Page 32 of Flare (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters #17)

Confrontation

Emily was halfway through her breakfast when the back door disappeared with a deafening crack. The entire doorframe tore free from the wall in a spray of splinters.

She jolted to her feet, heart hammering, as a monstrous figure stepped through the wreckage.

Andrew.

He stood in the doorway, half-shifted into the figure that had haunted her nightmares since fleeing Spokane. Golden-brown fur sprouted in uneven patches across his distorted body, and his face was a disturbing blend of human and ursine features.

His shoulders were hunched, his fingers curled into clawed fists, and his snarl was all sharp, gleaming teeth. His eyes glowed bright gold as they glared at her, and his rage filled the room like smoke, toxic and suffocating.

“ You didn ’ t think you could run from me forever, did you?” he growled.

She shoved her chair back and jumped to her feet. But before she could make a run for it, he lunged.

His furry, misshapen hand clamped around her forearm. Long, curved black claws dug into her skin, drawing blood. “ You ’ re mine,” Andrew snarled, pulling her towards him.

But Emily didn ’ t freeze—not this time.

“ Not anymore.” Her voice shook with mingled terror and fury.

With a sharp twist, she yanked her wrist toward the gap between Andrew ’ s thumb and fingers and wrenched free of his grip. Pain sliced across her arm as his claws raked her.

She didn ’ t hesitate. Her fingers flew to the panic button clipped to her jeans pocket. A soft chime, barely audible over her thundering heartbeat, confirmed the signal had gone out.

He reached for her again, but Emily kicked hard, aiming low, just like Ward taught her. The heel of her sock-clad foot slammed into his knee, right below the kneecap.

It hurt like hell, but she heard a satisfying pop as his joint buckled. Andrew staggered and collapsed with a deafening roar of pain.

She bolted from the breakfast nook and sprinted for the kitchen, where her new gun sat on the counter, next to her purse.

The living room—and front door—lay on the other side of the kitchen, through an arched opening.

Behind her, Andrew heaved himself to his feet and gave chase. He was limping badly but still moving way too fast.

Emily didn ’ t slow down as she ran through the kitchen. She snatched up the gun and kept going. Just a few more feet…

Something huge and heavy passed her in a blur, shoving her aside. And then Andrew was standing in front of her, blocking the way to the living room… and escape.

“ Emily,” he rasped from his hideous, half-transformed muzzle. The words were distorted by his misshapen mouth. “ How could you betray me like that? With him?”

Her hands trembled as she raised the gun and aimed it at Andrew, and her breath came in ragged gasps—but she had a chance now.

In the distance, she heard a siren. Help was on the way. She just needed to protect herself for another few minutes.

“ Get out of here,” she quavered, desperately bracing her quivering elbows against her sides. “ Or I ’ ll shoot you.”

“ You wouldn ’ t dare,” he snarled.

She didn ’ t think. Just squeezed the trigger like she ’ d practiced repeatedly yesterday and Monday.

Her first shot missed him and shattered the living room window.

But it made Andrew freeze. He stared at her as if she ’ d suddenly grown an extra head. “ Emmie, what are you doing?” He sounded weirdly bewildered.

Then she heard a vehicle screeching to a halt on the street outside. “ EMILY!”

Ward! Relief rushed through her like a tsunami.

“ Ward, I ’ m in the kitchen!” she shouted, keeping her weapon leveled at Andrew.

Andrew roared, a bestial sound that made her ears ring. “ You whore! I gave you everything! ” he growled. “ I ’ m your mate! You belong to me!”

Then he lunged forward, his long, curved talons reaching for her.

Cursing her shaking hands, she aimed and squeezed the trigger again. The gun jumped in her hands, and a thick line of blood welled up across his upper arm.

He stopped and clapped one paw over the wound. “ Bitch, I ’ ll make you pay for that!”

A heavy tread sounded on the front porch an instant before the front door flew open.

Andrew whirled around, just in time to meet a wall of snarling, furious grizzly.

Ward ’ s bear was massive, with thick dark-brown fur, blazing amber eyes, and massive paws tipped with curved black claws as long as her fingers.

The two bear shifters slammed into each other, claws slashing, fangs snapping.

Ward fought with disciplined precision, his movements economical and purposeful. Andrew attacked with erratic savagery, driven by rage rather than skill.

Emily ’ s finger tightened on the trigger, but she couldn ’ t risk shooting with the two massive forms tangled together. What if she shot Ward by mistake?

The living room coffee table splintered beneath their weight. A lamp crashed to the floor. The sofa flipped backward as Ward drove Andrew into it, his massive paws pinning Andrew ’ s shoulders momentarily.

