Not Without a Lawyer

The few steps to Nancy's body feel like miles. Her blood has spread, a dark pool glistening in the fading light. The iron-rich scent is an assault on the senses, and I gag, fighting back the urge to vomit.

"Nancy?" I whisper, knowing it's futile.

As I near her, my foot slips in the slick blood. I lose my balance, crashing to my knees beside her lifeless form. The warm stickiness seeps through my jeans and coats my hands, cooling at an alarming rate.

I force myself to look at her face. Her eyes stare blankly at the darkening sky, mouth slightly agape. The wound on her throat is a ragged mess of torn flesh. Her gun lies on the ground beside her.

As a human, she stood no chance against a panther shifter. But I never expected it to be so quick and one-sided.

I'm sure she didn't, either.

"I'm sorry," I choke out, though I know she can't hear me. "I'm so sorry."