Chapter Seven
Ryan jolted awake to the sound of glass shattering somewhere in the house. His heart slammed into his throat. For a moment he couldn’t remember where he was, why he was naked in an unfamiliar bed, why someone else's heat radiated against his back.
Then it all came rushing back. Grayson’s house. The threats. Everything that had happened before they'd fallen asleep.
Shouting came from outside. Male voices, harsh and aggressive.
The sound of something heavy hitting the side of the house made Ryan flinch against Grayson, who was already moving, already pulling away from him and rolling out of bed with a speed that seemed impossible for someone who'd been asleep seconds ago.
“Stay here.” Grayson’s voice came out different. Lower. Almost growling. He was reaching for his jeans, yanking them on with movements so fast Ryan could barely track them. “Don't leave this room. Do you understand me?”
“What’s happening?” Ryan sat up, clutching the sheet to his lap even though that seemed ridiculous given what they'd done an hour ago. His hands were shaking. The fear he’d managed to forget came roaring back, worse than before. “Is it them? The people who sent the text?”
More shouting. Closer now. Ryan could hear Reese's voice, deep and commanding, yelling something Ryan couldn’t make out. Then came another crash, this one loud enough to rattle the window in its frame.
“Stay here,” Grayson repeated. He was already moving toward the door, his feet bare, his torso still naked. “Lock the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone except me.”
“Wait, you can’t just—” But Grayson was gone, disappearing into the hallway at a run. His footsteps pounded down the stairs, impossibly fast, impossibly quiet despite his size.
Ryan sat frozen in the bed for approximately three seconds. The sheet was still clutched in his hands. His heart was trying to beat its way past his ribs. More sounds came from outside. Snarling now, actual snarling, like animals fighting, like something from a nature documentary about predators.
Stay here, Grayson had said. Lock the door. Don't leave.
Ryan was already scrambling out of bed, his legs tangling in the sheet. He hit the floor on his hands and knees, the hardwood cold against his bare skin. His clothes were somewhere in the darkness. His jeans. His shirt. Where had Grayson thrown them?
His hands found fabric. He yanked on his boxer briefs, hopping on one foot as he tried to get them up his legs. This was not the time to be naked. Whatever was happening outside, whatever had made Grayson’s voice go all wrong and dangerous, Ryan needed to be dressed for it.
The snarling got louder. Closer. Ryan could hear it through the closed window, through the walls. It didn’t sound like dogs. It sounded bigger. Meaner. He found his jeans and nearly fell over trying to get them on. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The button took three tries to fasten.
More shouting. Colton's voice this time, yelling something that might have been a warning. Then a sound Ryan had never heard before in his life. A roar. Deep and rumbling and so loud it seemed to vibrate through the floorboards.
Ryan’s shirt was inside out. He didn’t care. He yanked it over his head while stumbling toward the door. His feet were still bare, but there wasn't time to find his shoes. Wasn't time to do anything except move, get downstairs, figure out what was happening.
The hallway was dark. Empty. Ryan could hear sounds coming from the first floor. Movement. Something heavy hitting something else. His feet carried him toward the stairs even as his brain screamed at him to go back, lock the door, do what Grayson had told him.
But what if Grayson needed help? What if the people who'd sent the text had shown up with guns or weapons or something worse? Ryan couldn’t just hide in a bedroom while people got hurt trying to protect him.
He reached the top of the stairs and looked down into chaos.
The front door stood open. The cool night air rushed in, carrying scents that made Ryan’s stomach turn. Something wild and musky and wrong. Through the doorway he could see shapes moving in the yard. Large shapes. Too large to be human.
Ryan’s feet moved down the stairs without his permission. One step. Two. His hand gripped the railing so hard his knuckles went white. The sounds from outside were clearer now. Snarling and snapping and those roars that seemed to shake the house.
He reached the bottom of the stairs just as Grayson crossed his line of vision. Moving toward the open front door. Still shirtless, still barefoot. His shoulders were broader than they'd been upstairs. Something was wrong with his proportions. With the way he moved.
Then Grayson’s body did something impossible.
It didn’t break or crack or shift slowly. One moment he was human, tall and muscled and recognizable, and the next moment, he wasn't.
The change happened so fast Ryan’s brain couldn’t process it.
Couldn’t make sense of what his eyes were seeing.
Where Grayson had been there was now a lion.
Massive and golden, with a dark mane that seemed to absorb the light from the hallway.
The lion's muscles bunched and released as it moved, each step silent despite its size.
Ryan’s legs gave out. He sat down hard on the bottom step, his mouth open, no sound coming out.
This wasn't real. This couldn’t be real.
People didn’t turn into lions. That wasn't a thing that happened in the actual world where Ryan lived and worked and worried about normal things like bills and whether he’d remembered to water his plants.
But the lion was there. Right in front of him. Moving toward the open door with purpose, its tail lashing behind it.
