The night was dark apart from the flickering high beams of my truck that shone down the road. I climbed to my feet. Billy’s truck was in a ditch on the opposite side. The passenger door was open, and stuff was strewn around the truck—an empty soda bottle, papers, and trash.
Pistol raised and ready to fire, I crossed the road, scanning the area.
The sides and hood of his truck were dented, and the windshield was gone. I eased down the shallow embankment and peered inside the passenger door, my gun raised. I knew he wasn’t inside, but I had to check. A cellphone on the seat lit up and began vibrating. The letter D appeared on the screen.
As I leaned forward to grab it, the hairs on my neck stood on end. I spun as two ripped arms wrapped around me from behind. Pain shot through my wrist, and I dropped the gun.
No!
Panic surged through me. I slammed my head backward and heard a crunch as it connected with Billy’s face. He grunted, then threw me like I weighed no more than a feather.
I hurtled through the air and landed hard in the ditch ahead of his truck. Pain rocketed through my shoulder, and I gasped. What had I been thinking, going after him alone?
Billy grinned. “Stupid little bitch. I got you just where I need you.”
I scrambled to my feet, searching for anything I could use as a weapon. I wasn’t going down without drawing blood.
And then I saw it: a shotgun at the side of the ditch, halfway between Billy and me. It must have flown out of his truck when he’d crashed.
Get him talking. Distract him.
“You’re a pathetic dog.” I took a step forward and forced out a laugh, trying to calm my pounding heart. “A pet doing the dirty work of a sorcerer. Really, Billy? Considering how much you hate us, I never thought you’d stoop so low.”
He growled, and his eyes brightened. “I can smell your fear, Savannah. You’re not fooling anyone. He’s working for me, and once he drains every last drop of your cursed blood, we’ll both get what we want.”
My chest was heaving now, but I took another step forward, keeping my eyes locked on Billy’s. “And what’s that?”
Fear raced up my spine, and my gaze dropped to the claws that grew from Billy’s fingertips.
“Revenge.” His voice was animalistic, and his body began to shake. I was out of time.
I dove for the shotgun as the cracking of bones grew louder. Cocking it with a quick pump, I rolled onto my back as claws dug into my thigh.
I pressed the trigger, and a deafening boom rang through the air. The butt of the gun kicked into my shoulder, and Billy jerked backward several feet.
I scooted away, my ears ringing and my feet sliding in the dirt. Billy clutched his shoulder, and blood pooled on the ground beside him. Releasing his hand, he looked down at the wound and snarled.
Bone splinters poked out of the ragged flesh around his bicep. I gagged and pulled myself up, cocking the shotgun and aiming it at his head. “It’s over, Billy. Tell me who the sorcerer is.”
He chuckled and spit. “It’s not over until you and every last LaSalle is dead.”
I lowered the barrel to his thigh and pulled the trigger. My shoulder jerked from the kick, but Billy screamed as he looked down at the torn flesh and muscle of his upper thigh.
I pumped the gun again and aimed at his other leg. “Where is he?”
The wound on his shoulder began knitting together, and I froze. I knew werewolves could heal, but seeing it in the flesh was horrifying. The hole in his thigh was also closing. Where were my silver bullets when I needed them?
Billy climbed to his feet. I gripped the shotgun, trying to steady my shaking hands. I was suddenly certain that I’d have to kill him, but I needed answers first.
As if sensing my fear, he smiled. “You only have one more shot. Make it count.”
I raised the barrel to his head. “Tell me who he is, Billy.”
“I’ll do you one better and bring you to him.” He growled and surged toward me.
Billy dove low as the shotgun rang out, but the blast caught him and spun him sideways. He was back on his feet in a second, hand pressed against a bloody patch where the left side of his face had been. “Fuck the sorcerer. You’re dead, LaSalle.”
I cocked the gun, but the magazine was empty. Billy wasn’t lying—I’d used my last shot. Dread rose in my throat. My eyes flicked to the ground by his truck for my pistol, but it was too dark, and there wasn’t time to search for it.