Roxy shifted into her hybrid form then, and standing up, she stood nose to nose with the agent.

  "Do you have any idea what I am?" she growled loudly.

  "Yeah," the agent nodded, "pregnant. And you're not going to join this fight! Understand?"

  Roxy growled, but Jolene put her hand on Roxy's shoulder.

  "Rox, he's right. And Sean probably would tear him to pieces if anything happened to one of us."

  "Besides, that airplane is built like a tank," the agent continued, "and it's only an airplane, we've got more. But there's only one of you." The agent paused and looked around, then smiled, "I'd say six, but I'm afraid of what you all would do to me. Now let's get out of here! We'll leave a team under cover inside here, as well as the snipers on the roof."

  Roxy shifted back and sighed, "Okay, let's go."

  #

  "They're buying the diversion!" Tank whispered into his radio. "I can see they're all withdrawing to protect Air Force One as it moves off."

  "Okay," responded Quick, the Prime team leader. "Take your team and keep selling them on the idea that you're after someone in the jet."

  "Roger that, Quick!" Tank said and, signaling his squad and the dozen lycans they'd commandeered from those who'd actually made it here, they pressed their attack. He was letting the no-names go first; if they got killed, he really didn't care. They weren't Primes, after all. He was a little upset that so few had made it this far, but well, you worked with what you had, not what you wanted.

  Tank was going to kill them all once the job was done anyway, so there'd be some evidence left behind that this assassination had been carried off by a group of lycans. So it really didn't matter in the long run. They were just being used for a diversion, after all.

  Quick looked around at the rest of the team; except for Tank and the other five that made up his small squad, they were all here. Eighteen of the finest lycan warriors that any council had ever had.

  "You know, I'm almost sorry they're setting us free," Fist, one of his better hand-to-hand fighters, said with a chuckle. "Can you imagine the kind of reward they'd have given us for killing a president?"

  "I hear ya'!" replied Slice, one of their knife experts. "We'd be knee deep in bitches!"

  "Let's worry about the rewards we might have had after we've finished the job," Quick growled. "Otherwise we won't be here to collect any of them!"

  "Right, Quick," Fist said, and they all nodded.

  "Are we sure the target's in that building?" asked Shaft, another of the wolves.

  "We got a man inside; he's wearing a magical beacon, just go where I say."

  "Do we know who he is?"

  "Nope."

  "Then how do we know who to spare?"

  "We're not sparing anyone. If he's still in there when we arrive, he dies. Everybody dies, got that?"

  All of the wolves nodded and smiled at each other. It always made the job easier when you didn't have to worry about shooting the wrong human.

  "Good. Now, let's go!"

  #

  "Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave the building," the agent in charge told Sean.

  "Tell me where my wives are first," Sean said, looking around. Other than the four agents in the room, the area appeared to be deserted. "And are you sure just the four of you can hold this building?"

  "Quite sure, Sir. All civilians are being evacuated to the gatehouse. Your wives should be there by now."

  Sean's nostrils flared suddenly as he took in the unique scent of blood; looking down the corridor across from the one he'd come in, he could see what looked like a liquid spill on the floor. Turning his attention to the agent nearest him, Sean noticed there were a few small flecks on his combat armor.

  Which he couldn't smell.

  He suddenly realized he couldn't smell any of the agents.

  "Good dog!" Sean said with a smile and for a brief instant the agent by him grinned.

  "Gotcha!" Sean growled, grabbed the 'agent', and pulled him close as the others raised their weapons and opened fire. Two things were immediately apparent; the first was that the 'agent' was actually a werewolf.

  The second was that he was wearing a collar and a tag!

  Backing into the corridor he'd just vacated, Sean used the body of the struggling werewolf as a shield. His buddies apparently didn't have any problems with shooting him in the back, and from the way he was starting to jerk, Sean had a suspicion that the body armor he was wearing wasn't soaking up the damage anymore.

