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I grabbed the wolf case off the desk, wincing as it zapped me, and thrust it into my jacket pocket, hoping the padding would keep its magic from repeatedly knocking me on my ass. I thought about taking some of the other artifacts, but then I would be the thief. All I wanted was— Damn, where had the medallion gone? Had it fallen off the desk when the floor shook?

On hands and knees, I padded around, wincing when a bloody man flew out a nearby window. Glass shattered, pelting me.

“He’s going to kill them all,” Radomir snapped. “Can’t you control him?”

“Maybe,” Abrams said.

I sure hoped not. The older men were still by the big safe. I wished Duncan would attackthem, but at the moment, the security guards were the bigger threat.

I peered under the desk, still patting around, broken glass biting into my hand. Wherewasthe medallion?

I tried to sense it with my werewolf instincts. It was… by the filing cabinet?

The kid. I’d forgotten about him. Whose idea had it been to let him come in here anyway?

He’d opened a window near the cabinet and looked like he was thinking of climbing out. His eyes were wide as he watched Duncan hurling people around—killingpeople.

The medallion dangled on its chain from the boy’s fingers. At his age, he might have taken it because he wanted its power, or he could have taken it because it was glowy and cool.

“Hey, kid,” I called softly, trying to be heard over the noise of battle but not wanting the masterminds in the other corner to notice me.

The boy looked at me with bright, curious eyes. If the battle scared him, he didn’t show it.

“Definitely a werewolf,” I muttered.

He held up the medallion as if to confirm.

“That’s my mom’s, okay? I need it back.”

He shook his head, and he opened the window farther. Hewasplanning to climb out.

“Wait, kid.” I moved toward him, debating if I could catch him before he scrambled over the sill. I lifted a stilling hand, as if he were a wild animal I might tame. “I’ll trade for it.” I patted my pockets. They weren’t as loaded as Duncan’s had been, but Ididhave my stash. “Chocolate with sea salt and cacao nibs.”

I didn’t mention the part where it wasdarkchocolate. Kids usually sneered at its lack of sweetness.

And, judging by his puzzled pause, the boy might not have encountered cacao nibs before.

Duncan, still in his bipedal form, roared again. The booming noise echoed off the walls. He sounded like an enraged lion, and the boy looked at him with wide eyes and reached for the windowsill.

“It’s kind of like a Nestle Crunch,” I blurted, waving the bar while silently apologizing to the makers of the fine chocolate for the comparison, especially since the only similarity was the crunch.

“Oh.” Face bright, the boy focused on me again. No, on the chocolate bar. He held his hand out.

I pointed firmly at the medallion. “Trade.”

Something flew between us, smacking wetly on the wall before sliding down it. My gorge rose. A severed hand.

That disturbed the kid less than the roaring werewolf. He skittered forward, holding out the medallion and pointing at the chocolate. We made the trade, and he shimmied out the window faster than I could consider if I should grab him and try to protect him.

More guns fired, bullets slamming into the wall above me. Ducking low, I stuffed the medallion into my pocket. The case kept spitting magical sparks at me through the fabric of the other one.

Duncan roared again, and a man screamed. Not wanting to see more flying body parts, I didn’t look. Even for a female werewolf, the carnage was enough to make me queasy.

A few seconds passed before I could safely reach the window and look out to make sure the kid hadn’t fallen and broken bones. A pile of clothing lay on the pavers down there. A small wolf with a narrow build loped to the wrought-iron gate with my chocolate bar in its mouth. It—he—glanced toward the window, briefly meeting my eyes, then slipped out between the bars. He barely fit, but he escaped. Good. At least someone had.

I pushed the window open enough that Duncan and I could slip out through it, then turned to call to him. In that form, would he understand me?

“She’s getting away,” Radomir barked.