A chorus of shouts and excited words had them at a run,
moving through a crowd that had gone from a stagnant
bunch of grazing animals to a near stampede of movement
in no specific direction.
Charlie had his service revolver drawn, cradled in one
hand, the front of the barrel leveled at the man standing at
the front of the dais.
“Sir, Sylvan City Police, put your hands up!”
“Leave me alone! He’s going to get what he deserves.”
The man pulled back the hammer of his handgun and the
room seemed to go silent, letting the metallic click echo in
the room.
Devlin looked down and saw that he held his gun as
well. Mirroring Charlie’s stance, but from a different vantage
point, he covered the scene just as Mayor Lundin entered the
fray.
“Sir, put the gun down and we’ll talk.”
The man shook his head, waving his free hand as if
shooing flies. “No more talking,” he shook the gun at the
Mayor, “you’ve done plenty of talking, Mayor.” The man
made the title sound like a curse. “It’s about time someone
took action.”
As Devlin watched, the older man took a step forward,
earning him a number of shouts and warnings from his
staffers. He could also see a couple of uniformed officers
hanging back. The lack of responsibility angered Devlin,
made his vision swim with rage for a moment. “Assholes.”
“Sir,” the Mayor continued to talk, and Charlie tried to
but in.
“Patrick, this isn’t the time to try to save him, he’s got a
gun pointed at you!”
The Mayor side stepped, holding up a hand in the direction
of the gunman and one in Charlie’s direction. “I’m sure we can
get you to put down the gun, talk to me. Whatever it is that
happened to you, sir, I’m sure we can figure out how to fix it.”
“Fix it?” The man surged forward a few steps until he
had the muzzle of the gun pressed up against the Mayor’s
chest. “Like they’re going to fix you when I put a hole
through your heart?”
“Sir!”
Devlin could feel Charlie’s agitation like a touch on his
shoulder, shaky and trembling. “Charlie, I can take him.”
“Back off, Devlin.”
“Together we can make this work, sir,” the Mayor just
wasn’t going to shut up. “Give me the gun and I can assure
you that no one will file charges-”
“You’re already putting a choke-hold on the police,
hmm?”
Devlin saw the concern and confusion on the Mayor’s
face. He knew from the involuntary signs that the Mayor
was giving off, he had no idea what the man was saying.
“And maybe,” the man continued to rave, poking the
Mayor in the chest with his gun, “you just need to know
what it feels like…”
He knew.
Before the man even moved, Devlin knew what he was
going to do and turned his head.
“…to lose everything.”
His tiger roared inside of him, clawing at his insides in a
desperate bid for freedom, but Devlin could barely think.
Everything he felt was instinct.
The woman standing beside the Mayor, the one person
who hadn’t run away as soon as the man brandished his
gun, was everything.
His everything.
His mate.
And the man who held a gun on her, turned his
murderous intent on the woman whose loss would reduce
Devlin to a cold-killing machine, gave Devlin a taste of what
it was like to lose everything. And Devlin wasn’t going to
have any of it, not while he could stop him.
He didn’t think about the consequences of his shift.
Didn’t care about the roomful of people, the dozen reporters
in the room, or the cameras.
Devlin was suddenly all claws, fur, and murderous intent
of his own as he leapt through the air.