  The werewolf started to shift then, so Sean just lifted him up a little higher and ripped his throat out with his teeth. He'd already taken enough damage from his buddies that the bite took him out of the fight, even if it didn't kill him. Ripping the rifle out of the werewolf's grasp, Sean ducked back behind the doorframe into cover. Dropping the body, he started to take shots at the other werewolves, causing all of them to dive for cover. Sean got shot in the back then, twice. Turning around, he saw the two agents outside the door down the hall were shooting at him.

  "They're imposters, you assholes!" Sean growled. "Knock it off!"

  One of them took another shot, so dropping to his knees, Sean grabbed the body and flung it down the hall at them. The werewolf had been shifting when Sean ripped his throat out, so he was still shifting, if slowly, and his throat was healing as well.

  One look at that, and the agent who'd been shooting at him emptied his entire magazine into the werewolf's head, no doubt killing him. Then they both dropped prone and took cover as well.

  Sean turned back to the attackers just in time to see a grenade coming his way. Reaching out, he batted it back and then followed it up with a couple of shots from his rifle as the grenade went off with a loud bang, making his ears ring briefly as he was peppered with shrapnel.

  The werewolves got it worse than he did, but they were also wearing armor, and Sean's healing abilities were currently at their limit after the shots he hadn't been able to block with the body he'd been holding. Unfortunately his power levels were still low from dealing with the earlier attack, the First having been forced to drain a good deal of Sean's power to deal with all those wolves.

  Moving back, Sean ducked into a doorway and got himself further out of the line of fire.

  "Call backup!" he yelled down the hallway.

  "Our radios are being jammed!" one of the agents yelled back.

  Sean swore again, then leaning out of the doorway, he fired a volley of shots at one of the werewolves who was advancing. They'd given up all pretense of being agents at this point and were in their hybrid forms, and because they had necklaces and tags, their body armor had resized to fit them!

  Sean swore at that; they were using his own creations against him!

  'Can't you turn it all off?' the First asked him.

  "I have to be touching them," Sean mumbled as he raised the rifle he was holding. They had to get by him to get to the president, and they had to do it now while they had the chance. He expected a charge at any moment, and he wasn't disappointed when two grenades came flying down the hallway.

  Ducking back behind the wall, Sean waited for the grenades to go off, then moving back to the doorway, he started shooting immediately. Sure enough, the three werewolves were there, and as the slide on his rifle locked open, Sean was left with no option other than to fight them hand-to-hand.

  Using the rifle as a pike, Sean ran it through the eye and out the back of the head of one of the werewolves, causing him to spasm and drop to the floor as Sean let go of the rifle. Grabbing the next one, Sean unlocked the encryption on his tag, then erased the program that converted silver on it as the werewolf drew his pistol and shot Sean in the chest.

  Grunting, Sean grabbed the gun with the pistol and spun the two of them around, causing the werewolf he was grappling with to get shot in the back. From the scream of pain and the sudden look of surprise, it was obvious that the other werewolf had been using silver bullets.

  "I made those tags, assholes!" Sean growled and threw the dying wolf at his partner, who was talking into his radio and still trying to shoot Sean. Sean then attacked the one on the radio and grappled with him just long enough to 'fix' his tag as well. Sean then pushed him away and kicked the one on the floor, who had finally managed to pull the rifle barrel out of his head.

  The agents down at the other end of the hall must have still been shooting, because the one Sean had just fixed the tag on suddenly screamed as he got hit with a silver bullet and fell to the floor, convulsing. That gave Sean time to pick up one of the rifles on the floor, stick it in the other wolf's face, and empty the entire magazine.

  Just then someone opened fire down the hallway from the lobby, and four hand grenades came flying down the hallway.

  Swearing, Sean dove into an open doorway for cover. Just how many of these assholes were there?

  #

  "What's going on out there, Jeff?" the president asked his lead bodyguard.

