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“Man, I never saw that one coming. She finally picks someone—”

“And he’s a total lowlife.”

José looked over. “We’re going to have to call her in.”

“I figured.” Butch focused his eyes by squinting. “Listen, I’m supposed to meet her tomorrow. Give me a crack at her first, will ya?”

“I can’t do that, O’Neal. You’re not—”

“Yeah, you can. You just schedule her for the day after.”

“The investigation is moving forward—”

“Please.” Butch couldn’t believe he was begging. “Come on, José. I’ve got a better shot than anyone at getting through to her.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she watched him almost kill me.”

José looked down at the grotty bar top. “You’ve got one day. And nobody’d better find out, because the captain will have my head. Then no matter what, I gotta interrogate her at the station.”

Butch nodded while Abby came dancing back over with a Scotch bottle in one hand and a liter of vodka in the other.

“You’re looking dry, boys,” she said with a giggle. The message in her lusty smile and her vacant eyes was getting louder, more desperate, as the night crawled to an end.

Butch thought of his empty wallet. His empty holster. His empty apartment.

“I gotta get out of her,” he muttered, sliding off the stool. “I mean, here.”

Wrath’s arm absorbed the shotgun’s load, and the impact twisted his torso like rope. He went with the force of the hit, spinning to the ground, but he didn’t stay down. Moving fast and low, he got the hell out of the way, not giving the shooter a chance to nail him again.

The fifth lesser had come out of nowhere. And it was packing a heavy load in that sawed-off.

Behind a pine tree, Wrath quickly took stock of the injury. Nothing too deep. Some skin and muscle stripped off his biceps. Bone was intact. He could still fight.

He took out a throwing star and stepped into the open.

And that was when a tremendous flash of light illuminated the clearing.

He leaped back into the shadows. “Aw, Christ!”

Now they were all in for it. The beast was coming out of Rhage. And the shit was going to hit the fan.

Rhage’s eyes glowed white as headlights as his body mutated in a ghastly display of tearing and ruptures. Something horrible took his place, its scales glistening in the moonlight, its claws slicing through the air. The lessers didn’t know what hit them as the creature attacked with a full set of fangs, going after them until their blood ran down its huge chest in a river.

Wrath stayed back. He’d seen this before, and the beast didn’t need help. Hell, if you got too close, you were liable to get a body trim.

When it was all over, the creature let out a howl so loud, the trees bowed away, their branches blown asunder.

The slaughter was absolute. There was no hope of getting any identification off the lessers because there were no bodies. Even their clothes had been consumed.

Wrath stepped into the clearing.

The creature swung around, panting.

Wrath kept his voice low and his hands at his sides. Rhage was in there somewhere, but until he came out again, you couldn’t assume the beast would remember who the brothers were.

“We’re cool,” Wrath said. “You and me, we’ve done this before.”

The beast’s chest pumped up and down, nostrils quivering as it sniffed the air. Glowing eyes fixated on the blood running down Wrath’s arm. A snort came out. The claws lifted.

“Forget it. You did your thing. You’re fed. Now, let’s have Rhage back.”

The great head shook back and forth, but its scales started to vibrate. A high-pitched protest breached the creature’s throat, and then there was another flash.

Rhage fell naked to the ground, landing face-first in the dirt.

Wrath ran over and dropped to his knees, reaching out. The warrior’s skin was slick with sweat, and he was shaking like a newborn in the cold.

Rhage shifted at the touch. Tried to lift his head. Failed.

Wrath took the brother’s hand and squeezed it. The burn on reentry was always a bitch.

“Relax, Hollywood, you’re good. You’re doing good.” He took off his jacket and gently