Page 64 of Primal

“He’s dead,” another person announced. “Know the guy, Kyle?”

“Shit, that’s Daryl Kobchek’s brother,” Dad said. “I don’t know his name, but he was at the trial.”

Cody eased off me, and I looked up. The sheriff had arrived. Both he and my dad had their guns out, aiming at the body on the floor by the shattered coffee table.

“Neil. He’s always been vocal about how hisbrother was framed. Angry, too, but I never imagined this.”

“Dad?” I asked, and he turned to me. As if he knew the threat was gone.

“No!” My dad shouted in horror when he saw me. He dropped to his knees beside us. “Riley!”

“Wha–” I looked down and sucked in a breath. I was covered in blood.

“Not…hers,” Cody supplied, his voice no more than a gasp. His hand covered a wound in his chest, blood seeping from it.

“Cody!” I screamed, throwing myself at him. Oh my God, he’d been shot.

“Hold up,” the sheriff said evenly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Give him some space.”

“He needs help!” I cried, shrugging off the contact.

“Looks like that bullet punctured a lung.”

Punctured a–

Cody struggled to breathe–each inhale was a rasping, sucking sound, and the exhales barely moved. My eyes flooded with tears. Shock turned me ice cold. Oh God, he was dying! I yelled at him and told him it was over and now I would lose him.

“No!” I cried, settling at his side but afraid to touch him. “Cody…please.”

Then I remembered Cody had said bullets didn’t hurt him although he lookedreallyhurt to me.

I looked up at both men. “Call an ambulance.”

The sheriff shook his head. “He’s going to be okay without one.”

Was it really true? He wasn’t requesting medical help on his radio, so he must know something.

“He’ll… he’ll be all right?” My voice was clogged and tears streaked my face. I wouldn’t have thought I would have any left after breaking up with Cody, but it turned out, thinking he might die produced another storehouse. I’d called him instead of my dad. Maybe I shouldn’t have because he’d come in without a gun. Without a bulletproof vest.

“He said bullets don’t hurt him,” my dad said, but he looked uncertain as he stood over us. I had no idea when the two of them talked without trying to kill each other. “He knew going in what would probably happen.”

The sheriff nodded, calm. He knelt beside Cody and ripped open the uniform shirt to reveal the wound. Blood covered his skin and oozed from the hole in his chest. “Can you shift, bud?”

Cody wheezed. Sweat coated his skin and he looked pale. Too pale.

“Shift,” the sheriff ordered in a deep, commanding tone that sent a shiver down my spine.

There was a tearing of fabric as Cody’s pants split, and then he was in wolf form, panting, blood soaking his fur.

“Damn,” my dad muttered, his eyes wide, but he didn’t sound surprised.

“Will he be all right?” I asked again, flicking my gaze between the sheriff and Cody. God, I just needed someone to tell me he would live, so I knew I could go on living, too.

With Cody.

“Yes. He’ll heal faster in wolf form.”

“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “It doesn’t matter why you want to be with me. You do, and I know it. Please live. Keep breathing.”