Page 83

"POLICE! NOBODY MOVE! HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"

Nobody put their hands up. Every wolf in the gym turned toward the doors. Fangs barely concealed, claws on the way out of fingers.

Casanova and Romeo stopped sparring. Valentino came out of his office. Men who'd been hitting bags, lifting weights, wrapping their hands, or bullshitting along the walls went predatory still, ready.

Then, almost as one, they shifted their weight. Feet spread. Knees bent. Hands came up. Not surrender. Fighting stance.

"EVERYBODY DOWN!"

I was moving before the second command finished. Adrenaline punched through my bloodstream, sharpening all my senses. Gun oil hit my nose. Hot metal. Sweat. The sour bite of human fear pouring off the cops beneath their body armor.

Boots grinding against concrete. The click of safeties coming off. The rasp of nervous breaths. Hearts pounding too fast. One officer swallowed hard enough for me to hear it from twenty feet away.

The sounds behind me worried me more. Growls. Low. Deep. Multiplying.

A room full of cornered wolves. A bunch of terrified humans with their fingers on triggers.

One twitch. One gunshot. One wolf losing control. Then we'd be standing in a room full of bodies. Mostly human, but a few wolf casualties might be among them. I might be pissed at my brother, but I'd die before letting a bullet take him. I know all the wolves in here felt the same about their Lupetto bosses.

I counted automatically. Six cops through the main entrance. Four from the rear. Three spreading toward the ring. Two holding the exit. I could hear more boots outside. Fifteen visible. Maybe twenty total.

I catalogued weapons. Rifles closest to the door. Handguns farther in. Spacing too tight in places. Bad sight lines. Too many bodies behind their targets. If shooting started, they'd hit each other almost as quickly as they hit us.

The closest officer had his rifle aimed directly at Casanova's chest. Bad fucking choice. Casanova's eyes flashed gold.

His weight shifted onto the balls of his feet. Shoulders dropped. Fingers curled, not quite claws yet, but close. I knew that posture. I'd seen him take down men twice his size from that exact position.

Romeo stepped beside his twin. Not in front of him. Which meant if Casanova attacked, Romeo was going with him.

The officer closest to them was twelve feet away. Male. Mid-thirties. Approximately two hundred pounds. His vest protected his chest. His throat wasn't protected. Neither was the femoral artery.

Twelve feet wasn't far. I could reach him before he fired twice. Maybe before he fired once.

"Stand down," growled Valentino.

Every wolf in the vicinity obeyed the command immediately. Except two. Me and Vidar still had our teeth bared.

"Stand the fuck down, Blackwood." Valentino's voice wasn't calm. It was barely contained rage.

At us?

What the fuck? We were in the trenches with him? About to commit felonies with our claws alongside his men for something we sure as hell didn't do.

I looked over at the young Alpha. He wasn't looking at me. His eyes were wide and trained on the cops ahead of us. No, not cops. One cop.

His face had changed. Not anger. Not calculation. Something I'd never seen on Valentino Lupetto before: shock.

I followed his gaze as a woman stepped through the officers.

Dark hair pulled back. Body armor over black clothing. A badge clipped high on her chest. Beneath the gun oil, sweat, and fear clogging the room, I caught a blast of cheap floral perfume that reminded me of girls in high school trying to smell expensive.

She removed her helmet, and Valentino went pale.

A growl rolled through the room. I turned to see Romeo taking a menacing step towards the female cop. His attention was locked on the woman. His lips peeled back from his teeth, eyes burning gold. This wasn't a wolf reacting to cops invading its territory. He knew her.

The woman knew him too. Her stance changed the second he moved, feet shifting, weapon rising a fraction higher.

"Romeo!" Valentino's voice cracked through the room. "Stand. Down."