I dropped the gun and ran to Ben.

"Ben! Ben, hold on, please—"

"Kitty!"

Already sitting up, he fell into my arms. We clung to each other, as if afraid of drowning.

My arms tight around him, his blood soaking into my clothes, smearing on my face, I kept saying, sobbing, over and over, "Don't die, don't leave me, don't ever leave me."

For all his injuries, he squeezed back just as tight. I couldn't breathe, and that was okay.

"I'm all right," he said, his voice weak. "I'll be all right. I won't go."

"I love you. I love you, Ben."

He kissed me. He could only find my ear because I pressed myself so tightly to him, my face against his neck. I responded, turning so my lips met his. He held my head, his fingers digging in my hair, and we kissed. I could taste the blood on his lips and face. I didn't want to come up for air.

Ben slumped against me, and I had a moment of panic. Maybe he wasn't all right after all, maybe he was dying, maybe—

He rested his head on my shoulder. He'd let himself relax, settling into my embrace. He wasn't going to shift, he wasn't going to die.

He murmured, "She kept saying, 'We'll give you back to her in pieces. We'll show you to her in pieces, before we take her apart.' And all I could think was, ‘Don't hurt her. Please don't hurt her.’"

Together, we sighed. The world had paused for a moment, and we took advantage of it.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I tried to get a look at him, at his injuries. But I didn't want to move. I wanted to keep him close.

"I feel like shit," he said, and chuckled. "Dack's with them, he's one of the bad guys."

"I know. He's gone, he went away."

"Did we win? Did the good guys win?"

"Yeah, the good guys won. Let's take a look at you."

He winced as he straightened, and we surveyed the damage: bruises everywhere, cuts on his arms. His shirt was so torn it practically fell off him. Slash marks covered most of his body. Face, neck, chest, stomach. They looked deep and oozed red. The skin around the wounds separated when he breathed. She'd wanted to make it slow, which I supposed I ought to be grateful for. It kept him alive for me.

"Oh my God," I whispered, wincing in sympathy.

He shook his head. "It's already better. Now that she's stopped, it's better."

"You should lie still for a while."

"As long as you keep me company."

I smiled. "Okay."

The noise from the pack—ugly, wet noises—had stopped. The wolves remained. Most had Changed to their four-legged selves, pushed over the edge by the blood and violence. But they were all calm now, lying down, licking their paws, or each other's muzzles. A couple of human forms sat among them, watching them. Their arms were bloody.

There was no sign of Carl.

The wolves gathered around me and Ben. The whole crowd of them, over a dozen, formed a circle around us. When they noticed me looking at them, they glanced away, bowed their heads, laid back their ears, lowered their tails. All signs of submission. All body language that said, You are the leader now.

"I'm not ready for this," I whispered into Ben's neck.

"Didn't you say you wanted kids?"

Not like this. One kid, maybe. A child of my own flesh and blood. Not…not a dozen killers. Still, I giggled, high-pitched and nervous.

"O alpha, my alpha," Ben said, and I punched his arm—very gently. He kissed my forehead.

Shaun hadn't joined the others in the kill. He'd stayed back, near me. Watching over us.

"You okay, Ben?" he asked.

"Getting there." He showed no inclination to try the next step of struggling to his feet, but that was fine. We could stay here awhile. We were safe now.

"What are you doing here?" I said, choking on the lump in my throat. "All of you." A couple of the wolves had perked up their ears, listening to us.

"Mick was watching the house, but when the cop got there he went into the hills. Lost phone reception, so Becky and Wes came looking for him. They caught Carl and Meg's scent and followed them. Then Rick called me about Ben and Dack. He said he sent the cops here as well. They should be here any minute."

I let out a bitter laugh. Rick probably thought calling the cavalry made up for sending Ben into danger in the first place.

"Thank you," I said, instead of swearing a blue streak.

"You looked like you were doing just fine," Shaun said.

I shrugged. To be honest, I was glad to not have to shoot Carl in the end. I didn't regret not being the one to pull the trigger on him.

"Wolves hunt in packs," I said, and left it at that.

Police sirens howled, far at first, but quickly growing closer. Sounded like three or four cars.

I sighed, resigned. I didn't know how I was going to explain all this.

"Wes!" Shaun called out to one of the pack who was still human. The man stood, displacing a couple of wolves who'd settled in near him. Wes trotted over. "Help me clean up."

Before moving off to where Meg lay, Shaun said to me, "We'll take care of it."

The two men pulled Meg's body off the ground, hoisting its arms over their shoulders. Meg's long, dark hair fell forward, masking her face. Quickly they dragged her into the hills, out of sight. There were places they could make bodies disappear. The pack cleaned up its messes. I watched her go, surprised at the hate still welling in me at the sight of her. Gone, she was gone, I had to remind myself. She couldn't hurt us anymore.

Ben brought me back to earth.

"Nice of them to give us some warning," Ben said. "It's Detective Hardin, isn't it?"

"Oh, probably."

"Should we go meet her? Where'd you put the gun? Ergh—" He tried to get to his feet, then slumped back, halted by pain.

"I dropped it. I'll look for it in a minute. Hardin’ll take care of herself."

Sure enough, five minutes later, Hardin and a half-dozen officers came from the street, emerging around the cottonwoods. They fanned out, like they expected resistance in force, and they all had weapons drawn.

The wolves, the pack, had gone, fading into the hills. Only Ben and I remained, covered in drying blood, sitting in the dry summer grass, drenched in the morning light.

I put my hands harmlessly in the air and tried not to look like a target. "Hi, Detective."

"Kitty? What's going on here? Is everything okay? Oh, my God!"

She'd gotten her first look at us. We were a mess.

"It's over. It's all over," I said.

She hesitated, clearly at a loss for words. Not that I could blame her. Frankly, I didn't much care what she made of all this anymore. She could figure it out on her own.

"Do you need to go to a hospital?" she said finally, picking what seemed to be the most immediate problem.

Ben wore a punchy grin. Either he was feeling better or he'd completely lost it. "Naw. I just need to spend a day in bed with my girlfriend taking care of me."

Aww, he was so cute. A day in bed…sounded great. I wondered—was he too hurt to cuddle?

I asked, "Do you need us for statements or anything or can we go?"

"I ought to lock you both up," she said.

I batted my eyelashes innocently. Please, no more, just let me sleep…

She sighed. "Go. But I'll call you later."

"Thanks. Oh—and Dack's still loose," I said.

Hardin shook her head and smiled. "My guy staking out the house caught him speeding in a car I suspect is stolen. We've taken him into custody."

"Silver-painted cell?"

"You got it."

"And everyone lived happily ever after," Ben said, smiling vacantly.

Wow, I needed to get him home before he really did lose it. "Come on, Prince Charming." He had to lean on me and move very slowly, but he managed to stand. He was creaking like an old man.

"Don't forget the gun," Ben said.

Hardin looked at me. Watched me the whole time while I hunted around in the grass. I finally found it by the smell of spent powder.