“Yeah. It’s still on the hinges, but the lock’s busted.” He seemed to know where I was headed with that question.

I sank onto the padded, duct-tape-patched seat of the bench press. “Can you move something in front of the doors? That way if they come back, you’ll at least have some warning before they get in.”

“Um, just a sec.” Painter’s breathing changed as he stood, and footsteps over the line told me he was on the move. “I can push the couch in front of the front door. And the back one looks fine. I’m locking it up now.” A chain rattled, and metal scraped wood softly as he slid the dead bolt home.

“Good, but can you put something in front of that one, too? Just in case?”

“Sure. I’ll see if he’s got anything heavy in the other room.”

“Thanks, Dan.” I hesitated, wishing my gratitude for him wasn’t overshadowed by my fear for Marc. But it was. “I’m leaving now, and it’ll take me about five hours. Call me immediately if anyone shows up.”

“I will.”

I flipped my phone closed and turned to find my father watching me from one corner of the exercise mat. Owen, Ethan, Jace and Parker stood at the bottom of the stairs, breathing hard and waiting for orders.

“Faythe, Parker, get packed.” Parker and I nodded in unison, and my father continued. “Take enough for two days, just in case. But I can’t spare you any longer than that. Not with everything else going on.”

I found myself nodding, but knew in my heart that I wouldn’t leave the free zone before we’d found Marc. Not conscious and walking upright, anyway.

“Sniff around and see what you can find out about the dead strays. Get me names, and I’ll get you addresses. Play it safe, and play it smart. Do not go wandering off through the woods looking for a needle in a haystack. And don’t go anywhere alone. For all we know, this is a trap designed to get you back into the free zone. Check in three times a day. Got it?”

I nodded again, and Parker mimicked me. We were itching to get going.

“And, Faythe?” My father eyed me sternly.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t have any extra backup to send with you, so it’s just you two and Dan Painter. Be careful.”

“Of course,” I said, as if his common warning meant no more this time than it ever had. But that wasn’t the case. Always before, we’d had the advantage of larger numbers, and I was distinctly uncomfortable with having the tables turned.

“Okay, go!” my father ordered. And we went.

Eight

When I got to my room, Kaci was waiting on my bed, propped up on my pillows, and the sense of déjà vu was inescapable as I packed. She’d watched me unpack less than a day earlier, looking much happier than she did at the moment.

She pulled my punching pillow into her lap as if for comfort. But then I was almost amused to see her clench it in both fists, as if she might rip it in two. It was scary sometimes, how much she and I had in common. “What happened?” The tabby’s smooth, beautiful features were twisted in an odd combination of fear and irritation. “No one will tell me anything.”

“Marc’s been abducted, and he lost a lot of blood in the process.” I snatched my duffel from the floor of my closet and dropped it on the end of the bed, and when our eyes finally met, the shock in hers took me completely by surprise.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been quite so blunt. Was this one of those truths kids weren’t supposed to hear? What was I supposed to do, lie to her?

I was pretty sure that even if I tried to gloss over the facts, she’d see the truth in my eyes. Then she’d never trust me again.

I wanted to sink onto the bed next to Kaci and hug her. Then slowly, carefully, explain that sometimes bad things happen to good people, and those good people aren’t always okay afterward. But surely she knew that better than anyone, and I didn’t have time for slow and careful. I had to find Marc, to make sure he didn’t become one of those people who wasn’t okay.

Like Kaci herself.

Shit. She needed reassurance from me almost as badly as Marc needed to be found and treated. I’d have to talk while I packed.

“Kaci, hon, I don’t know how this is going to end.” I turned from her as I opened my top dresser drawer, to keep her from seeing just how terrified I was. She needed to see me as a rock. As someone she could depend on, no matter what happened. She did not need to know that a hit on Marc was the one punch I wasn’t sure I could roll with.

When I had my expression under control, I met her eyes again as I stuffed a handful of underwear into the bag. “But I’m going to find Marc, and make sure that whoever took him lives to regret it. For a few minutes, anyway.”

She only blinked at me, and I turned back to the dresser for some shirts. “How did it happen?” Kaci asked as I pulled two long-sleeved tees from the second drawer.

“It looks like some men broke into his house and beat him up, then took off with him.”

“Somebody beat Marc up?” Disbelief was thick in her voice, and my pride for Marc and his reputation swelled, even under the circumstances.

“It was at least three against one.” No need to mention that the weapons were pieces of his broken furniture, or that he was in his own home at the time. “And he got two of them,” I said after a moment’s hesitation, hoping she wouldn’t ask me what “got” meant.

I was a little conflicted about how much to tell her. On one hand Kaci was a werecat now, a fully integrated member of our society, and she needed to know how life worked for us. Sheltering her would do little to help her adjust. But on the other hand, even though she wasn’t scratched or bitten, her entry into our secret world was heralded by violence, and I wasn’t eager to remind her of what she’d done. She needed to move past that if she was ever going to truly settle into her new existence.