Bowman heard the roar of the attack even through his agony.

The vet, though she wore the stupid costume of a groupie, had efficiently shoved his bones back into position and wrapped his leg, but it fucking hurt. Bowman’s Collar had gone off, the shock trying to keep him from rolling over and gutting her, but had only succeeded in making the pain worse. Cade’s weight on his side didn’t help either. Kenzie had been so much sexier.

Bowman knew he shouldn’t attempt to shift back until he was more healed—he’d risk snapping the bones in the splint apart. But he wished he could communicate better with Cade, find out what was happening.

He snarled as the draft brought the smell of the beast down the hall, not that he hadn’t smelled it the instant the front door opened. Even the vet winced, and Cade growled.

Bowman snarled back at him. Cross-species communication was sorely lacking among Shifters, but Cade had known Bowman long enough to understand him. He gave Bowman a nod and left him for the main part of the bar.

Bowman started to push himself up, but the vet said sternly, “No, you need to stay down.”

Bowman sent her a growl. He knew Kenzie was out there, in front of the others, leading them. He didn’t need a mate bond to tell him that. Kenzie knew what to do. Cade was now with her, and Jamie and Marcus. They had it covered.

Except—every instinct in Bowman told him they didn’t. This monster was something new, something they’d never faced before. The screech and boom of the front door giving way, and the howls and cries of hurt Shifters reinforced that conviction.

Bowman dragged himself up. The splint held. Though it hurt like hell, Bowman’s natural ability to heal was kicking in. Kenzie lying on him had helped a lot. The touch of a mate, though no one could explain the process, seemed to work.

Bowman easily pushed past the vet, in spite of her protests, and staggered down the hall to the main part of the bar. What he saw made every human thought in him flee and his wolf take over.

His mate and friends were battling the thing that had broken the doorframe it had shoved itself through. Cade had turned bear, the grizzly on his back legs, ears flat, roaring his power. The beast coming at them was three times Cade’s size.

Jamie, with the lightning speed of the cheetah, was darting around the creature, trying to get under it for attack in vulnerable places. The beast caught Jamie with a swipe of a giant hand and threw him across the room. Jamie let out a cat screech, more pissed off than terrified. He hit the wall with a crunch, slid down it, and went still.

Bowman dragged himself over to Jamie, who was out cold. Damn it. Kenzie had the right idea, but not enough Shifters to make it work.

He had to do something, or this would turn into a bloodbath, all Shifters down. He snarled at the nearest Shifter, the cub who’d begged Kenzie to come help. The cub was a Lupine, one of Bowman’s clan. Bowman made him understand that he should look after Jamie, then Bowman left them and hobbled down the back hall again.

He growled at the bar’s owner, who was cowering with the vet against the far wall, until the man got the idea and unlocked and opened the back door.

The rear parking lot was still mostly empty, only a few cars and trucks left. None of the vehicles were what Bowman needed, so he crept around to the front of the roadhouse, keeping to the shadows.

A row of cars in the front lot had been flattened by the attacking creature. The trucks had fared a little better, but most were dented and shoved askew.

The truck Bowman sought rested at the edge of the lot, untouched. The pickup was a giant of a thing with a huge cab, raised body, and oversized tires made for off-roading.

Cade’s truck. His baby. Cade had bought it used from a guy who ran monster trucks, and spent his days happily tinkering it into a honed machine.

The beast paid no attention to Bowman as he crept across the lot, making for the truck, which told Bowman the creature wasn’t very smart. Even an ordinary animal made sure it knew what threat was behind it.

Bowman reached the pickup and stopped a moment to rest in its shadow. For the next step, he’d have to shift back to human, which he knew was going to hurt.

Shifters usually healed fast. Cuts closed rapidly and bruises vanished as the Shifter’s metabolism strove to make them whole again. They’d been bred to be fighters ages ago—battle beasts, they’d been called—meant to fight wars for others without suffering too many casualties.

Nice idea. Hadn’t worked. Shifters had died being forced to fight other Shifters, until the Shifters had decided to combine forces and turn on their masters.

Shifter physique had remained unchanged through the passing centuries, though, even if these days Shifters preferred to watch TV, drink beer, and get laid instead of fighting battles to the death for the Fae. Bowman knew his leg had already begun its healing process, bones and muscles knitting. Even so, this shift was going to be a bitch.

Bowman suppressed a howl, then a groan as he moved from wolf form to human. His body protested, sinews not wanting to change and stretch. Pain lanced his broken leg but Bowman ended up human once more, panting against the side of the pickup, holding on to it and fighting not to pass out.

Cade had locked his truck, but it was an older model, with no fancy electronic locks to foil would-be thieves. He’d locked it against humans, anyway; Shifters could easily break in, but they never would. Shifters didn’t touch one another’s things. They respected territory—violating it was deadly dangerous and bone-headed stupid.

Bowman took a few more breaths, waiting until he could pull himself all the way up, then drew back his fist and punched out the window. He clenched his teeth against that pain, shaking blood from his hand. Then he brushed aside broken glass and flipped the latch to unlock the door.

Another breath as he yanked the door open and used it to lever his body into the cab. He landed on the seat, then clutched the steering wheel and rested his forehead on it, searing pain making him want to pass out again.

Bowman’s speculations had been right—when the splint had fallen away as he shifted, his leg had twisted in the setting, and it was broken again. But he’d have to live with it for now.

Cade had the truck’s keys, but that fact didn’t slow Bowman down. He had the steering column broken and the wires tapped together in a matter of seconds. The truck roared to life.

The beast spun around at the sudden sound, at last taking its attention from the roadhouse. Bowman turned on all the truck’s lights—headlights, fog lights, spotlights—every gimmicky piece Cade had bolted to the thing—put the truck in gear, and rammed his good foot to the gas pedal.