Dean met my gaze, completely deadpan. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Let’s get back to the real issue here,” Malone said, wisely drawing attention from Dean before the bastard’s bad acting could undo the damage he’d already done to my case. “And that’s the fact that Ms. Sanders threatened to use her ability to partially Shift—a skill she was supposed to be teaching the rest of the enforcers, to better equip the entire community—to torture and kill one of my enforcers.”

“That’s not how it happened!” I insisted, as sudden heat scalded my cheeks. Most of Malone’s allies wouldn’t believe me, no matter what I said, and those who did were eager to see me fry, whether I was guilty or not.

“You know she didn’t mean that,” my uncle insisted. “She was upset, and it sounds to me like he was goading her.”

“Oh, she meant it.” The authentic ring of certainty in Dean’s voice drew my focus just in time to see him lift his shirt, exposing the thick, two-inch scar from when I’d stabbed him with his own knife. “She’s looking to finish what she started.”

A universal gasp echoed across the room, and I ground my teeth together so hard my jaw ached. To my knowledge, other than Malone, my dad was the only other Alpha who’d already known about Dean’s mishap with the knife, and he’d never actually seen the scar. I have to admit, it looked pretty bad. At a week old, even with a werecat’s accelerated healing—and I shuddered to think how many times he’d had to Shift to get to that point—the scar tissue was still thick and pink and scary.

“That’s why you cut her face?” Blackwell asked, apparently as horrified as everyone else.

“No! It was the other way around,” I shouted. Like Dean could even stand up after taking a knife to the gut! “He cut up my face and threatened to keep going. I just…” But I let the sentence trail off, for fear of incriminating myself. “He’s been out to get me since Councilman Blackwell fired him three months ago.”

“This is not the time to get into the specifics,” Malone insisted, conveniently cutting off my explanation, rather than Dean’s exhibition. “She’ll have a chance to tell her side during the trial.”

“What? You’re afraid that they’ll believe the truth if they hear it?” But no one was listening to me. No one who had the power to get me out of my cuffs, anyway. They were all still staring at Dean’s scar.

“Calvin, logistically speaking, this makes no sense,” my dad insisted, and I could have rejoiced at the reintroduction of logic into the most insane discussion I’d ever tried to follow. “We only have the cabins for three more days, and extending for any length of time would be prohibitively expensive, in both time and money.”

Malone stood with his mug, heading toward the kitchen. “You’re absolutely right. The only reasonable solution is to hold a very expedient hearing.”

“How expedient?” I demanded, already dreading the answer.

The new council chair turned to face me fully, coffeepot in one hand. “Tomorrow.”

“No!” my father shouted, and I stared as he closed his eyes, probably counting silently. When he opened them, he was calm and in control again, though I couldn’t fathom how he’d managed it. I was seeing the room through a thin film of red rage. “Absolutely not. How are we supposed to prepare a defense in twelve hours?”

“Oh, I can’t see how that’ll be much of a problem. All Faythe has to do is tell the truth, and anyone you could possibly call as a witness is already here.”

My jaw clenched painfully. Of the possible witnesses, the only ones likely to tell the truth were Marc and Jace, whose testimony would probably be considered biased and self-serving—since they were up on the same charges—thus inadmissible.

“But I think you’re missing the big picture here,” Malone continued, his back to us all now, while he poured his coffee. “A speedy trial will benefit everyone. The council is already convened, and our cabins are paid for. We’ll be saving the cost of additional travel and lodging, not to mention the time away from work and our families.” Finally he turned to face the room, holding a mug of black coffee. “And really, who here wants to squander time and money, when we could wrap this whole mess up tomorrow with minimal inconvenience.”

I had to admit he’d given a pretty good speech. Even the Alphas who would have been perfectly willing to give me time to prepare were not going to admit to wanting to “squander” their time and money.

“This ‘whole mess’ you’re talking about is my life!” My hands curled into fists at my back and suddenly I realized the decision to use cuffs was very deliberate. While I could cut through duct tape or rope by partially Shifting one hand, I wasn’t strong enough to break through steel. “Somehow I doubt you’d be in such a rush for justice if it were one of your own men sitting here.”

Malone raised one brow and half smiled. “Ms. Sanders, are you suggesting that the council chair is biased?”

Yes. That’s precisely what I was suggesting, but I knew better than to admit it. Instead, I watched my father, studying his composure and trying to borrow some of it for myself.

Calm and steady was the only way to address a room full of Alphas, half of which were just looking for an excuse to maim me or pick a fight with my dad. And as badly as I wanted to fight—was literally itching to Shift and slash someone—even I had to admit that this was not the time to start a war. Not with me in handcuffs, our two best fighters locked up in the storage shed, and most of the rest of our men scattered in various Prides all over the country.