Ha! I’d show them civil. I would tell the council exactly where it could shove its “civil” requests. Which my badass Alpha had just done.

“Daddy, I’m this close to talking Kaci into Shifting.” I held my thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart. “I think I could get her to do it today, if I had the time. But she’s never going to Shift for someone she doesn’t know and trust, and she hates Calvin Malone almost as much as she hates her own cat form.” Which was partly my fault. She’d heard everything Jace and I had to say about his abusive, narrow-minded, ass-wipe of a stepfather and now the tabby was firmly aligned with our Pride against him.

“I know.” My father sighed and suddenly looked very tired. “I won’t let this happen.”

The last time he’d said that, he’d been talking about my possible execution, and he’d been as good as his word. Unfortunately, to take the death penalty off the table, he’d had to exile Marc.

I couldn’t help but wonder what we’d have to give up to keep Kaci.

“So, what’s the plan?” I fingered a figurine on the end table on my left—a pewter cat reared to pounce. Then I forced my hands into my lap when I realized I was betraying my extreme impatience.

“You’re going to find Marc. I can handle Kaci, and I don’t want you worrying about this until he’s back and healthy. There’s nothing you can do about it, anyway. This is my battle, Faythe. I may not be young anymore, but there’s a fight or two left in me still. Don’t count your father out just yet.”

“I haven’t, Daddy.” And I never would. But Kaci was as much my responsibility now as I ever was his. We’d both fight for her.

Just as soon as I was sure Marc was okay.

“I’m calling in reinforcements from the rest of the Pride, so we’ll have some extra bodies on patrol.” He went to the desk and pulled open the top drawer and removed a bulging three-ring binder, which he dropped on the blotter with a thunk. “With all that stray activity going on so close to the border, we need to know immediately if they try to cross over.”

“Good.” With Michael, Brian and Vic still in Georgia, and me and Parker off looking for Marc, my father would need all three of his remaining enforcers to protect the home and hearth. But he could hardly ignore the threat posed by our suddenly aggressive neighbors.

I hated that we were so crippled by circumstance, but incredibly grateful that we had resources to call on in our time of need. The other members of our Pride would be called into active duty, a possibility they’d agreed to upon joining the south-central Pride. And if I knew my father, he’d pair the less experienced toms with those who’d once served as enforcers.

They’d take sick days, vacation days, unpaid workdays, or whatever it took to get off work when they were called. And in a matter of hours the Mississippi border would be crawling with south-central cats. They would patrol in human form until dusk, then on four paws once darkness descended to blend with their fur.

“With any luck, by the time you get there, several toms will be within an hour’s drive should you need them,” my father continued. “Do not hesitate to call them in. There are no bonus points for bravery on this one, Faythe. The only way to win is to get Marc back then get all three of you home in one piece. Understand?”

“Of course, Daddy.” I didn’t even roll my eyes, because for once I was pretty sure he wasn’t being overprotective just because I was a girl. He was being regular-protective, because I was one of his enforcers, and that felt good. Really good. Almost as good as him letting me go in the first place.

Nine

Four and a half hours later, Parker and I turned onto a long, tree-lined gravel driveway beside a house I knew without a doubt to be Marc’s, though I’d never been there or seen any pictures. And though Painter’s directions had been about as clear as swamp water.

The setting sun shone on a large lot, open in front and wooded in the back. The house was isolated; Marc’s nearest neighbor was two and a half miles down a dirt road—and a good six miles from Rosetta proper. And if the Homochitto National Forest didn’t actually adjoin the property, it came damn close.

The only detraction I could see was the house itself, which had to be at least eighty years old and had definitely seen better days. But in my opinion, and no doubt in Marc’s, the benefits far outweighed any material discomfort caused by outdated wiring, insufficient insulation, or peeling paint and crooked shutters.

I was out of the car the instant it stopped, long before Parker actually shut down the engine, and for a moment, the below-freezing windchill—a relative rarity for the South—stole my breath from my lungs. My boots crunched across gravel briefly before landing on dead, brittle grass. Relieved to see that the ice had melted in Mississippi, I raced over the lawn—then skidded to a halt about a foot from an ominous, dark trail slicing across one corner of Marc’s front yard. The stain was dry, and no longer bright red as it must have been hours earlier, but it stood out starkly against the dull, colorless lawn.

And the scent was unmistakable.

Blood. Marc’s blood. He’d been dragged over the very spot where I now stood.

At my side, my hands clenched into fists so tight my fingers cramped instantly, and only when ice crystals formed on my cheeks did I realize I was crying.

My jaws clenched, I wiped frigid tears from my face and forced myself to step over the trail of Marc’s blood. Then my gaze followed it up the stairs and across the uncovered concrete stoop to where it disappeared beneath the scuffed front door.