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The doctor swallows and edges out of the circle. "I'm saying I can do nothing to fix this wound. I would have to use the metal rods we use on humans when the bone damage is this severe."

Georgy's brows pull together. "I thought shifters can't have steel-rod implantation."

The doctor is edging away now, tiptoeing, as if three large tigers aren't watching his every move. It's pissing me the fuck off.

"What are you saying?" I growl.

"I can fix your brother's arm—but only with a steel rod. A device that would let him move and use his hand. He could fight. He would eventually be able to write, to eat, to do everything he usually does with that arm—"

He tries to step backward. I pin him with my eyes.

"He will be able to do everything. Except shift. Ever again."

I pounce—grab him, my mouth at his throat, my fangs burning to descend, to burst out of my jaw and rip his voice box from his throat for daring to say the words.

Georgy's hand claps my back. "Calm down," he growls in my ear. "Calm the fuck down so we can help Alex."

I let go of the doctor and turn on him. "Did you hear what he just said? He said we won't be able to help Alex—"

"No," Konstantin says. "He said Alex won't be able to shift. He'll still be with us. He'll still be our brother. He just can't shift."

I look him in the eyes, nostrils flaring. "What is a life without shifting? Who would he even be? Do you know? Will he?"

"He'll be alive," Georgy says. But I can already see the pity in his eyes.

"You can't be a tiger shifter if you can't shift. If you can't shift—what are we? It's bad enough none of us have found mates. We've searched the globe. No mates to be found anywhere. We'll all be forced into loveless matches just to keep the Brusilov line going, to pass our legacy on to our children. But if you can't shift—where is the legacy they'll inherit?"

Konstantin's expression changes. He doesn't argue with me. That's worse. My brothers are accustomed to arguing with me about everything from territory to whose turn it is to host our mother's visits. If Konstantin has nothing to say, then he's thinking the same thing I am.

Aleksej will survive, but the tiger inside him may never run again.

I force myself back under control and pull away from my brothers, who have been holding me back. The doctor takes the opportunity to scurry behind his desk.

"There is one chance," he says, wiping drops of blood from his neck.

I refuse to apologize.

"In America. A young doctor doing amazing work in shifter orthopedics." He tosses a journal at me like he's afraid to put it in my hand. I catch it and skim the article as he speaks. "She has successfully grafted bone into shifters. It's still experimental, but with her advances, the grafted bone can actually stretch and bend through a shift. It's amazing work."

"Then the problem is solved," I say.

"Not quite. It's still experimental."

I narrow my eyes. "Meaning?"

He waves a hand. "So far—the article states—she's been successful with lizards."

" Lizards? " I roar. He pushes his chair back like I might come over the desk. I seriously consider it.

"She's also done some work with rabbits."

Konstantin and Georgy have to hold me back again. "Fucking rabbits?"

"I said it was experimental," the doctor explains hastily. "We don't know if it will work on tigers—or any large predators. But it may be your brother's only hope. I could consult with her. See what she says."

"How soon can she perform the procedure?" I ask.

"Ivan, I don't know that she can. Her published results are promising, but we're talking about an enormous anatomical difference. A tiger's skeletal structure has to withstand tremendous stress during transformation. Not to mention running and bounding. The graft would have to accommodate that movement without fracturing or being rejected. She may not even have a material suitable for a patient Aleksej's size."