Page 49 of Who Let The Wolves Out?

I freeze. “What’s happening?”

“Please,” he rasps. “Don’t.”

But it’s too late.

I see it. All of it.

His body convulses—violently. His back arches, fingers clawing at the dirt as his skin ripples, stretches,shifts.

His hands—no,paws—lengthen, bones twisting with sickening pops. His face contorts, jaw snapping forward, teeth elongating into fangs, ears pulling back, sharpening.

It’s horrifying.

And mesmerizing.

He gasps, a broken, inhuman sound that turns into a growl.

Fur erupts across his arms, shoulders, chest.

His shirt tears apart, useless against the beast blooming out of him.

And still I don’t move.

Because under the growl, under the horror, under all that monster, it’shim.

It’s still Jason.

I can feel it.

He stumbles to all fours, breath steaming in the air, snarling, barely able to hold still.

But he looks at me.

Right at me.

His eyes are the same.

Wild. Bright.His.

And I whisper, “Can you understand me?”

He doesn't nod.

But he doesn't bolt either.

“I—I heard you yelling. Zak said Mira’s missing. I came to help.”

Jason huffs. A low, sharp breath. He’s obviously holding something back.

I keep talking, softly, like I’m calming a scared animal. “She can’t walk well outside water. You know that. You know where she might go.”

He growls again—softer this time.

His paws dig into the dirt.

“Jason…” I whisper, voice trembling. “Can you find her?”

He looks at me for one long second.

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