  "It sounds like werewolves are attacking us, Sir!" Jeff said, looking back at the president apprehensively. "They're having a hard time taking them down, too. The silver ammunition doesn't seem to be working."

  "Tell them to concentrate their fire on one at a time," Carl spoke up from where he was now standing by the conference table, facing the door.

  "Huh?"

  "Most lycans can only take so much damage before they go unconscious or die."

  "Where'd you learn that?" the president asked.

  "Sean's people taught me," Carl said.

  "Do you really think they're after him?" Jeff asked.

  "No, they're after the president," George said.

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because," George said, and drawing out a pistol he shot Jeff, Bill, the other two agents in the room, and Carl in quick succession. "I ordered it."

  The president ducked under the table, and George's gun continued to fire as the three Secret Service agents and Carl struggled, trying to return fire as they fell to the floor.

  "Don't bother, boys. These bullets are enchanted and you'll all be dead soon enough. I'm just making sure it looks like there was a big firefight in here." George laughed and shot Bill and the other two agents again.

  "What the hell are you doing!" the president yelled from under the table.

  "Making sure the lycans not only aren't freed, but that they're hunted down until there aren't any left alive," George said as he paused to reload.

  "Now hold still and I'll make it quick with a single shot to the head," George said as he released the slide on his pistol and it slid home, chambering another bullet.

  Carl lay on the floor, in pain. Whatever was in those bullets, it sure hurt like hell, and he'd been shot three times, twice in the back. But at least he wasn't dying. Bill, the president's chief of staff, was already dead; his brains were splattered all over the wall behind where he'd been sitting. Two of the three Secret Service agents looked to be dead, and Jeff, the third, was bleeding out fairly quickly.

  What he needed to do was to kill George, but he couldn't move!

  'I think I can move.'

  Carl heard his wolf, and he didn't think twice about it, he had a job to do—he'd taken an oath after all. Shifting into his wolf form, he used his front legs to slowly drag himself towards the president, who was staring at him under the table. While his wolf was able to move, slowly, the effects of the enchantments on the bullets didn't seem to be weakening.

  "Hiding under the table isn't going to save you!" George laughed.

  Pulling himself over the president, Carl flinched as he got shot three more times, but for some reason these bullets didn't seem to affect him the same as the others.

  "Dammit! Come out of there!"

  Carl pulled himself further up and flinched as George shot him again.

  "Son-of-a-bitch! You're a wolf!" Carl heard George swear, and looking up, he saw George point the gun at his head as he moved around the table.

  'Time to go big or go home,' Carl thought to his wolf, and taking a deep breath, he threw all caution to the wind. Surrendering to his other half, he tried to shift into his hybrid form.

  Surprisingly, it worked! Springing up, he hit the conference table with his arm, throwing it into George and knocking his aim off as he fired several more shots.

  Landing on top of him, Carl flailed about a moment, his entire body feeling like one massive attack of pins and needles, until he managed to grab George's neck in one hand and his gun in the other, then squeezed with both hands, applying all of his might as he concentrated on closing his hands into fists.

  George tried to throw Carl off, but it no longer mattered, Carl had a hold of him now and he wasn't letting go. As his grip on George's neck tightened, George started to weaken. It wasn't long before George's now mangled hand released the pistol to fall on the floor, while Carl's other hand completely crushed George's neck.

  "Quick! Get a doctor!" the president yelled, looking at the four bodies on the floor.

  Carl looked around as he tried to gather his wits and get to his feet.

  "They're all dead." He was still feeling the after effects of those bullets, but it seemed to be fading.

  "Jeff's not!" the president said and pointed to him.

  "He will be soon," Carl said, shaking his head, "and I don't dare leave you here alone." They could both hear the sounds of gunfire going off in the hallway; the fight was drawing near.

  "Can't you bite him or something?"

  "If I bite him, Sean will have my ass!" Carl growled. "We're not allowed to bite people."

