Mila reached out. Weakly fisted Dominic’s shirt. “White male. Blue tee. Black jeans. Dreadlocks. Get him.” And darkness fell.

Dominic caught Mila as her legs gave out. “Fuck.” Panic racing through him, he gave her a little shake even as he held her gently. “Mila? Mila!” Hearing the squeak of rubber on tile, he looked to see a male of Mila’s description running down the aisle like his ass was on fire. Dominic whipped out his phone and called Tate, who answered fast.

“Yep?”

“Some bastard just drugged Mila.” Dominic could smell it on her now. He fired off a quick description of the male. “He’ll be coming out of the grocery store any second now. Get the fucker, Tate. Shit, her lips are blue.”

“Take Mila to the deli section—one of our healers works there.”

Pocketing the phone, Dominic scooped up Mila and ran. Her heartbeat was slowing, faltering, and his own was pounding with fear. His wolf paced, anxious and enraged.

Her eyes wide, a familiar graying woman—Helena, he remembered—dashed out from behind the deli counter. “What’s happened?” Her nose wrinkled. “Drugged.” She put her hand on Mila’s head, and he almost felt a surge of power in the air.

The hairs on his arms and nape stood on end, but his focus was on the female in his arms. Soon her heartbeat stabilized, her lips lost their blue tinge, and the color came back to her face. But it didn’t chase away his fear. Didn’t give him even a hint of relief.

Mila’s lids fluttered open, and her big blue eyes stared up at him and the healer. Realization flashed across her face, and she gripped Dominic’s arm. “Did you get him?”

“Tate will get him.” Dominic wanted that to be enough for him, but his muscles trembled with the need to hunt the motherfucker who’d drugged her himself. His wolf was pushing Dominic to track him down and make him pay.

“I have her, Dominic,” Helena told him. “She’s fine, just a little groggy. You go help Tate and the others get whoever did this to her. They probably have him by now, of course, but I’m sure you’ll only be satisfied when you see that for yourself.”

Mila nodded, sitting upright. “I’m fine. Woozy and shaky, but fine. Go.”

Dominic pressed a fast kiss to her mouth and then shot the healer a glare. “I’m trusting you with her.”

“And I’m trusting you to avenge her,” said Helena.

At yet another urging from Mila, he left her with Helena and rushed out of the store. He’d expected to find the male pinned to the ground by a member of the Olympus Pride while other cats gathered around him. Dominic had never fucking suspected he’d find the bastard standing in the middle of the road, holding a long claw to the throat of a crying toddler he’d seemingly plucked off the street.

A sobbing woman was alternating between trying to reassure the child and begging the male to let her little girl go. Vinnie, Tate, Luke, and the Olympus enforcers had formed a loose circle around him.

Mila’s attacker yelled something at Vinnie that Dominic couldn’t quite make out. Vinnie gave a slow shake of his head. Cursing, the male glanced in every direction. Dominic could imagine what he was thinking. There would be no getting past the cats. No going right or left. Which meant the only place he had to go was . . . up.

Just as that thought crossed Dominic’s mind, the male’s head tipped back, and his frantic gaze cut to the roof of the nearest store. The pallas cat standing in front of the store narrowed his eyes, as if guessing what the male was about to do, but the toddler was flung at him with such force that the cat staggered backward as he caught the child.

Mila’s attacker leaped onto a nearby car, launched himself at the building, and began to climb the gutter pipe. Dominic sprinted across the street and into the alley beside the store. The iron steps of the fire escape clanged as he raced up them two at a time.

As Dominic reached the top of the three-story building, Mila’s attacker skidded to a stop on the flat, concrete roof. He might have turned to run the other way, but some of the pallas cats had followed him up the gutter pipe. More pallas cats were dashing up the fire escape that Dominic had used, which meant the bastard was boxed in. And he knew it.

The breeze fanned over Dominic, bringing with it the scents of sweat, panic, sun-warmed concrete, and cheetah. Thirsty for the fucker’s blood, his wolf snarled, bracing himself to pounce.

The cheetah glanced around. There was nowhere to hide. Nothing to use as a weapon. And he was once again surrounded. As the cheetah’s glance slid to the rear of the building, Dominic knew he was thinking of jumping. Fuck that.

With red-hot rage and adrenaline surging through his veins, Dominic flew at the fucker. They collided in a flurry of brutal blows. Punched. Kicked. Dodged. Weaved.

Snarls of anger and grunts of pain rang through the air, joining the shouts of encouragement coming from the onlookers who were egging Dominic on.

Pain rippled through him as the cheetah dealt him a swift, hard blow to the kidney that almost had him doubling over. The guy had a fist like fucking granite. Dominic twisted to block the next punch with his shoulder and then struck the bastard with a solid uppercut. The cheetah’s head snapped back as he double-blinked.

Then they collided again.

The cheetah showed no mercy. He slammed that meaty fist into Dominic’s temple, dealt him a harsh blow to the solar plexus, kicked his thigh so hard he almost snapped Dominic’s femur.

Adrenaline dimming the pain, Dominic fought just as mercilessly, crashing his fist into the cheetah’s jaw, slashing out with his claws, and ramming the heel of his palm into the asshole’s nose, smiling grimly at the resulting crack.

The cheetah’s hand snapped around Dominic’s wrist when the wolf swung at him again. Dominic didn’t try to pull free. He twisted slightly, slamming his arm against the bastard’s throat. The cheetah expelled a pained grunt and then staggered backward.

Even as their breaths came quick and shallow, neither slowed or gave any openings. The battle was fast and chaotic. The cheetah was literally battling for his life; he had to know that even if he defeated Dominic, the pallas cats would immediately pounce unless he got away fast.

His eyes gleaming with pain and anger, the cheetah swung his hips and kicked out, landing a solid strike to Dominic’s already swollen knee. Son of a bitch. Seething, Dominic slammed his fist into the fucker’s collarbone with every bit of strength he had. There was a nauseating snap, and the cheetah’s arm sagged.

Taking advantage, Dominic lunged, crashing his body into the other male, who hit the concrete hard. Using his knees, Dominic pinned the cheetah’s arms down while he pummeled his face with his fists over and over and over.

Bones cracked. Blood spurted. Rage and pain scented the air.

The cheetah pulled some fancy move, trying to flip Dominic off. It didn’t work. The big cat was too weak. Dominic just kept dealing him one ruthless blow after the other. His knuckles burned from clipping his skin on the cheetah’s fangs, but Dominic didn’t stop. Didn’t ease up on this bastard who’d almost taken Mila from him. There was a pounding in his ears so loud, it almost drowned out the gurgle of blood and the sound of flesh slamming into flesh.

“Dominic.” The voice was male. Flat. Seemed far away. “Dominic, he’s not getting up, man. He’s out. You hear me? He’s out cold. Mila needs you.”