I jogged up the steps to the rail station. “Andrew?” I called, pushing the filthy glass door open. I was giving away my position, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t come to fight him; I’d come to explain. And to apologize.

“Andrew, where are you?” My eyes skimmed over the room, but I saw no sign of Andrew.

“It doesn’t have to be like this. I just want to help you.” My boots crunched on broken glass as I moved farther into the room, and I’d gone several steps before I realized I could hear him breathing. Fast and hard. I sniffed the air when my ears couldn’t pinpoint his location. His scent was strong, and heavily tinged with anxiety. He was still in the room—somewhere.

Stepping carefully, I headed for a beat-up customer service booth in the center of the main room, the only obstruction in sight. When I rounded the counter, my foot hit a busted metal cash register and I clutched the cracked countertop to save myself from landing face-first in a scattering of shattered window glass.

And there, crouched behind the counter between a metal filing box and the wall, was Andrew, shirtless, his khaki shorts unbuttoned.

He froze, staring up at me with one hand on his zipper. His shirt lay at his feet. He’d been undressing so he could Shift. And kill me. I could see it in his eyes.

I exhaled slowly, devastated by the rage in every line on his face.

“Andrew, you have to let m—”

He pounced. In human form, and from a complete crouch, he was suddenly airborne. His shoulder slammed into my chest. My feet left the ground for just an instant. Then I hit the floor, and his weight drove the air from my lungs.

He sat on my stomach, his knees straddling my bruised ribs. My back burned in a dozen places, where each shard of glass had sliced through my blouse and into my flesh. I lay stunned and breathless, wishing I could get to the handcuffs poking me from my pocket.

Andrew snarled, his eyes wide, lips drawn back from blunt, square teeth. He was in human form, but his inner cat had taken charge. And it was pissed.

“Listen to me. You don’t want to do this.” I wedged my arms between our bodies and planted my hands on his chest.

“I can help you. Let me up, and let’s talk.”

I pushed against him, but he wouldn’t move. Andrew wasn’t as big as my fellow enforcers, but he still outweighed me by quite a bit. And thanks to me, he had a werecat’s strength. I could make him move but not without hurting him, and I wouldn’t hurt him if I didn’t have to. I’d already damaged him beyond repair.

“I’m done talking to you,” Andrew growled, his eyes swimming in rage. His hand grasped my left bicep, forcing it to the floor, and I winced as another shard of glass bit into my arm.

“Well, I’m not done talking to you.” I met his eyes, only inches from mine. His anger permeated the room as surely as his scent did, and it was probably a bad time to insist on conversation. But I had to explain. He needed to know the truth.

“I never meant to infect you. It was an accident, and I’m trying to make it up to—”

His fist flew, and my cheek exploded. Tears formed in my eyes, and I sobbed out loud, not from pain—though it certainly hurt—but from heartbreak. The Andrew I’d known could never have hit anyone, much less me.

I closed my eyes and breathed through the throbbing. “Is this what you did to those women? The strippers?”

“Yes,” Andrew spat, and my eyes flew open. He stared down at me, his nostrils wide. “You want to hear about it? ”

I shook my head, sucking blood from the new cut on the inside of my cheek. I did not want to hear about it.

“We picked them because they looked like you. I got them outside alone. It was easy—evidently I don’t look dangerous. How’s that for irony? But I’m not harmless anymore.” He punctuated the rhetorical question with another blow to my opposite cheek.

More pain, and this time lights flashed behind my eyes. But I didn’t fight back. Luiz had made Andrew into the monster he’d become, but I’d given him the opportunity. I was not going to hurt Andrew anymore.

“You killed them because they looked like me?” I swallowed thickly, and tasted my own blood. “That hardly seems fair.”

“We were trying to infect them. Death was an unfortunate side effect.

And life isn’t fair. You taught me that. Luiz taught me lessons of a more practical nature.” His fist flew again, slamming into my left side this time.

I gasped, then bit my lip to keep from screaming.

When I could breathe again, I met his eyes boldly, the first sparks of anger flashing among embers of guilt and grief. “He left you, Andrew.

He’s gone, but I’m stil here. What does that tell you?”

“That you’re not as smart as you think you are.” His eyes flashed in cruel satisfaction. “He wanted you alive. I don’t.” Andrew leaned to my left, and his hands curled around the old cash register. The damn thing had to weigh at least a hundred pounds. He’d never be able to lift it.

But he did. He yanked it from the floor, arms shaking with the effort as he lifted it over his head.

“No!” Panic dumped adrenaline into my bloodstream, and I felt the ground for something to use as a weapon. Broken glass bit into my palm.

My fingers curled around something long and cold and hard.

Andrew snarled and his arms tensed. The cash register trembled in his grip, directly over my head.

I swung my unseen weapon, trying to knock him off me before he crushed my skull. My makeshift mace thunked into flesh. Blood poured down on me, hot and wet. His whole body jerked. I shoved Andrew backward and lunged to one side. His hands opened. The cash register smashed into the ground where my head had been.