It's a Wolf Thing by Mina Carter & Chance Masters

Chapter One
    Thunk.
    Nine inches of lethally curved blade bit deep into the wooden wall of the room, split the knot in the plank, and stood there, vibrating from the force of the throw. Spencer Pena grunted in satisfaction and dropped his hand, but even a bull’s eye from a clear ten feet away did nothing to calm the storm within him.
    Stepping inside, he slammed the door so hard a few of the photos danced cockeyed on their mounts. One fell, glass shattering over the floor. He kicked the edge of his bed with a curt growl that would have melted steel. Like everything else in this fucking cursed reality, his bed fought back. The kick knocked one of the legs off, and the damn thing fell on his foot, which served to piss him off even more.
    With a snarl, he sank his claws into the skin of the mattress and flung it into the wall. It was a dingy piece of shit anyway. He’d have thrown the pillows as well if they hadn’t caught on his claws. With a roar of rage, he shredded them, filling the room with feathers. His tantrum halted when he caught sight of one of the fallen photos. The photo was and old dusty affair. In it, a younger version of himself stood next to another man, their arms around a young woman.
    Him, Cain, and Dale. Friends since they were kids.
    They were all smiling for the camera, the sort of smiles that said the wearer hadn’t a care in the world. Back then they hadn’t. Hadn’t had a fucking clue about the hell and shit storm coming for them. Hadn’t a clue what they’d end up doing after the end of the world. It was before the Descent. Before the Rapture. Before Armageddon. Before the world had plunged into full-on war for life. When his life went to shit, when everything went to shit.
    Now Cain was dead, killed defending what was left of civilization, and Dale had taken up the fight in her brother’s place—fought at his side when everything in him wanted to lock her up somewhere safe.
    If he tried that though, she’d hand him his balls on a plate.
    “Should have been me…”
    He snarled as he let loose another blade that sank into the base of the wall next to the broken frame. The problem, as usual, was Dale. Little Dale Foxx, one of his best friends and the sister of the other. She’d been the cutesy girl next door who’d worn bunches and braces, who he and Cain had teased until she’d put frogs in their beds, and who they’d protected from gossip in the locker rooms…until she’d caught wind of it and dealt with both them and those spreading rumors.
    The girl who’d grown up and was all woman now.
    The one he couldn’t have.
    But fuck did he want her.
    The image of her in that dress…those heels… The way she wore her hair. He wasn’t sure what bothered him most: that she was capable of looking that, well, damn stunning or the fact that she was going to give herself to some other guy. Who wasn’t him .
    Why was she even going on a date? They had a mission tomorrow, so tonight was no time to be out tripping the light fucking fantastic, was it? She shouldn’t be dating… until he asked her. Not that he had, or had planned to any time soon. He couldn’t do that. At least not until he could wrap his head around the fuck up life had become.
    He couldn’t be blamed that it’d taken him so long to come to terms with the world being so screwed up, could he? Could anyone? Up was down and down was hell anymore. Add to the mess, he was trying to protect his best friend’s baby sister from all manner of shit. The fact that he had feelings for her just ramped up the confusing shit storm in his brain. He’d never admit them, because that would make them real…and anything real had to be dealt with. There was no more maybe, imaginary, and make-believe in this world.
    His skin greyed out as the first indications of his change settled over him. Spence swore and shoved a hand through his hair as he tried to get himself under control. He couldn’t afford for his rage to get the better of him.