Men standing nearby formed a shield between the two wolves and their women. A few people rolled their eyes as if they were used to seeing someone break the rules of a peace party.

Only in wolf form were the twins identical, and now I could no longer tell them apart.

Lorenzo joined me and pulled his mask on top of his head. “I can always count on the Weston pack to break the rules. This is becoming a tradition.”

The voices overlapped, but all I heard were two brothers going at each other’s throats. “Do something!” I shouted.

“Only Austin’s pack can break up this fight,” Lorenzo said. “Half his men are out in the field with the fireworks.”

“Where’s Reno?”

Lorenzo shook his head. “Probably protecting his human. Anyone who gets involved might involuntarily shift, and the last thing you want to do in this environment is turn packs against each other. They have to finish it out until they tire.” Lorenzo lit up a cigarette and chuckled lightly.

Jericho appeared on the porch above them, dressed like a pirate. He swung a bucket and a wave of water splashed onto the two snarling animals. The wolves backed up, startled by the cold dousing of water.

A few bystanders laughed and turned away.

“That should cool them off,” Jericho said.

The crowd gasped when one wolf lunged at the other, grabbing hold of his neck. He shook it, and the other wolf yelped, struggling to free himself but not attacking. Blood darkened his fur, and he fell onto his back.

“Holy shit,” someone said from behind me. “He went for the jugular! They’re going to kill each other for real.”

Without thinking, I pushed through the crowd. Someone hooked his arm around my waist and my feet came off the ground.

Austin jogged up, and the closer he got to the scene, the faster he ran. He locked his arms around the aggressor’s neck and pried open his jaws. “Let go!” he shouted. “Goddammit, Wheeler. I thought I could trust you.”

“No!” I tried to wriggle free and finally elbowed the person holding me. My feet touched the ground and I ran forward and fell to my knees. “Don’t hurt him! That’s not Wheeler you’re holding. That’s Ben.”

“How do you know?” he asked doubtfully, unable to say aloud what we both knew about Wheeler’s life in cage fighting.

The wolf continued snarling, his teeth wet with fresh blood.

Austin shook him hard and said in a commanding tone, “Submit.”

The wolf reluctantly stilled, but a low growl still rolled from deep in his throat.

I cradled the injured wolf’s head below me, stroking his ear. “Because Wheeler would die before hurting Ben.”

Austin looked around. “Who shifted first?”

“I saw it,” someone said. “The cop swung at the criminal, and then the criminal lunged at the cop. But it was the cop who shifted first.”

“Goddammit,” Austin cursed under his breath. He looked apologetically at Wheeler. “Is he okay?”