Cathy took a step toward her, her eyes flat and cold, teeth set. They were nearly pointed, as if she wanted to shift, her fingers curling into claws tipped with bloodred nails. “Really? You wanted those men all over you the other night?” She tossed her head, her sophisticated style long gone in the pouring rain, making Emma think of a drowned rat. “Are you going to want my nails raking down your oh-so-pretty face? Tearing it off?”

Emma looked down at her own hands, held them out and willed the change, admiring the way her thick fur rippled down her arms and over her hands, how the knuckles curled and long, sharp claws burst from the tips of her fingers. She turned them over and showed them to Cathy. “Your pathetic little nails can hardly compare with the real thing. You’re nothing to me, certainly no threat.”

Clayton snickered. Trent laughed. Even Ryan gave a snort of derision.

Cathy’s face rippled with fury. A shrill shriek escaped and she ripped Kyle from Ryan’s hands, slapping the child’s face repeatedly. Kyle screamed. Ryan swore. Clayton moved then, coming to life, his speed incredible, just as Emma did the same. Clayton reached Cathy a split second before Emma, shifting as he did so, his giant paw slicing into Cathy’s skull, knocking her into Ryan so they both fell. He sank his teeth into Cathy’s throat and held in the death grip.

Emma dragged Kyle into her arms as Trent lifted the rifle. She ran for the treeline just as a large male leopard with fiery golden eyes emerged, running at full speed past her, straight at Trent. Two more large leopards flanked him. The sound of the rifle was loud in the night despite the howling wind and rain. She heard Clayton roar and then the night erupted into the horrible sound of growls and screams of agony.

Emma didn’t look back. She ran with Kyle in her arms, heading back toward the house. The boy was sobbing and clinging to her, half limp, half mad with fear and pain. “She can’t hurt you now. She can’t hurt you now,” she soothed over and over, stumbling over the uneven ground, trying to shelter him with her body. Her hair was plastered to her skull and face, hanging in dripping tails down her back.

The wind shrieked, carrying the horrifying sounds of the battle. With it came the scent of blood and flesh and wet cat. And the scent of something else. The merest sound like the scrape of a boot against bark. Emma covered Kyle’s mouth with her hand, her body going still. She hissed at him to be silent, remembering Trent as she’d shifted to human form. They hadn’t been expecting her. They hadn’t thought she could shift. They had expected Jake to be following Kyle and they hadn’t been in a hurry to run.

Kyle’s body went still, as if he knew the urgency and understood the need for silence. His eyes looked into hers, too old, frightened, but determined. She kissed him and hugged him closer as her heart began to hammer loudly in her chest. The leopard had brought Kyle to the clearing on purpose, to draw Jake there. She put Kyle down and put her fingers to her lips, signaling him to remain silent. He was so frightened, she was certain he was nearly frozen to the spot. She crouched beside him.

“Mommy has to help Daddy, baby. You can’t move. I know you’re scared, but I need you to promise me you’ll stay right here and not move, or make a sound.” She pressed his little body into the deeper grass.

He looked up at her with his eyes, so like Jake’s, eyes that seemed to have more intelligence than possible for his age. He took a deep breath and nodded his head slowly. Emma covered him with nearby branches and twigs and swept up the grass around him, taking only seconds as she hid him.

Then she ran toward the scent, shifting as she went, her body going down to the ground, on all fours, fur sliding over her skin, muzzle rounding and expanding to accommodate the teeth bursting through. The experience was becoming less painful, and faster, and she was getting used to the roped muscles and sinewy body that allowed for much easier travel.

She circled to come at him from behind. There. In the tree, he was easing his weight along a thick tree branch, to try to get a better shot. She could imagine the chaos he was viewing through his scope. Four leopards, three humans fighting to the death in a rolling, clawing, tooth-filled battle. He set the rifle to his shoulder and his eye to the scope, settling his finger on the trigger. She came up behind him silently, stealthily, her gaze fixed and focused, hunting the hunter.

“I see you, you big son of a bitch,” the man said softly, satisfaction in his voice.

She leapt, making the jump easily into the tree, landing on his back, her weight slamming him down hard against the knotted branch. He grunted, maintaining his hold on his gun as she bent her head and bit down on his shoulder, easily tearing through the thin skin and muscle, puncturing deep. Blood filled her mouth and she recoiled, horrified.

Emma pulled back and the man rolled, falling from the tree to the ground, discharging the rifle. She felt the bullet burn through her fur and she launched herself again, her weight hitting him full in the chest. He tried to bring the rifle up, and when he couldn’t, he used it as a club, slamming it into her shoulder to drive her backward. The leopard raked her claws down his belly and gripped his throat, biting hard more out of fear than aggression.

Emma held on to his neck grimly, tears running down her face. She wanted to throw up, the bile rising. She was so distressed, she had to fight her body to keep from shifting back to her human form. The man struggled, slamming the sides of the leopard with his gun, trying to get it around to fire off a shot. Just when she was certain she couldn’t make herself hold him another moment, Jake came rushing at them.