how increasingly strong he’d gotten in the last few weeks, almost like being with the pack was increasing

his wolf strength. “Stick another on,” he said, and Matthew complied, whistling.

“You working out, Kev?”

“Been going to the gym, yeah. I have to stay in shape to defend my little sister from unscrupulous suitors,”

he joked, though perhaps his face didn’t show it because Matthew looked worried.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Matthew, a large, handsome, African-American man studying to be an attorney

like Hannah, said. “Remind me never to piss you off, man.”

Kevin laughed, ducked inside the church. Hannah stood at one of the many long trestle tables where they

would be handing out foodstuffs to the needy, counting cans by running her fingers over them. Hannah was

always very concerned that there was enough for everyone who came to the church. “You broke up, didn’t

you?” she said without looking up.

Kevin set the tomatoes down. “What is this obsession with my love life? You’re as bad as Jolene.”

“I care about you, stupid,” Hannah shot back, tossing her long, loose blonde hair back over one shoulder.

“Your breakup is my breakup. And I’m not as bad as Jolene, I’m worse.” She pinched his nose. “Get it

right!”

Kevin discreetly removed one of the cans that Hannah had counted.

“I know what you did. Put it back.”

“No.”

“Put it back!”

“Make me.”

“Kevin!”

“Not till you stop asking me stupid questions about my boyfriends!” Kevin laughed.

Hannah reached for a bag of white bread on a nearby table, swung it around expertly, and hit Kevin in the

chest with it. The bread made a dull thud as it connected with the hard, lean muscles of his pecs.

“That’s a declaration of war, I’ll have you know, young lady.” Kevin reached for a pack of bagels, took

one out, and threw it at Hannah. It bounced off her shoulder.

“And that’s not?” She hit him again, harder, smashing the bread flat, and before long they had a fullfledged

food fight going on—or a bread fight, in any event.

Reverend Shrewsbury stepped into the room at the sound of the commotion, shook his head, and discreetly

left to gather more foodstuffs.

Neither Kevin nor Hannah were paying any attention when the window on the opposite end of the church

hall blew out in a rain of deadly sharp glass daggers and a huge, shaggy beast burst through. Its fur

shimmered and its teeth flashed as it lashed out at the air with an outstretched claw. It hit the floor and

slid across the waxed hardwood, heading right for Kevin and Hannah where they were picking crumbs of

bread from their hair.

Hannah gasped, turning toward the commotion, her hands blindly seeking answers. Kevin knocked his

sister out of the way at the last moment, and the werewolf skidded by them, crashing into the long trestles

set up, toppling them, snapping some in two, and sending others and hundreds of pounds of cans and boxes

of foodstuffs spinning into the double doors of the church hall like a barricade.

“Kevin!” Hannah shouted, scrambling to her feet. “What’s going on?”

The werewolf threw off debris and stood up. It was huge, upright and silvery-pale, looking every bit like

a typical movie werewolf—and just as terrifying. Its Navy Seals tags jingled around its thick, furry neck.

It eyed Kevin with pale, savage eyes, leaving no doubt in Kevin’s mind as to who it was. “Pedigree…” it

snarled at him, though the sound that came out of its jaws was anything but human.

Hannah screamed.

Kevin looked around, but the doors of the hall were blocked, and there were no other exits. The window

was broken, but there was no safe way to get Hannah out. From the other side of the barricade, he could

hear Matthew and Reverend Shrewsbury banging and shouting, but they weren’t getting in. Grabbing

Hannah’s hand, he yanked on it. “Follow me.”

Fenrir swiped his arms about angrily, knocking cans and boxes to the floor. He bellowed like a train.

“What’s going on, Kevin?”

“Just follow me!”

He dragged her down the hall. Reverend Shrewsbury had a desk set up near the back where he punched

tickets or wrote down the names of needy parishioners. Kevin shoved his sister in the kneehole and

crouched down, blocking her escape. “Stay here. Don’t come out, no matter what you hear.”

“Kevin…Kevin…!” She grabbed at the front of his shirt in her panic.

“Please, Hannah, trust me!”

Sobbing, she nodded.

Kevin stood up and turned, just in time. Fenrir was bearing down on him, his wicked claws slicing the air

like scythes.

Kevin ducked and rolled, coming up inches away. But before Fenrir could lunge, he kicked out, his shin

connecting with Fenrir’s knees. Fenrir howled in pain, shattering another glass window with his highpitched

wail of outrage, and dropped to the floor, giving Kevin just enough time to scramble away.

“You run!” Fenrir snarled out.

“No,” Kevin said, stopping and calling on the wolf. It filled his body, increasing his height, broadening

his chest, thickening his muscle mass, and making dark, reddish hair spring to life all over him. His head

flattened and became a pair of snapping jaws and his teeth and claws lengthened to three-inch-long

knives. Within seconds he was like Fenrir—almost eight feet of towering muscle and fanged, furry rage.

He roared a warning at Fenrir, and Fenrir roared back.

If he wanted to hurt Hannah, he would need to go through Kevin first.

Fenrir tried. With a lunge, he tackled Kevin to the floor. Errant boxes and cans shot in every direction. He

tried to snap his jaws down around Kevin’s muzzle, but Kevin caught them in his hand, holding them

open. It was like wrestling with an alligator. Fenrir snarled and whipped side to side, trying to snap his

jaws shut. Kevin grunted and kicked, slashing at Fenrir’s belly with his clawed hind legs.

Fenrir squealed in pain and jerked away, but Kevin came after the werewolf, determined to defeat him—

to kill him, if necessary. The two locked together like wild dogs and began thrashing and biting and

slashing at each other with their claws. They ripped clumps of hair out of each other, scratched at eyes,

slashed at bellies. Fenrir threw Kevin against one wall, breaking the cinderblocks that made up the church

hall. Kevin quickly recovered and jumped on Fenrir, pummeling him.

The savage noises of battle they made caused Matthew and the Reverend to bang even harder on the

barricaded doors and shout to be let in. Kevin could hear Matthew screaming for Hannah—could hear

Hannah sobbing from her safe place under the desk. He couldn’t let Fenrir go. Fenrir would return—

Fenrir would try and hurt Hannah to get back at him for stealing Roman’s affections.

A burst of rage gave Kevin the upper hand he needed. As Fenrir lashed out at him, he sidestepped the

other werewolf and reached out one long arm, snagging Fenrir by the dog tags. He wasn’t sure if they