heart, but Kevin swallowed it down and worked on concentrating on his escape. He ducked into a nearby

crowded parking lot and weaved between the parked cars, hoping to lose his pursuers. I will hold it

together, he told himself. I will not panic!

Flashing images of Anya’s coat made him break out in a cold sweat. If Anya and the pack were willing to

do that to Jonah, poor Jonah, there was no limit to what they would do to him. He thought about ducking

down and trying to hide between the parked cars, but he knew his scent would quickly give him away.

The werewolves could track an animal in the forest hours after it had passed through; they would easily

discover him. Leaving the car park behind, he headed toward the street, but quickly came up against a tall,

chain-link safety fence at least nine feet tall.

A huge junkyard dog lunged against the fence, barking and baring its fangs. Kevin growled back and the

dog turned tail and raced away, whining. He quickly scaled the fence and dropped down on the other side,

but he knew he’d made enough noise to raise the dead. The pack would be here in a matter of minutes.

The street lay ahead, his apartment at least a dozen blocks away, but he’d grown up in this part of the city

and he knew a few shortcuts through some back alleys. He and Hannah had often used them when they

wanted to sneak to the movies. He took to them, winding his way around crumbling projects and old

industrial machine shops. The place was like a maze, almost more confusing than he remembered. He

raced down tight alleys clotted with garbage, past bums huddled against brownstone walls full of

scrawled graffiti. This part of the city had seen little, if any, urban renewal. It was a mix of old and new

architecture and a mind field of trash and the homeless.

Behind him, the chain-link fence groaned as members of the pack leapt it effortlessly. They were a little

too close to civilization to shift, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have speed, strength and agility on their

side. Even in human form, all the werewolves were wolf-like in their endurance.

Kevin splashed through puddles, dashed around corners and leaped small wooden fences. He heard

screams from down the alley as the pack fell across the homeless and tore into them in frustration.

Shaking with rage and terror, he ducked into the street and crossed an old, abandoned railroad station.

The project where he and Hannah lived wasn’t far off—they used to be able to hear the trains passing

when they were kids—but that’s not where Hannah was. She was at Matthew’s place. He had an

apartment near the church several blocks away. But maybe he could use that to his advantage.

The pack knew where he lived. Naturally, they’d expect him to go straight home. Instead, he doubled back

and disappeared into the alley system again. He found a hiding spot behind an ancient blue Dumpster and

crouched low, out of breath but trying not to breath too loudly as he heard several pairs of feet hurrying

past. He stayed as quiet as possible, hoping his scent was all over the place and impossible to track, until

he was certain the pack had moved on.

He waited fifteen minutes more to make certain Anya hadn’t left anyone to recon the area. Nothing stirred

except for a cat digging diligently into an overturned garbage can.

He couldn’t wait any longer. If Anya knew about his apartment, she might also know about Matthew.

When she didn’t find Hannah there, she might try Matthew’s next. Who knew how far her knowledge and

influence went? Ducking out of his hiding space, Kevin re-shouldered the pack and started down the alley

toward the street.

He was almost at the end when three figures stepped into view. One was Anya, surrounded on both sides

by two burly members of the pack.

“Shit!” Kevin skidded to a halt, his blood thudding in his ears.

Anya glared at him, no smile on her shiny, ruby-red lips now. “The way you carry on, a girl might be

insulted, little wolfling.”

“You’re not a girl, Freki,” Kevin growled.

Anya narrowed her snapping blue eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Things would have been much

easier for you if you’d just done what you were told and left your human life behind.”

“Why?” Kevin panted. “So you can hold me prisoner, use me like some kind of breeding stud, the way

you do Roman?”

Anya dropped her fur coat to the ground. “Roman is well cared for.”

“A well cared for animal in a cage is still an animal in a cage.”

Anya didn’t respond to that. She did say, “I’ll give you one last chance to come back willingly, Kevin.

After that, I’m all out of mercy.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“In that case, you leave me no choice.” She slid the spaghetti straps of her dress off her shoulders and

stepped out of it. Under the dress she was slim and boyish, with narrow hips and small breasts, but within

seconds that all began to change. Like Kevin and Roman, she was a Pedigree. She was also the first of

their kind, according to Roman. The Eve of the Werewolf underworld. She shifted seamlessly, with no

effort at all. Her eyes flashed blood red and turned wolfen and then the rest of her followed…

transformed.

Anya—or Freki—shimmered into her half wolf form, over ten feet of watery, sinewy muscle. Her fur was

long, silky and shining like burning winter on her slender, nimble body, and her claws as long as swords.

She reared up on her powerful hind legs, positively towering over the smaller, darker pack members to

either side of her. Both were shifting with more effort and trouble and giving off grunts of pain as their

bones broke and re-mended. Their queen snarled, her dripping jaws falling open to reveal a bright red

tongue and double rows of long, shark-like teeth. Her open, gaping mouth was large enough to swallow

Kevin whole as she shambled forward menacingly.

“Oh god,” Kevin said, wondering if he was going to be sick. He glanced behind him, but the alley was a

dead end; there was no escape that way. He shifted quickly into his half-wolf form, even though he was

still two heads smaller than she. He hoped he’d be able to escape, but Freki was upon him so quickly she

was like a pale blur.

Her teeth sank into his shoulder, making him scream in pain and outrage. He tried to reach for the

Wolfsbane in the pocket of his ragged jeans, but Anya knocked his hand away. Her strength was shocking

and unnatural, even for a werewolf. She snagged one gigantic, clawed fist in the front of his shredded shift

and lifted him up as if he were made of straw. “Traitor!” she snarled in his face, flecking him with foam

and saliva. She ripped at his backpack with her claws, scattering the important documents that Roman had

given all over the alley before throwing him against one wall.

The impact knocked the breath from Kevin’s body and he wheezed as he slid to the ground, his vision

doubling, his body crippled by pain from his various broken bones and contusions. He groaned,