“You either let the bad things happen,” she said softly. “Or you don’t.”

Her eyes shone—with certainty or tears, I wasn’t sure which. “Everybody has choices. This is mine.”

And then, before any of the rest of us could sort out the exact meaning of her words, she turned on her heels and ran.

Right through the gate.

I caught up with Skylar quickly enough, but by the time I did, the gate that had separated the premises from the rest of the desert had clamped shut behind us.

Someone knew we were here.

“Stay behind me,” I hissed. She melted into my back. The sound of footsteps told me that Elliot and Bethany weren’t far behind. For better or worse now, the four of us were in this together—at least until I could find a way to get the three of them out.

“We get in, we get Zev, and we get out,” I said, revising my earlier plan. Reducing this facility to ashes and dust would have to wait. I had more to think about now than just Zev.

“It’s a search and rescue,” Skylar said, nodding. “Got it. My brother Charlie is in the marines.”

Of course he was. One of these days, Skylar and Elliot were going to run out of brothers. It was only a matter of time.

“Kali,” Bethany said, her voice a ghost of a whisper, lost to the desert night. “We have visitors.”

I expected to see the men in suits, or, worse, Rena, but instead, I saw eight pairs of blood-red eyes, glowing with hunger.

Hellhounds. Again.

“Seriously,” I said. “These things are not endangered.”

Automatically, my mind started playing out ways this fight could go. I was faster and stronger than I’d been two days earlier, but there were eight of them this time. Three adults, five juveniles—all bigger, heavier, and uglier than me.

“Stay back,” I told the others, keeping my voice low and praying that Skylar wouldn’t get any more crazy ideas and that Beth wouldn’t feel compelled to give a repeat belly-dancing performance.

I continued eyeing the beasts. “No sudden movements.”

I’d bled enough in these clothes that if given the choice, the hellhounds would probably go for me and not my friends, but probably wasn’t good enough—not when there was anyone’s life at stake but my own.

“Stay back,” I said again as I wracked my mind, trying to find a way that this didn’t end in human bloodshed. “I can handle this.”

Take out the adults first, Zev advised darkly. Then go for the pups.

Beside me, Skylar brandished her Mace. Bethany appeared to be holding a gun. As best I could tell, Elliot seemed to have come to this fight armed only with a pair of lawn shears.

This could not possibly end well.

Your humans are very strange, Zev said, as if that were the primary issue here. I could feel the hunt-lust rising in his body, the same as in mine.

Yeah, I replied, the world around me going very quiet and very still. They are.

A second before the largest male made its move, I made mine, flinging the knife in my hand and listening for the satisfying thunk it made as it tore through flesh and hit bone, knocking my target back and off its feet.

The remaining hellhounds growled and began circling. I kept my body between the others and the monsters, willing those beady red eyes to follow my movements, mark my scent.

The one I’d felled made a high-pitched gargling sound, and it stirred something inside of me.

Thirsty.

Now.

I leapt the moment I heard Zev’s whisper, but this time, as my body collided with a hellhound’s, I wasn’t the one who went flying backward.

It did.

Its teeth tore into my flesh. My knife tore into its. The smell of sulfur and blood propelled me onward, as familiar and comforting as towels straight out of the dryer. Sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, I skewered the hound on top of me and was rewarded by its mate trying to detach my head from my body.

Behind me, one of the pups launched itself at Elliot. Skylar maced it.

I’d barely registered that fact before the beast I was fighting reared up, sending its massive skull directly into my chin. My head snapped back. I tasted blood in my mouth, but somehow, my dagger found its way to the beast’s eye.

That was when I lost myself to the moment, the weapons, the fight. There was a rhythm to it, unbreakable and swift. I felt like I was dancing. It rained blood.

As I dispatched the one I’d stabbed in the eye, the largest juvenile—nearly full-grown—came at me from behind, snapping its massive jaw and nearly bisecting me at the waist. But I was too fast for it, and it only got a piece.

A tiny piece.

I thrust my sword arm backward, catching another one of the beasts straight through its heart. Black-red blood bubbled to the surface, but the sound of a human scream kept me from taking it—any of it—for myself.

Bethany.

I whirled around, expecting to see her impaled on razor-sharp teeth, but instead, I saw her staring in horror at Skylar.

She was lying on the ground—very still. She was bleeding.

One, two, three, four.

I couldn’t remember how many I’d killed. However many it was, it wasn’t enough. Elliot had managed to jam his shears back into the throat of the smallest pup, but it was still growling. I leapt for Skylar, but one of the remaining hounds took a swipe at my legs.

Inhuman rage bubbled up inside of me. In the bat of an eyelash, I had the beast’s head—as broad as a truck tire—in my hands. I pressed them together, my muscles tensing to the point that I thought they might snap, the beast’s bones cracking under the onslaught.

I met its eyes, and then, I tightened my grip and twisted.

A moment later, I flung its limp body to the side like a rag doll and eyed the remaining hellhounds.

There were two left—just two. They must have seen it in my eyes—the hunger, the rage—because they ran. With their tails between their legs, they lumbered off into the distance. I wanted to follow, but I didn’t. I made my way back to Skylar instead.

Her head was lying to one side. She was pale, bleeding, deathly still, and I froze.

I’d known she was holding something back—about tonight, about this place, about coming here, helping me. Her eyes shining, she’d told me that this was her choice.

No, I thought. Oh, God. No.

I knelt next to her and felt for a pulse.

“Are they gone?” she asked, opening one eye.

Relief—bittersweet and warm—surged through my body, and I jerked my hand away from her neck. “You’re okay?”

“I got clawed a little,” she said. “Playing dead seemed like a really good idea at the time.”

“Playing dead?” Elliot repeated, and I saw in his eyes that he’d bought her act as much as I had. From the moment I’d seen her lying there, I’d been sure that the worst had happened, that I’d killed her by not being fast enough, strong enough, smart enough.

“I’m fine,” Skylar said. “And even if I wasn’t—I chose this. I knew what it was going to be like, and it was my choice to make. Deal.”

For a corpse, she was starting to get pretty mouthy.

“Come on,” I said, wishing more than ever that I could send them back. “Let’s go.”

We moved forward, step by careful step, me on point and the others bringing up the rear. The world was silent, absolutely silent all around us, until I heard Skylar whisper a single word into the back of my head.

“Duck.”

One word. Just one whispered word—but I did it. I fell to a crouching position the second before some kind of spear came whizzing by my head, close enough that I could feel the breeze it left in its wake. Close enough that if I hadn’t ducked, it would have taken off my head.

I should have heard it coming. I should have smelled it: meat and day-old blood and something sickly sweet. Without thinking, I grabbed hold of the closest hellhound body. I dug my fingers into its hide and pulled, ripping off a chunk of flesh.

In one smooth motion, I stood, brandishing the hide as a shield.

“Okay, now that is disgusting,” Bethany said.

I didn’t reply. I was too busy waiting for the next shot—and tracing its trajectory back to the thing that had shot it.