  "Bullshit! I'm the president, and I'm your boss! I'm ordering you! Bite that man and save his life! I'll deal with Sean! Hell! Bite them all! Maybe we'll get lucky!"

  'Technically he is our alpha,' Carl's wolf chuckled in the back of his head.

  Sighing, Carl quickly did as he was told and bit all four of them. Jeff responded almost immediately. Surprisingly, one of the other Secret Service agents flinched and started to slowly heal as well. But the president's chief of staff and the other agent were both too far gone.

  "To be clear, just what is the penalty for biting someone?" the president asked as Carl took the table and used it to barricade the door as the room shook from a nearby explosion.

  "Death, I think."

  "Well, looks like I got another thing to put on the bargaining table then," the president said with a sad smile. "Too bad you couldn't save Bill. His family will be devastated."

  "What about George?" Carl asked, looking over at the dead body. George's head was barely attached at this point.

  "We'll deal with him later. I daresay your boss is going to be asking you a lot of questions. How long have you been a werewolf, Carl?"

  Carl snorted. "Not even a week. They offered it to me because I was put in charge of the lycans for the government. They figured I'd understand them better if I was one."

  "Offered? They gave you a choice?"

  Carl nodded and, grabbing the chairs that had been around the conference table, he started adding them to the table now barricading the door. Another, louder explosion rocked the room as Carl worked; he wondered if the two agents outside the door were still alive?

  "I'm surprised you said yes."

  Carl shrugged and then laughed. The conversation was too surreal. They were in the middle of a firefight, and the man everyone was trying to kill wanted to know about his becoming a werewolf!

  "Too many horror movies as a kid. Besides, they were right, what lycan is going to listen to a human bureaucrat? But a lycan one? Who knows both the president and a lion? Yeah, they'll listen alright."

  "And the god thing?" the president asked Carl while picking up George's pistol. As Carl watched, the president quickly went through George's pockets, checking him for any more ammunition. As it was magical, Carl thought that was a pretty slick decision.

  "Yeah, I can feel it in my bones when Sean flexes it," Carl said as he grabbed more furniture to stack behind the table and chairs now blocking the door. "They're the gods of the lycans, even the ones they've ordered others to infect."

  "And George's claim about him only being a kid?"

  "Sean's not a kid anymore, Sir. Don't make that mistake. He's a lion now, and I wouldn't confuse the lions with the lycans. They're obviously something more; all the other lycans know it, they just don't know how to express it."

  The president nodded as the sounds of gunfire from outside got both louder and closer.

  "I think we should get ready," the president said, then noticed that there were two large wolves sitting on the floor and panting on a pile of ripped clothing and weapons.

  "Jeff, and whoever you are," Carl said and then pointed at the president, "that's our alpha. You will protect him. Understand?"

  Both of the wolves ducked their heads in a nod and then shakily got to their feet.

  "Wouldn't they be better as humans right now?" the president asked.

  "Their human side is still down for the count. Be happy we got this much."

  The president nodded and, turning the chair they'd brought in for Sean around, he took cover behind it.

  #

  "They're in the building!" the agent in charge yelled, looking surprised. "The attack on Air Force One is just a diversion! And they're dressed as agents!"

  "What?" Roxy growled, looking at the man.

  "They're slaughtering the team I left behind! They came in through the back door before it could be secured. The men inside thought they were reinforcements until they opened fire!"

  "Come on, girls," Roxy growled, "Sean needs us!"

  "Hold on!" the agent said and grabbed Roxy's arm. "You can't…

  Roxy had him by the throat, cutting him off. "You can either come with us, stay here, or die. I'm not all that particular as to what you chose, but you had damn well better choose it now. We're going."

  The agent looked at the werecheetah who now had him by the throat. Yeah, he'd been told to protect them, but it was obvious they didn't need protecting. Or if they did, he wouldn't be able to provide it. But the president was in that building, and if he wasn't going to protect these women, then his own job was clear.