could wound, it would take something with
far more power to kill them. He saw Aric drop into a crouch and palm a grenade as
his friends fell all around him, waging a battle they couldn’t win.
The creature who’d killed Jones shook Raven like a rag doll, released him, and ran
toward Aric, who let a grenade fly. It hit at the target’s feet and exploded, sending
the damned thing to hell. But more and more of them took its place.
Micah went down, his knife in hand, slitting one’s throat. But another jumped on him,
and his struggle was short-lived, his scream terrible. Jax fell next, then their CO,
Prescott, Nix, and so many others. All of them, one by one. Dead or dying.
As Aric unsheathed his knife to fight one, a beast rushed Zan. It hit him with the
force of a runaway truck, knocking him backward and sending him skidding along the
ground. He rolled to avoid the claws that swiped down at him, but they raked his side,
splitting him open through his camos. There was no time to acknowledge the fiery pain
spreading through his torso. He kept moving, dodging several blows.
Suddenly, he heard a cry in his head.
Help me, somebody! Oh, God—
Nearby, he saw Ryon fighting with a creature of his own and losing. Had the plea come
from him? Or was it a figment of Zan’s overwrought imagination? The beast plunged
its claws into Ryon’s stomach, and the man screamed, a horrible sound.
Aric dispatched it, but it might have been too late.
Zan scrambled backward, trying to put enough distance between him and the beast to
level his weapon and fire. But he hardly had the barrel lowered before the beast slammed
the gun out of his hands. Zan quickly drew his knife and went on the offensive, running
into the beast’s body rather than away.
With a powerful upward swing, he thrust the blade underneath the bone of the thing’s
sternum. Drove it at an angle, as deeply as possible. The beast’s screech was cut
off abruptly, and it went down.
Zan staggered and fell. How long he was sprawled and bleeding in the dirt, he didn’t
know. He only knew he had to get up. To use his gift on everyone he could save. His
conscience wouldn’t let him do any less.
He found Aric first. Called forth his healing gift and sent it into his friend. Repaired
torn arteries and shredded skin. “Come on, man. Don’t die. Stay with me.” Painstaking,
exhausting work, and when he was done, he wanted to sleep. But there were so many
left to go.
He got moving, crawling to Ryon. The man was crumpled on the ground, staring into
the sky. His chest was moving, but Zan could see the light fading from his eyes.
“Ryon, hang on,” Zan ordered, touching his shoulder. “I’m a Healer, and you’re going
to be okay.”
Disbelief was reflected in that solemn gaze, normally so full of humor and life. No
one ever believed at first. And then the few who finally did, like Zan’s dad, called
him a freak and an abomination. Told him that he was a minion of Satan.
If the bastard were here, he’d know what Satan really looked like.
Sending his warmth into Ryon, he spent long moments healing him as well. And then
the next fallen brother and the next. When at last he’d helped everyone he could,
his body simply quit.
Burned out, he slumped to the ground, convinced he’d never awaken.
And after what he’d seen today, that was fine by him.
• • •
“I’m so sorry,” Selene said, her heart breaking for Zan. For all of them.
How had they managed to get past such horror? It must have been the worst thing imaginable.
Lives ripped apart, families left in limbo.
“Did you ever go home?”
He nodded. “I did, but by the time I recovered and got home to Atlanta, I found out
my grandmother had died four months earlier. I had no family left, so I sold her house
and was trying to decide what to do with my life when General Jarrod Grant and a shifter
named Terry Noble showed up at my
far more power to kill them. He saw Aric drop into a crouch and palm a grenade as
his friends fell all around him, waging a battle they couldn’t win.
The creature who’d killed Jones shook Raven like a rag doll, released him, and ran
toward Aric, who let a grenade fly. It hit at the target’s feet and exploded, sending
the damned thing to hell. But more and more of them took its place.
Micah went down, his knife in hand, slitting one’s throat. But another jumped on him,
and his struggle was short-lived, his scream terrible. Jax fell next, then their CO,
Prescott, Nix, and so many others. All of them, one by one. Dead or dying.
As Aric unsheathed his knife to fight one, a beast rushed Zan. It hit him with the
force of a runaway truck, knocking him backward and sending him skidding along the
ground. He rolled to avoid the claws that swiped down at him, but they raked his side,
splitting him open through his camos. There was no time to acknowledge the fiery pain
spreading through his torso. He kept moving, dodging several blows.
Suddenly, he heard a cry in his head.
Help me, somebody! Oh, God—
Nearby, he saw Ryon fighting with a creature of his own and losing. Had the plea come
from him? Or was it a figment of Zan’s overwrought imagination? The beast plunged
its claws into Ryon’s stomach, and the man screamed, a horrible sound.
Aric dispatched it, but it might have been too late.
Zan scrambled backward, trying to put enough distance between him and the beast to
level his weapon and fire. But he hardly had the barrel lowered before the beast slammed
the gun out of his hands. Zan quickly drew his knife and went on the offensive, running
into the beast’s body rather than away.
With a powerful upward swing, he thrust the blade underneath the bone of the thing’s
sternum. Drove it at an angle, as deeply as possible. The beast’s screech was cut
off abruptly, and it went down.
Zan staggered and fell. How long he was sprawled and bleeding in the dirt, he didn’t
know. He only knew he had to get up. To use his gift on everyone he could save. His
conscience wouldn’t let him do any less.
He found Aric first. Called forth his healing gift and sent it into his friend. Repaired
torn arteries and shredded skin. “Come on, man. Don’t die. Stay with me.” Painstaking,
exhausting work, and when he was done, he wanted to sleep. But there were so many
left to go.
He got moving, crawling to Ryon. The man was crumpled on the ground, staring into
the sky. His chest was moving, but Zan could see the light fading from his eyes.
“Ryon, hang on,” Zan ordered, touching his shoulder. “I’m a Healer, and you’re going
to be okay.”
Disbelief was reflected in that solemn gaze, normally so full of humor and life. No
one ever believed at first. And then the few who finally did, like Zan’s dad, called
him a freak and an abomination. Told him that he was a minion of Satan.
If the bastard were here, he’d know what Satan really looked like.
Sending his warmth into Ryon, he spent long moments healing him as well. And then
the next fallen brother and the next. When at last he’d helped everyone he could,
his body simply quit.
Burned out, he slumped to the ground, convinced he’d never awaken.
And after what he’d seen today, that was fine by him.
• • •
“I’m so sorry,” Selene said, her heart breaking for Zan. For all of them.
How had they managed to get past such horror? It must have been the worst thing imaginable.
Lives ripped apart, families left in limbo.
“Did you ever go home?”
He nodded. “I did, but by the time I recovered and got home to Atlanta, I found out
my grandmother had died four months earlier. I had no family left, so I sold her house
and was trying to decide what to do with my life when General Jarrod Grant and a shifter
named Terry Noble showed up at my
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