The midnight-black wolf launched himself at Vaughan and latched onto the detective’s shoulder. The impetus sent them both tumbling to the bottom of the stairs.
And I? I stared stupidly.
Vaughan’s shoulder was a shredded wreck, and the wolf lay across him, his chest barely moving. It was obvious from the angle the wolf’s back was broken. Pain-filled eyes met mine, and then he lost consciousness.
I knelt beside the boy and carefully studied him. There was a palm print on one cheek and when I ran my fingers through his hair, I felt a good-sized knot. Not only had Vaughan struck him, but he’d flung the boy aside, as well.
“Thomas! Thomas!” Roddy burst through the door.
“I thought I told you—”
“Not bloody likely,” he snapped as he sank down beside me. He ran his hands all over me, making sure I was unhurt. Once he was certain I was all right, he looked at the boy.
“Did the wolf do this?”
“No, I’m assuming it was Vaughan.”