And then, prey.
The thought went through Claire like an electric charge. A painful shudder rolled over her. She could feel her fur, painful under the confines of her skin. Pushing its way out.
"Oh, shit," she whispered, frantically scanning the yard.
"What?" Matthew hissed.
"I—I—" The words caught in her throat. "Don't look at me! I'm going to change. Just—just leave me alone." She had to find a place to hide, but she didn't want him dragged in by the cops in the process.
"What, now?" A horrified look crossed his face.
She didn't answer him. She couldn't. Claire bolted behind a little barn-shaped storage shed at the far corner of the yard. She wasn't even close to being hidden, but it was the best she could do.
She tossed off her clothes, pressing herself close to the rough wood, willing herself to stay human. The fur crept out along her hands as they cramped themselves into paws. Her nails lengthened into claws.
And that's when she heard the footsteps.
"Claire?" Emily's voice rang out across the yard.
Oh, no. Oh please, no.
"She's—she's not here, Emily."
Claire could hear Matthew step toward Emily, heading her off.
"Is she hiding back there? Are you guys hiding back there?" Emily's words were half-slurred. Claire could tell from the direction of Emily's voice that she was looking at the shed, where Claire stood, caught between her two forms, struggling to get back into her human limbs.
If Emily saw her, there would be no way around the consequences. The pack would kill her best friend, and it would be all Claire's fault. Because she lost control.
That is not going to happen. I am not going to let that happen. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if she could jump the chain-link fence without anyone seeing her.
"No. Claire took off ahead of me. I'm—I'm meeting her, uh, somewhere."
God, he's a terrible liar. Claire licked at her whiskers. She'd never heard him trying to cover for her before, but Emily was bound to see through this. Even if she was drunk.
"Emily?" Amy's voice came from somewhere far off and to the right. "This way! Come on, run!"
"Oh! Sorry, Matthew. Gotta go. Um, good luck." The thud of Emily's footfalls receded into the distance. Claire lay panting behind the shed, the fading rush of adrenaline sending shivers through her limbs. She took a long, whistling breath in through her nose—gaining just enough control over herself to change back into her human form. She did it quickly, yanking on her clothes just as Matthew's head appeared around the corner.
"Damn, that was close." His eyes were wide, and there was a tremor in his voice.
"I know. She almost—" Claire's voice broke, and she sagged against the splintery wood. "You should have left. I told you to leave!"
Matthew's jaw tightened. "She would have seen me anyway. I didn't know what else to do—what else to say." His voice shook. "But she didn't see. You're . . . you again, and she's off hiding in the bushes with Amy."
Claire just shook her head. Emily had been feet—feet— away from finding out exactly what Claire was. And Claire would never be able to live with herself if the pack came after Emily because of something Claire did—because she was so stressed that she hadn't been able to stop herself from transforming.
It was never going to happen again. She would do whatever it took to make sure that Emily stayed safe, even if it meant keeping Emily at arm's length. Just the thought of it made Claire lonely, but it was better than the alternative.
Matthew interrupted her wandering thoughts. "I know it's been a rough few minutes, but we are sort of running from the cops here, remember?"
"Right. Sorry." She could see his car from here. It was parked just on the other side of the bland, two-story house in front of them. They crossed the yard, the crunch of fallen leaves loud under their feet. Matthew hit the button to unlock his car, and they both slid inside.
It was over. They'd made it. Matthew drove them out of the neighborhood, taking a convoluted way around Yolanda's block to avoid the cops.
Shaking from the adrenaline, Claire leaned against the window. A stray wolf hair shimmered on the leg of her jeans, and Claire plucked it off, opening the window just a crack and dropping it into the cold October air. Getting rid of the evidence.
Matthew drove her home. The tension in the car was so thick that Claire could barely breathe. When she got home, Claire hurried upstairs before her mother could see her. She didn't want to explain why she was flushed, and if her mother knew—smelled—that something Claire had done posed a danger to the pack, there would be hell to pay. That was the only time Claire's human side really mattered to Marie—when it endangered the precious, protected bubble of her wolf life. And Claire was never going to let that happen.