Page 37 of Crowbar

She barked once and burrowed into me. The weight of her was grounding. Real. Something to focus on that wasn’t the carnage behind me or the massive wolf that was slowly shrinking back into a man.

Bones cracked again. Fur receded. When I finally looked up, Crowbar was crouched in front of me, human again and completely naked.

“Spencer.” He reached for me slowly, like I might bolt. “You with me?”

“You’re a werewolf.” The words came out flat. Stating a fact, not asking a question.

“Wolf shifter.”

“And you just killed Ken.”

“Yeah.”

“In my apartment.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” I pulled Noodles closer. She licked my chin, and I buried my face in her fur. “Okay. That’s… Okay.”

Nothing about this was okay. Ken was dead on my floor. Crowbar had shifted into a wolf and torn him apart like tissue paper. Wolf shifters were real. My boyfriend was one of them. And somehow none of that was hitting the way it should have because I couldn’t stop thinking about how Ken would never hurt me again.

Never grab my arm. Never show up at my door. Never count down restraining orders or kidnap me at gunpoint. He was dead and I was alive and Crowbar was kneeling in front of me covered in blood, waiting for me to say something.

“Is he really dead?” I asked.

“Yeah, sweetheart. He’s dead.”

“Good.” I meant it. “That’s good.”

Crowbar’s expression softened. He reached out again, and this time I didn’t pull away. His hand cupped the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone.

“You’re okay,” he said. “You’re safe now.”

“You’re naked.”

“Happens when I shift.”

“Noted.” My brain was processing information in the wrong order. Werewolf. Dead body. Naked boyfriend. The list kept rearranging itself, and nothing made sense.

Noodles squirmed in my arms and licked Crowbar’s hand. He scratched behind her ears, and she leaned into the touch like this was completely normal. Maybe for her it was. Maybe she’d always known what he was.

“You can turn into a wolf,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why you call yourself Crowbar. It’s not your real name.”

“It’s my road name. What the pack calls me.”

“Pack.” The word clicked into place. “The other guys. Preacher. Diesel. All of them.”

“All of us.”

Behind Crowbar, the three bikers stood near the door. Watching. Waiting. Diesel was smiling, and it wasn’t the kind of smile that made fun. It was warm. Almost proud.

“Welcome to the pack, kid,” he said.

Riot nodded. “About time Crowbar found his mate.”