Page 60 of A Wolf’s Wound

Hannah

Ryder releases me, and I stumble backward. Shadow clutches my legs, and I watch in amazement as Ryder lunges at Brian.

“You bastard!” Ryder yells, punching Brian hard across the face.

Brian looks stunned as blood gushes out of his nose. Then he raises his hands to block Ryder’s punches and begins fighting back.

The two go at it, viciously punching and kicking at each other. Shadow and I back away as they battle, each man bleeding and enraged. Ryder seems to be getting in more hits, but the ones Brian lands sound more painful.

Brian gets in one hit that knocks Ryder to the ground. Brian jumps on top of Ryder and begins hitting his face and chest, but Ryder lets out a mighty yell and pushes Brian to the ground. They roll around the ground, leaving small trails of blood in their wake.

“Stop it!” I yell, even though I doubt they can hear me. “Both of you, stop! This is insane!”

As they continue pummeling each other, I have a chance to take a good look at Brian. I begin to see signs that his shift was rougher than he let on and might not have been as successful as Brian seems to think it was.

I notice that Brian doesn’t have any fur. If he did, it would be out and on full display by now. But his skin is bare.

His skin is also leathery and hard-looking. He has the skin of an ancient shifter, one beaten up by time and age and life. This isn’t the skin of a shifter in his prime, and I wonder if Brian knows that. If he realizes he’s so messed up.

Ryder’s fur, in contrast, is rich and thick. It’s dark-brown and covers his body in an even coat, exactly like it’s supposed to.

And I know that under the fur, Ryder’s skin is smooth and taut. It’s a little rough, sure, but nowhere near as leathery and bare as Brian’s. Ryder has the skin that a shifter his age is supposed to have.

Now that I’ve noticed Brian’s skin, I can’t stop looking from him to Ryder and assessing just how wrong Brian looks. He might have survived the shift, but it left his body looking twisted and old.

Brian opens his mouth to snap at Ryder. The bite doesn’t land, but it does give me a chance to see inside his mouth. What I see makes me shudder.

Brian has multiple rows of teeth. I’m not entirely sure how many, but from my quick glimpse I think I saw at least five.

Even in vet school, where we learned about all the different ways a shifter’s body could be malformed and all the different ailments that can affect them, we never saw a shifter with five rows of teeth. I’m not even sure how such a deformity can occur.

But it definitely did happen to Brian. I wince to think of how painful it must have been when those extra rows erupted through the roof of his mouth. And I wonder, again, how deluded Brian must be to still think he shifted successfully.

He’s spent enough time with Ryder to know that Ryder’s teeth are what a shifter’s should be. They’re white and even, pointed and straight. And, most importantly, Ryder only has one row of teeth.

Shadow is shivering in fear. I kneel down next to him. “We’re okay, Shadow,” I murmur.

Shadow chatters and points at Brian and Ryder. “I know.” I nod. “But trying to stop them could just get one of us hurt. It’s better to let them fight it out. They’ll get tired soon.”

My raccoon shakes his head in disagreement. And as I look at the two shifters beating the crap out of each other, I wonder if Shadow’s right to doubt my words. I can’t believe they’re still fighting each other, that either still has the strength to both cause and withstand so much pain.

But they must be running on adrenaline, I conclude. Nothing else explains their continued ability to battle like this. I glance at Shadow, who’s watching the fight intensely. “If they don’t stop soon, I’ll break it up,” I tell him.

Not that I know how I’d do that, actually. I’ve never broken up a fight before. I look around for something to throw on them, like water, but I can’t see anything.

Then my gaze lands on the vial that Brian dropped. He recapped it but there’s still some liquid left inside. That’s the scent that made Ryder lose control—the scent that Brian developed for the explicit purpose of harming humans.

There’s no way I’ll open that vial again, even to stop the fight. But I also don’t want Brian to remember it’s there. I begin to skirt around the fight toward the discarded vial. Once I grab it, I’ll turn my attention to breaking up the fight.

Shadow follows me cautiously. I glance at the shifters, suddenly afraid that Brian will see what I’m up to. But they’re both still intent on pummeling each other.

I’m a few feet away, so close I can practically feel the vial under my fingers. I’m deliberating where to put it—my jeans pocket doesn’t feel safe enough, but my jacket’s on the other side of the fight, and I don’t know where my purse is—when it happens.

Brian and Ryder are on their feet, stumbling around each other like tired boxers at the end of a ten-round match. “Give it up, Brian,” Ryder says. “It’s over.” He wipes at a cut above his eye that’s bleeding freely. My hands itch to sew it up, and I wish I had my bag.

“No way,” Brian pants, wincing as he tries to stand up straighter. From the way he’s holding his side, I’m guessing that he has at least one broken rib. “It’s not over, Ryder. Far from it.”

Ryder shakes his head, flinching with the motion. I’m sure his muscles are strained and in spasm right now. “It’s over,” Ryder says again.

“No, it’s not!” Brian roars, leaping at Ryder. Ryder ducks out of the way and Brian crashes to the ground.

“No!” I yell. “Ryder!”

Ryder looks at me and then follows my finger to see what I’m pointing at.

The vial is lying on its side. The top is still screwed on but the glass itself has cracked in half. The liquid slowly seeps out, darkening the ground beneath it.

“Hannah!” Ryder cries in agony. I can see the change coming over him again, just like before. Ryder’s eyes turn glassy as the scent seeps into his nose.

Brian watches with a twisted grin. “I told you it wasn’t over,” he taunts Ryder, who sinks to his knees. “Face it. I’ve won.”

Ryder clamps his hands over his nose and mouth again. He squeezes his eyes shut and I wonder what kind of internal battle he’s fighting. I hope he’ll have the strength to resist again.

But Ryder stands up and drops his hands. He turns to face me, and this time he doesn’t seem to notice the blood in his eyes or the ache in his muscles. “Hannah,” Ryder hisses, his voice low and hoarse. He moves toward me as I take one step back and then another, but he keeps approaching.

Finally, I’m backed up against a large tree with nowhere else to go. Shadow whimpers nearby but I don’t dare take my eyes off Ryder. I hear Brian laughing as Ryder lunges for me.