The SUV zoomed ahead as Ellison suddenly slowed. Carly assumed that would be the end of it, but red brake lights flashed on the SUV ahead, and it made a U-turn, driving halfway off the road to do it.
“Shit,” Ellison said.
The SUV came toward them. “Go!” Tiger shouted.
Ellison said, “Hold on,” right before he slammed on the brakes and spun the car to face back the way they’d come.
He jammed on the gas, racing back toward Austin, which loomed in the distance, the buildings of UT and the capitol area hugging the horizon.
“He’s still coming,” Carly said.
“Yeah, I see that.” Ellison hunkered over the wheel, his foot down, as though he could make the car go faster by pushing it.
“Do you know who they are?” Carly asked Tiger.
“No.”
But it couldn’t be good. Carly’s body tightened as they raced on toward the city. Ellison was going plenty fast, and they might reach town in time to lose themselves in traffic.
The black SUV put on a burst of speed—no unmodified vehicle could have decreased the distance between themselves and Carly’s car so quickly. The SUV pulled up alongside them.
Another car came over the rise in the oncoming lane, straight at the black SUV. That other driver saw and swerved to move as close as possible to the shoulder, which was minuscule in this stretch.
“Son of a . . .” Ellison muttered.
The SUV pulled ahead of Ellison, clipping the front fender of Carly’s car. Ellison jerked the steering wheel sideways, but too late. Carly’s car jarred as the other vehicle bumped it, then Carly’s car hit the drop-off on the road’s shoulder, tires spinning on the dirt and grass beyond.
Ellison cranked the steering wheel, trying to pull the car out of its spin. The car skittered and danced. Tiger grabbed both headrests of the front seat, and Carly grabbed on to Tiger.
They might have made it if the SUV hadn’t turned around again. The first oncoming car went past, the driver twisting to see what was happening. The SUV timed its own pass to ram the left back end of Carly’s car.
The car lost hold of the pavement and rose into the air. Carly’s stomach rose with it, her view of the rolling hills distorted as the car flipped once, twice. She only knew that Tiger was solid beneath her, one constant in the churning world.
The car landed on its side, slid down into a ditch, and then came down on its tires, slanting with the ditch, half on grass, half in mud and dirty water. The engine hissed and spit and then all went quiet.
Tiger broke the window of the bent door and crawled out of the car, his large torso catching on the frame. He grunted and heaved, tearing apart half the door, but at last he pushed free.
Carly lay on the seat behind him, her eyes closed, blood on her face. Tiger’s heart thrummed with panic, but when he touched her, he felt the warmth of her skin, the press of her breath. Alive if not awake.
Ellison, in the front, was likewise slumped, the steering wheel propping him up. His face sported bruises, but he too breathed.
Tiger braced himself on the side of the car, leaned back in through the window, and wrapped his arms around Carly’s torso. He pulled her out, trying to be gentle, but needing to get her out.
He lifted her once he got her clear of the car and laid her on the grass about ten yards away. At least the grass was dry, warm from the morning sun, which was beaming brightly.
Tiger went back for Ellison. Ellison was Shifter and strong—he’d come around quickly—but Tiger had learned from Connor the dangers from gas or other liquids leaking from a car. Best to get away from the wreck until they knew it was safe.
He was halfway back to the car when the driver of the black SUV, which had stopped, got out and came toward them. For a second, Tiger thought the man was Walker, but quickly realized that he wasn’t. This man wore black, like Walker, and he had a similar build and close-shaved hair, but the scent was wrong.
Like Walker, the man carried a gun. Tiger didn’t know much about guns, but the one he’d broken apart last night had looked lethal, and so did this one. The man looked for a moment at Tiger, then turned and made directly for Carly.
Tiger became the Bengal in the space of three seconds. He was too far from the man, who was raising the black, square-looking gun to aim at Carly.
Tiger changed direction and sprinted for Carly. His tiger was faster than any other Shifter he’d encountered, and he landed on Carly just as the first bullets left the gun.
He felt the bullets enter him, pain blossoming, reawakening yesterday’s wounds. Unlike the slow bangs of Ethan’s pistol, though, this pistol shot so fast Tiger couldn’t count the retorts. He only prayed the bullets didn’t go through his thick tiger body and into Carly.
“Hey!” Ellison’s yell cut through the pain. “Aw, shit!”
Two more flat shots sounded, one clanking on the car, the other thudding with a meaty sound as it went into Ellison. The shooter walked to Tiger, Tiger smelling him coming.
Walked. Deliberately. Slowly. He reached Tiger where he lay dazed and in pain, dusty black boots halting by Tiger’s head. The man didn’t shoot. He stopped, watched, waited.
Then two more bullets went into Tiger’s back. Tiger gave up trying to know anything and let himself succumb to darkness.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Tiger.”
Tiger heard Carly’s voice as he rose toward consciousness, toward a mountain of pain that waited for him. They’d shot him in the basement of the research facility, repeatedly, to see how much he could take, but they at least let him rest between bullets.
“Sean.” Ellison was nearby, voice heavy. “I think you’re gonna have to bring the sword. No, not for me. For Tiger.”
Tiger heard the exclamation on the other end of Ellison’s cell phone, which must have survived the crash and the shooting. The thing was as resilient as Tiger.
“He’s waking up,” Ellison said. “Who the hell was that?”
“Hell if I know.” Carly’s voice held tears, and two hot droplets fell onto Tiger’s face. “I don’t care right now. He’s still alive. Thank God.”
Carly’s lips touched his cheek. Tiger tried to pucker his in response, showing her how much he’d learned. She didn’t stop weeping, so he must not have done very well.
“Tiger, honey, don’t move,” Carly said. “We’ll get you to a hospital. You’ll be all right.”
“I don’t know,” Ellison said. “He’s amazing, but that was about fifteen rounds from an automatic weapon. It has to have torn him apart inside.”
“Don’t say that. He’s strong. He’s a fighter.”
“We’ll help him the best we can, trust me.”
“Hang on, Tiger. Hang on.”
Carly’s light touch slid through Tiger’s pain, making his heart beat harder, his lungs draw breath. The pain became incandescent then, but Tiger was breathing, functioning. He might not need the Sword of the Guardian yet.
An odd custom, the working part of Tiger’s brain thought. The Guardian’s sword pierced the heart of the dead Shifter, or the dying one, releasing the soul and turning the body to dust. The legend, Sean had told him, said that the Sword had been created to save Shifters’ souls from a nasty, evil Fae prince. The Shifters’ bodies had crumbled to dust, and the souls of the enslaved Shifters had been released, freed to go to the Summerland. The story reassured all Shifters that, though they might be enslaved during life, they never would be in death.
Tiger had been enslaved until last winter—he hadn’t known about the seasons even to know what winter was. Now he was free, at least as free as he could be. He lived under Liam’s watchful eye, had to wear a fake Collar to fool humans into thinking he was still enslaved, and had few remote places in which he could run flat out as a tiger, but it was better than what he’d had.