,” she told Mila.
Almost as one, Alex, Taryn, Trey, Dante, and most of the escaped patrons shifted. Their animals didn’t hesitate to attack the humans who came rushing around the corner, armed to the teeth. Machine guns peppered bullets everywhere. Grenades were slung. The snipers who were still alive picked off the shifters that tried to run or retaliate.
Bodies of shifters toppled to the ground—some changed into their human forms as they did so. That didn’t stop the others from charging. There were so many animal noises it sounded like a zoo gone wild. Roars, shrieks, growls, caws, snarls.
A blast of fire split the air, and Mila hissed. A fucking flamethrower. The humans hadn’t just brought guns. They had spiked bats, machetes, maces, and belts that were wrapped in barbed wire. Oh, she itched to kick the humans’ goddamn asses.
Sirens wailed in the distance, and Mila’s head snapped up. “Finally.” The sirens came closer and closer and closer. Tires screeched to a stop in the lot. That was when she heard more gunfire followed by distant voices crying out in pain.
Ally growled. “Fuck, the snipers are shooting the firefighters!” Her eyes snapped to the hatch as Derren and Eli climbed out. “Where the fuck have you been?” she yelled at her mate.
Coughing, Derren shut the hatch. “That’s everyone out.”
“Good, because being a spectator sucks,” said Mila as she and Dominic stripped, intending to join the fight. The extremists had begun to back up, so a great deal of the battle was now taking place in the alley.
Eli froze. “What’s that sound?”
Mila smiled at the familiar roar-growl. “That, my friend, is the sound of a pissed-off wolverine shifter.” Her mother. “And she no doubt has my pride with her.” They’d attack the extremists from another angle, effectively boxing the humans in. Some of the pride would also hopefully help put the fire out.
Clasping her nape, Dominic kissed her. “Be careful.”
“Same to you,” said Mila. Then they shifted.
The cat leaped over fallen bodies and sidestepped puddles of blood as she charged into battle. Ears flat, her snarling mate rushed at a human who was swinging a mace. Scrambling up the back of her wolf, the cat lunged at the human. She wrapped her body around his face and sank her teeth and claws into his scalp. Scratched at his flesh. Raked an eyeball. Enjoyed his cries of pain.
The wolf took advantage and barreled into the human. Knocked him onto his back and sliced open his stomach, exposing the man’s guts. The cat approved of the bloodthirsty move.
Gunfire cracked the air, and a blazing heat singed the side of her leg. The cat hissed, furious. She went to retaliate, but a bear reared up on its hind legs and slammed its paw at the offending human’s head. There was a distinct crack.
Satisfied, the cat turned back to her mate. Adrenaline pumping through them, the wolf and the cat worked as a team as they took down one human after another. They bit, slashed, clawed, and mauled. Ducked, dodged, and weaved away from what came at them.
Soon, the whooshing of the fire hoses joined the animal sounds and human cries. Her pride had to be putting out the fire.
Around them, other shifters attacked the humans—disemboweling, ripping out throats, tearing off limbs, crushing bones, severing spinal cords, clamping jaws around throats to suffocate opponents.
The extremists didn’t surrender. Brutal and cunning, they lashed out with their weapons. Even when they abandoned their guns, they kept fighting, sending many shifters tumbling to the ground, defeated and near dead.
The cat’s thick hide and fur acted as good protection, but not good enough. She was soon covered in slices, welts, and other injuries. Blood matted her fur. She was tiring. Slowing from loss of blood. Every part of her body seemed to hurt. But she fought on.
Just as she and her mate finished off another human, the cat turned to seek a new target. A wooden bat crashed into her side, its spikes stabbed into her flank, and she was knocked sideways. Red-hot pain assailed her, and the breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Shelving the burn, she righted herself, winded.
The spiked bat hit her again, tearing into her neck. She hissed at the blinding pain. Swayed but didn’t fall.
The wolf pitched forward and clamped his jaws around the human’s leg. The man lifted his bat, and the feline’s heart jolted.