Another shape moved in Ryan’s peripheral vision.
Reese. Except Reese wasn't Reese anymore either. He morphed into a polar bear right in front of Ryan’s eyes.
White and enormous, easily twice the size of the lion that had been Grayson.
The bear’s head swung toward Ryan for a fraction of a second, small eyes finding him, and then it was gone, following the lion out into the yard.
Ryan’s brain was trying to shut down. Trying to reject what he was seeing, filing it under hallucination or dream or mental breakdown.
But he could smell that wild animal scent flooding the house.
Could hear their breathing, heavy and animal.
Could see the way their muscles moved under fur and skin.
His hands pressed against his mouth. He might have been screaming. He couldn’t tell. Everything had gone muffled and strange, like someone had wrapped his head in cotton.
Get up, something in his brain whispered. Move. You need to move.
Ryan’s legs obeyed before his conscious mind caught up. He stumbled toward the kitchen, drawn by some instinct he didn’t understand. The window. He needed to see. Needed to understand what was happening, even though understanding seemed impossible.
The kitchen was dark except for the light spilling in from outside. Ryan pressed himself against the counter and looked through the window above the sink.
The backyard was full of animals.
The lion prowled near the tree line, its movements fluid and predatory. The polar bear stood near the house, massive head lowered, teeth bared. And there were others. Smaller shapes, moving in and out of the shadows. Their forms were wrong somehow. Too hunched. Too angular.
Hyenas, Ryan’s brain supplied. Those were hyenas.
Except hyenas didn’t live in this part of the world. Didn’t exist anywhere near here. But there they were, circling the larger predators with cautious aggression. Their laughter echoed across the yard, high-pitched and manic.
Malik and Colton were there too. Still human. Still recognizable. They moved between the larger animals with weapons Ryan couldn’t identify. Something that looked like metal rods. They were yelling, coordinating, but Ryan couldn’t make out the words through the glass.
One of the hyenas lunged at the lion. The lion that had been Grayson.
Ryan’s hands pressed harder against his mouth, trying to hold in the sound that wanted to escape.
The lion moved faster than anything that size should be able to move.
It caught the hyena mid-leap, massive jaws closing around its throat.
The hyena made a sound Ryan would hear in his nightmares. Then it was gone. Dissolving into shadow or running or something Ryan’s eyes couldn’t track. The other hyenas scattered, their laughter turning to yelps. They moved as a pack toward the fence, scrambling over it with unnatural speed.
The lion roared again. The sound went through Ryan’s body like electricity. He wanted to run. Wanted to hide. Wanted to wake up in his own bed and discover this had all been some elaborate stress dream brought on by death threats and fear.
But he couldn’t move. Could only watch as the hyenas disappeared into the darkness beyond the fence. As the polar bear lumbered back toward the house, its white fur stained with something dark. As the lion's head turned, scanning the yard for remaining threats.
Then the animals were changing again.
The same impossible transformation, too fast to follow.
The polar bear became Reese. The lion became Grayson.
Both of them were naked, standing in the yard like this was completely normal.
Like they hadn’t just been animals. Like Ryan’s entire understanding of reality hadn’t just shattered into a million pieces.
Grayson said something to Reese. His mouth moved, but Ryan couldn’t hear the words through the window and the rushing sound in his ears. Reese nodded and headed toward the back of the house. Grayson turned toward the kitchen window.
Their eyes met through the glass.
Ryan saw the moment Grayson realized he was there, saw his expression shift from predator to something almost human. Almost normal. Except nothing about this was normal and Ryan’s brain was still trying to process what he’d seen and failing spectacularly.
Grayson moved toward the house. Toward the kitchen door. Toward Ryan.
Ryan’s legs finally remembered how to work. He stumbled backward, away from the window, away from the door. His hip hit the kitchen table and pain flared, but he barely felt it. His hands were still shaking. His whole body was shaking. The tremors ran through him like earthquakes.
The back door opened. Grayson stepped inside, still naked, his skin marked with dirt and what might have been blood. He moved slowly, his hands held out like he was approaching a spooked animal.
“Ryan.” His voice was careful. Controlled. Nothing like the growl it had been upstairs. “I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?”
Ryan tried to speak. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His lungs felt too small, like someone had wrapped them in plastic wrap. The kitchen tilted sideways. Or maybe he was tilting. He couldn’t tell anymore.
“Breathe,” Grayson repeated. He was closer now. Close enough that Ryan could smell him. Blood and earth and that wild-animal scent that had filled the house. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Come on.”
Ryan’s lungs obeyed without his permission. Air rushed in, too fast, making him dizzy. He tried to slow it down. Tried to match the rhythm Grayson was demonstrating with his own exaggerated breaths.
“That’s it.” Grayson’s hands were on his shoulders now. Warm and solid and human. Except they weren't human earlier. They'd been paws.