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I was seconds from crawling out of my skin. “Jesse, what was it?”

“Don’t know.” He snapped out of his frozen crouch and gathered my clothes. Then he grabbed my hand and dragged me back to the porch, to our weapons. “Get dressed.”

The sound of rustling grass crept over my back. The squishy slap of wet footfalls drummed in my ears. I spun, facing the wall of rain and inky gloom and the undeniable pound of feet.

Something was running straight for us, and running fast.

Whatever was hurtling toward Jesse and me wasn’t going to wait for me to dress. Spurred by a rush of adrenaline and panic, I darted for the carbine on the porch. Fingers clenched around the familiar weight of the stock, I aimed into the inky darkness.

Behind me, Jesse pounded a fist against the door of the animal clinic and shouted, “Roark!”

Without waiting, he nocked a black and red feathered arrow and stepped beside my barrel, slightly in front of me. His expression transformed into a fearless mask.

The door opened and snicked closed at my back. Roark appeared on my other side, sword raised, his musculature flexed and exposed, encased in a flimsy pair of workout shorts. “Aphids?”

I shook my head, too afraid to make a sound. Could it be Michio? That hope rose and died in my chest. There was no electric hum in my veins. No shouts to warn us he was advancing. Unless…unless the Michio I knew no longer existed, and in his place was…whatever this was.

The footsteps in the distance softened, closer now, maybe twenty yards, almost stalkery in their approach. A reverberating, animalistic growl rumbled from its shadowy location, penetrating my chest like a slow, rattling bass beat.

Roark lifted the sword higher. “What the feck?”

Flashes of lightning forked through the sky, spotlighting not one, but two pairs of eyes. Two four-legged bodies, low to the ground and wolf-like in their shape, but the closest one was three times the size of the one trailing it.

That was all I could make out, before an interval of lightning flashed again. Ten yards away, I glimpsed one creature. Huge powerful muscles illuminated with the landscape. A thick, wet mane encircled a feline face. Huge shoulders seesawed atop a sleek golden back as it glided gracefully through the rain.

I frantically scanned the field behind it, searching for the other animal. But I wasn’t fast enough. The sky darkened, cloaking everything in shadows.

Dread and amazement gripped my insides. Where had a fucking lion been hiding all this time? I fingered the trigger, flinching like a tiny, cornered rabbit, and at the same time loathing the idea of killing such a majestic beast.

“Hold your fire,” Jesse whispered, his elbows locked with the stretch of the bow. “We’ll do this quietly.”

No doubt it was starving, and now that it scented us, there was no chance it would leave without a meal. Better to kill it now than to be trapped in the building while it waited us out.

I felt sick. How many lions were left in the world? What if this was the last one I ever saw? “There’s two…things out there.”

The massive cat bellowed a spectacular roar and charged. My heart stopped, and Roark’s arm slammed against my chest, shoving me backward.

I stumbled, trying to remain upright, and caught a glimpse of movement behind the lion’s sprinting silhouette.

Jesse released the arrow, and the beast jerked sideways, spinning through the rain with a guttural howl. It recovered quickly, its shadow lurching into the air, in our direction, just as the smaller animal slammed into it.

Whatever had been chasing it—A hyena? A bobcat?—clung to the lion’s flank by its jowls, growling and shaking its head. The snarling figures tumbled to the ground in a blur of feral biting, claws, and snapping jaws.

What the fuck kind of animal would attack a lion? I trained the carbine on the wrestling bodies, unsure whether to shoot blindly in the dark or run into the building. Shit! I didn't want to kill a lion, and I definitely didn't want to shoot the other animal until I knew what it was. But if Jesse and Roark weren't running, neither was I.

Jesse didn’t waver, flinging arrow after arrow. He seemed to be hitting them, one or both. It was too damned dark to tell, but eventually, the thrashing slowed and the pained howls silenced.

Jesse glanced at Roark. “Get her inside.” Then he seated another arrow and cautiously stepped into the rain.

“Go down on yourself,” Roark huffed and followed Jesse into the dark, but not before giving me a once over.

I looked down and felt ridiculous, standing there nude and aiming an assault rifle I hadn’t had the balls to use. With my eyes on the black landscape, I snagged my clothes off the porch and dressed in record time.