But Mikey was grateful for one thing. The Callahans. His family. They were lions, but not like any other Pride out there. In fact, other lions didn’t even consider Callahans a Pride but a roving band of “gypsies,” and that was fine. Because most lion males knew they were completely on their own should something happen; the Pride females would rarely bother to track down a lost male unless it was a much loved son. That wasn’t the Callahans. Family was family to them and Mikey had no doubt his family would search for him—and God help those who’d taken him.

Yet that was something to think about later. Right now he needed to get out.

Mikey tensed. He could smell the full-humans nearing. Hear their footsteps as they tried to tiptoe through the trees.

He saw one. The clothes were expensive. That gun even more so.

Mikey tried to shift again. His body rippled. Soon. He’d be able to shift soon. But he’d run out of time.

The hunter swung toward him, weapon raised. Mikey charged past him, making sure to hit the man’s body with his paw as he did. Ribs snapped, caving in on impact, the man falling backward, and Mikey kept going. He finally neared the tall, brick wall that surrounded this place. The full-humans that were hunting him were beginning to panic now that they realized he’d be able to shift to human any second now. It would be easy for him to get past the doors once he had thumbs, but at the moment Mikey still had to knock those doors down. Unfortunately, the few doors he’d found were solid, impenetrable steel.

That wall, Mikey was sure, had been built to keep his kind in. He could smell the other breeds that had run and died here. Had others made it out? If they had, were they killed later? Mikey knew that once he got out of here, just running back to his family would only put them in danger. He’d have to do something else, but he could worry about that later.

Mikey heard men yelling orders, could hear running. It was the men who guarded this place. They didn’t hunt, not like the others. They simply prevented the shifters from getting out. Some had extremely powerful weapons and tranq guns. Knowing he’d have to work fast, Mikey moved behind the hedges and tried again. For several brief, wonderful seconds, his right claw turned into a hand. Mikey stopped, took a breath, tried again. Several guards in white, to blend with the snow-covered grounds, came into view. They hunted in threes now; this was no longer a casual, fun thing for rich friends. They had to stop him.

What about when I get past that gate?

He couldn’t worry about that now. One terrifying situation at a time.

Snow and ice cracked beneath boots, the men drawing near.

Mikey waited until they were close and he charged again. They heard him, all three turning and firing at the same time. Shots hit, tearing into his shoulders, but missing major arteries. Mikey kept coming, ramming into two at once, his fourhundred and thirty pounds crushing them.

More screams rang out as Mikey turned and swung his claw, ripping across the third man’s face. Then Mikey took his chance and shifted to human.

It took two tries, but it worked. He snatched the keys from the man closest to him and ran to the thick steel door built into the wall. He put the key in, turned the lock. Alarms sounded. Loud and powerful, an electronic voice announcing which door had been opened. Mikey ignored all that and shifted back to lion before racing out of the gate and onto the sidewalk.

Men were coming at him from behind and from both sides once he was out, so he charged straight forward, deciding to shift back to human once he was in the middle of the street because he knew that a naked, bleeding man would be much less terrifying to the general population than a bleeding lion. But as he ran across the asphalt, his body readying to change to his human form, something big and heavy plowed into him, lifting his entire body into the air. He spun up and back, feeling like he was flying, before he came spinning down to earth.

Mikey knew even before he landed that now he was completely screwed.

Sophie DiMarco hit the brakes on the stolen $140,000 Maserati, but it didn’t help. She still collided and shoved forward that ... that thing that had been hit by the delivery truck in front of her, sending it up and over and down until it landed right in her path.

And what exactly was that thing anyway?

Knowing she couldn’t get out of the car and go look, Sophie shifted the Maserati into reverse, ready to make a run for it. But before she could floor it, the thing she’d hit stood. And it was ... human. Big, blond, and golden, he looked around, dazed eyes trying to focus. Although being hit by the car she was driving should have killed him, he was still walking. Even more surprising when she saw the bullet holes riddling his body. Then she saw them. Men dressed alike, in white boots, white winter coats, and white fur hats. She’d guess they were guards or military or something.

She only had a split second to do something and Sophie, being almost naturally kind of difficult, did the most insane thing she could. She leaned over and pushed open the passenger door.

“Get in!” she screamed. “Now!”

The man looked at her, eyes blinking. Then he was running, his hand pressed to the side she’d rammed into.

“Hurry!”

The men weren’t coming after them. They were raising their weapons and aiming. They were going to shoot them down on the street.

“Close the door,” she ordered. “And hold on.”

Sophie placed her right hand on the seat next to her and looked over her shoulder, hitting the gas. The perfectly engineered vehicle shot off, the sound of gunfire ringing from behind and ruining a perfectly good payday for her!