At least he’s not running away, Claire thought.
Her mother was clearly upset, but without transforming, Claire couldn’t tell what she was saying. Changing in front of Matthew seemed like too big a risk. He was already on edge, and that might just push him over. Before she could make a decision one way or the other, a ferocious growl rolled through the clearing and Zahlia ran in through the trees, favoring her injured front paw. Snarling, she leapt onto Marie’s back, her front claws raking Marie’s shoulder.
“Matthew, you have to hide!” Claire hissed.
Panicked and furious, she transformed so fast that she didn’t have time to pull off her clothes. Shreds of fabric fluttered to the ground and somewhere behind her, Matthew gasped. Claire crouched low, her belly brushing the debris.
Still on Marie’s back, Zahlia snapped at her face, her teeth just missing the other wolf’s eye. Still weak from her time in Dr. Engle’s lab, Claire’s mother stumbled, her snout scraping the dirt as her front leg gave way. Zahlia slid forward, thrown by the change of position, and Claire sprang.
The force of Claire’s impact knocked the black wolf off her mother, tossing her to the ground. Zahlia scrambled to get up but before she could regain her footing, Claire bit deep into the fur on the back of Zahlia’s neck and rolled as hard as she could.
Claire twisted her head, using the momentum of their bodies and the strength of her jaws to throw Zahlia away from Matthew and her mother. Zahlia hit a tree with a sickening thud before falling to the ground in a heap.
Claire staggered to her feet, ready for another assault, but Zahlia lay motionless on the forest floor. She was breathing—a high, whistling whine resonated in her throat—but she wasn’t getting up.
Something in the woods beyond Zahlia caught Claire’s eye. The scanty moonlight that trickled through the trees skittered across a grizzled pelt.
Beatrice was out there. Watching. Claire ducked her head, trying to see around the underbrush. Why wasn’t Beatrice coming out here, into the clearing?
Claire barked once, asking the Alpha to come help them, to come deal with Zahlia.
In the forest, there was nothing but silence. A very answering sort of silence. In that second, Claire realized that Beatrice wasn’t going to come to their rescue.
Claire stared at Zahlia. Part of her wanted to finish what she’d started—to kill the wolf who’d tried to kill her and her mother. To eliminate any threat to Matthew, or to the other humans she cared about. But she couldn’t do it. Every time her muscles twitched forward, Zahlia’s desperate whimpering stopped her.
Behind her, Claire heard Marie drag herself off the ground. Claire spun around to face her mother.
Are you okay?
Without answering, her mother stepped around Claire, edging closer to Zahlia. The black wolf’s eyes rolled and she began frantically licking her muzzle.
Claire’s mother stood over Zahlia’s prone body, her ears and tail straining forward.
Her neck has been broken. She leaned closer, briefly snuffling at Zahlia’s ear as she addressed the injured wolf. This is a mercy, and one you do not deserve.
Zahlia’s keening cut off as Marie’s strong jaws closed around her windpipe, choking her. In just a few moments, Zahlia’s ribs stopped moving. She began to transform, but before she could completely regain her human form, her eyes grew still and glassy.
It was over. Zahlia was dead.
Chapter Twenty-one
MARIE WOBBLED a few paces away from Zahlia’s naked body and collapsed onto the carpet of dead leaves.
Claire crept over to her mother.
Are you okay? She sniffed at the blood trickling out of her mother’s shoulder.
I … will be … eventually … her mother panted. Go find Matthew.
Claire whimpered. Oh, shit. Matthew.
She started to transform and realized a split second later that she’d ruined her clothes. Claire took a painful leap midchange and landed a few feet into the covering gloom of the forest.
“Matthew?” she called, trying to see into the clearing from her hiding place.
“Claire?” He stepped out from behind a massive oak tree. “Is it—is it dead? Are you okay?”
Claire felt her knees go watery. He wanted to know if she was okay. That had to be a good thing.
“Yes, she’s dead. And I’m mostly okay. Are you?”
“Scared out of my goddamn mind, honestly. Why are you hiding?”
“It’s … I don’t have any clothes with me.”
“Oh. Right.” Matthew unzipped his massive sweatshirt and laid it on the ground. “I won’t look,” he promised, spinning away from her.
Naked, Claire darted across the clearing and threw on the sweatshirt. It hung almost to her knees. “Okay,” she said.
Matthew turned around. “What about your mom? That is your mom, right?”