The men stopped arguing when they saw him. A man in black military tactical wear, armed with a rifle, handgun, and several blades. He zipped down a line and landed on the railing of their balcony.

Berg placed his hand on the gun holstered at his side and stepped in front of Coop.

“Get in the bathroom, Coop,” he ordered, his voice low.

“We have to help her.”

“Do what I tell you and I will.”

The man in black dropped onto the balcony and grabbed the unconscious woman by her arm, rolling her limp body over.

“Now, Coop. Go.”

Berg moved forward with his weapon drawn from its holster. The man pulled his sidearm and pressed the barrel against the woman’s head.

Berg aimed his .45 and barked, “Hey!”

The man looked up, bringing his gun with him. Gazes locked, fingers resting on triggers. Each man sizing the other up. And that was when the woman moved. Fast. So fast, Berg knew she wasn’t completely human, which immediately changed everything.

The woman grabbed her attacker’s gun hand by the wrist and held it to the side so he couldn’t finish the job on her. She used her free hand to pummel the man’s face repeatedly.

Blood poured down his lips from his shattered nose; his eyes now dazed.

Still holding the man’s wrist, she got to her feet.

She was tall. Maybe five-ten or five-eleven. With broad, powerful shoulders and arms and especially legs. Like a much-too-tall gymnast.

She gripped her attacker by the throat with one hand and, without much effort, lifted him up and over the balcony railing. She released him then and unleashed the biggest claws Berg had ever seen from her right hand.

Turning away from the man, she swiped at the zip line that held him aloft and Berg cringed a little at the man’s desperate screams as he fell to the ground below.

That’s when she saw Berg. Her claws—coming from surprisingly small hands—were still unleashed. Her gaze narrowed on him and her shoulders hunched just a bit. She was readying herself for an attack. To kill the man who could out her as a shifter, he guessed. Not having had time to process that he was one, too. Plus, he had a gun, which wouldn’t help his cause any.

“It’s okay,” Berg said quickly, re-holstering his weapon. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yeah,” Coop said from behind him. “We just want to help.”

Berg let out a frustrated breath. “I thought I told you to get into the bathroom.”

“I wanted to see what’s going on.”

Coop moved to Berg’s side. “We’re shifters, too,” he said, using that goddamn charming smile. Like this was the time for any of that!