10
Darce hit sand and knew he was in trouble. Trying to force the fog of sedatives from his brain, he rolled to his feet with a roar. Talons exploded through the skin of his fingertips as he dropped into a defensive crouch, swiping at the air around him with part-shifted hands. Anything to keep the bastards away from him.
The sand was a bad thing. Sand meant he was on a one-way trip into the desert and a slug in the back of the skull. If he could keep them away, make them take anything but a headshot, he had a fighting chance.
Lights shone in his face, blinding him whatever direction he turned. Not the sun, something else. Spotlights. f**k, they had trucks around him. His heart pounded, pouring more adrenaline through his system while his wolf raged and snarled. Ready to fight. Ready to
