Malcolm caught him mid-stride.

"I'll never let that shit happen! You got that, bastard?!"

He'd shifted mid-run—a massive black wolf slamming into Ronin's chest, jaws closing around the giant's throat. Ronin choked, clawing at the wolf's muzzle, but Malcolm didn't let go. He shook once. Twice.

Ronin went silent.

The wolf dropped him and turned to face the remaining rogues.

That's when the first twin came out of nowhere.

Not the one with the arrow in her thigh she was still dragging herself toward the trees. This was the other one. The one who'd thrown the second vial. She'd circled around through the smoke, silent as a snake, and now...