“She’ll be fine,” Ric said again, hoping he was right. Of course, as he watched the battered, bruised, and weary-looking Gwen roll onto the track and then the barely bruised, much bigger, and wide-awake She-wolf roll on after her, Ric realized that he definitely had his doubts.

Panting, Gwen rested one hand on the railing and one hand on her waist.

“How ya doin’, little kitty?” McNelly taunted. “You sure you’re up for this? I don’t know, you took some bad hits during that last jam. And you look so tired. You tired? People never realize how long two minutes can be, huh? But we know, don’t we, little kitty?”

While McNelly kept going on, Gwen looked down at the hand on her waist. Her eyes narrowed. Was her nail polish chipped or had she cracked her nail? She leaned in a bit, examining it a little more. Letting out a sigh, she relaxed back.

Nail polish chipped. That was good. She had no desire to pay Blayne five bucks.

The ref stood diagonally from her but still in the infield. “Just a reminder,” he said. “To make two complete laps your feet have to mostly be on the track. Any leaps over ten feet—whether vertical or horizontal—won’t be counted, understand?”

Gwen nodded.

“She can come at you from any direction and in any way. Fangs and claws are now

allowed. Whatever you do, don’t stop. You’ve got two minutes, hon.” He briefly glanced at McNelly before adding, “And good luck.”

He clamped the whistle between his lips, pointed his arm at her, and blew. Gwen took off, but McNelly wasn’t behind her. As the game had progressed, Gwen had become really good at sensing where the blockers were coming from. And this time McNelly had cut through the infield and was going to meet her on the other side.

Gwen ignored the sound of the screaming crowd, focusing instead on just McNelly, the track, what was in or near her space, and Blayne’s voice. As she made it halfway around, McNelly was there, coming right at Gwen.

Twisting her body, Gwen spun out of her reach, McNelly slamming into the rails so hard she almost went over. Gwen kept going, not even looking back. The crowd got louder, but she could still hear Blayne over them all.

“Five feet, Gwen! Five feet!”

Gwen took a breath and waited until she heard Blayne yell, “Hard left!”

She jerked to the left and McNelly flew by a second after, landing hard on the track, her body splayed out.

Again, she kept moving, never looking back. She heard the announcer scream, “Lap one!” And she knew she’d have to get through this next lap to win.

“Head-on, Gwen!” Blayne screamed. “Head-on!”

Gwen looked up and there NcNelly was, coming right at her, fangs and claws out, her long arms open wide.

Gwen could leap over her, but anything more than ten feet, she was screwed. And she’d have to go atleast that high because she had no doubts the big bitch would jump with her and catch her legs.

No. She couldn’t leap up and over her, but she could go off the track into the infield to run away. Yet she’d have to push through all those Furriers who’d be beating the shit out of her to stop her. So that left her with one option…

When Gwen’s fangs and claws came out, Lock sat up straight.

“What the hell is she doing?” he snarled, barely realizing Mitch Shaw asked the same question at the same time.

“Now this,” Roxy sighed, “this is going to be ugly.”

“I’m right there with you, Rox,” Alla sighed behind him.

But Lock didn’t dare look away from the track to glare at either Gwen’s mother or his own. Not when the action was moving so fast.

They were about five feet from each other, McNelly about to scoop Gwen up in those massive arms of hers, when Gwen finally went airborne. But instead of leaping over McNelly, which was what Lock had assumed she’d do, she went right into her.

She hit McNelly full force, her mouth open and wrapping around the She-wolf’s face. Gwen clamped down, her claws digging into McNelly’s shoulders. They hit the ground in a bloody, violent mess, McNelly’s claws slashing at Gwen’s shoulders and arms as the female desperately tried to get Gwen off her.

Gwen sat up, spitting out the blood that wasn’t already running down her chin and neck and twice slammed her fist into McNelly’s face.

“Thirty-five seconds!” Blayne yelled from the infield.

Gwen scrambled over McNelly and started to get to her feet. But McNelly caught hold of her ankle, flipping over on her stomach to drag Gwen back.

“Twenty-five, Gwen! Twenty-five!”

Gwen yanked her foot away from McNelly, but the She-wolf took hold of the other one.

“Twenty! Twenty!”

Lock watched as the two friends looked at each other and he thought exactly what Roxy had said, This is going to be ugly.

“House cat her, Gwen!” Blayne yelled.

“House cat the bitch!”

And Lock finally found out what it meant to “house cat” someone as Gwen turned so fast, if he’d been more human he would have missed it. She turned and using both hands, raked her unleashed claws down McNelly’s face three…oh. Nope. Four times.

It definitely reminded him of a house cat fighting off the family dog.

McNelly screamed, her hands covering her face and what was left of her nose, lips, and cheeks. And maybe her eyes.

The crowd jumped to their collective feet, the wild dogs howling louder than anyone.

Flicking something red and pulpy from her claws, Gwen sprung to her feet and took off, Blayne right with her from the infield, counting the time down as she did.