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Connell cracked an eyelid and winced. The sun was in his eyes, blinding him.
“He’s waking up.” The flare of light moved away, and he realized someone had been shining a penlight in his eyes.
His father appeared at his side. Derrick and Charles, another member of his Special Forces unit, were holding him up. The chief looked like hell. “Son, are you all right?”
No. He felt like s**t. “I’ll live. But you look like you got hit with a train,” he said, his voice dry and cracked.
He tried to get up, but Kiera, their local doctor, tsked and pushed him back down.
“Ow,” he complained when the skin on his stomach stretched underneath a thick layer of bandages.
“I think you’ve got a chance at shifting now,” Douglas said, squinting at him. “You feel like pack again.”
“What?” Connell was sta