For one heartbeat, Emily dared to hope.

Then Andrew twisted suddenly, his horribly deformed, clawed feet coming up to rake across Ward ’ s exposed underbelly. Emily heard the wet, terrible sound of flesh tearing open. Saw the shock in Ward ’ s amber eyes. Watched in horror as dark blood immediately soaked his fur.

“ No!” The scream tore from her throat as Ward ’ s enormous body wobbled.

Andrew ’ s bear-mouth formed a grotesque approximation of a smile, bloody fangs gleaming as another slash of his claws opened a second wound across Ward ’ s chest. Ward roared in pain but stayed on his feet, backing away to create distance.

Emily could see the wounds were bad—catastrophically bad. The gashes were so deep she caught glimpses of things that should remain hidden inside a body.

Ward ’ s movements grew visibly weaker with each passing second, blood spattering the hardwood floor in rhythmic droplets that matched his labored breathing.

Andrew struck again, his claws catching Ward across the muzzle.

Emily gasped in horror as Ward went down hard, his massive furry body crashing onto the remains of his coffee table. He tried to rise, failed, then collapsed onto his side, amber eyes dulling with pain.

Emily ’ s heart stopped. She could still see the shallow rise and fall of his chest, but each breath seemed to force more blood from his wounds.

Andrew turned toward her, his grotesque half-shifted face registering triumph. Blood—Ward ’ s blood—matted the fur of his extended claws.

“ Now,” he growled, the word mangled by his misshapen jaw, “ you ’ re coming home with me, Emily.”

Rage crowded out her terror.

This monster had hurt Ward, and might even have killed him. The man who had shown her nothing but kindness, who had protected her, sheltered her, and who had made her laugh and feel safe.

The man who looked at her like she was a person precious to him, not just a possession.

The realization burst over her like the sun emerging from behind a storm cloud. I love Ward.

“ No,” Emily said, raising the gun. “ I don ’ t belong to you.”

“ You ’ re mine . You ’ ll always be mine. My mate.” Still limping and bloodied now from Ward ’ s claws, Andrew advanced toward her.

His eyes fixed on her with predatory focus.

Emily squeezed the trigger.

Again, nerves sent her next shot wide, punching a hole in the living room wall behind Andrew. But then she hit him in the shoulder, eliciting a roar of pain that shook the windows. The two shots after that struck him squarely in the chest in rapid succession.

Blood bloomed across Andrew ’ s patchy fur, but he kept coming as if nothing had happened.

Oh God, he ’ s the freaking Terminator . Emily shot again, and missed completely as the spurt of panic destroyed her aim..

Three feet now. His claws extended toward her. His misshapen jaws opened wide enough to engulf her face.

The gun clicked empty. Emily backed into the kitchen, her empty weapon still pointed uselessly at the advancing monster.

Her gaze darted toward the breakfast nook and the open hole where the back door had been.

As if reading her thoughts, Andrew laughed. “ Go ahead, make a run for it. I ’ m ten times faster than you are, little Ordinary.”

Then, a miracle occurred.

In the living room, Ward—impossibly, incredibly—forced himself back onto four paws.

Blood poured from his wounds, turning his dark fur black and slick. But his amber eyes blazed with ferocious determination as he staggered forward.

Andrew sensed the movement too late. Ward ’ s massive form barreled into him from behind, driving Andrew face-first into the floor. The impact was so violent that Emily felt it through the soles of her feet. Hardwood planks splintered, and Andrew ’ s head went through a jagged hole.

Ward dragged Andrew out of the hole, rolled him over, then pinned the other shifter beneath him, one enormous paw pressed against Andrew ’ s chest. With his other front paw raised, claws extended, Ward prepared to deliver a killing blow to Andrew ’ s throat.

But the strike never fell.

Andrew ’ s body suddenly convulsed beneath Ward. His half-shifted form shuddered violently, then changed. Fur receded, limbs straightened, and his features rearranged themselves back into human form.

The transformation seemed involuntary, spasmodic rather than controlled. When it was complete, Andrew Brunborn lay naked and unconscious on Ward ’ s floor, the true extent of his injuries now visible without fur or clothes to hide them.

Besides a long, shallow gouge over his biceps, he had a bullet hole in his right shoulder, and two more clustered on his chest.

Blood pulsed weakly from the wounds with each shallow breath, the rhythm already becoming irregular. His skin looked grayish under his golden tan.

As Emily stared down at the man who had terrorized her, controlled her, hunted her, he coughed. A shocking gout of blood spilled from his mouth, spreading across the ruined hardwood floor in a widening crimson pool.