“Just make sure no one can hear you, and I’ll tell you the rest.”

He cleared the room while I finished off the lunch meat and drained the can of soda. Out of habit, I threw my trash away and rinsed my hands at the sink. Then I went in search of the key to Abby’s cage.

“Okay, it’s just me now,” Daddy said as I scanned the living room, picking through junk piled on end tables made of used fruit crates. “I take it you know the cat in question?”

I put one hand over my eyes, as if that would shield me from his reaction. “It’s Ryan.”

Silence, as he considered what I’d said. “Ryan.” Anyone who didn’t know my father might have assumed that he was calm because his voice was steady. I knew better. Daddy’s temper was like lava, slow-moving but unyielding, and hot enough to incinerate anything in its path.

“Yeah…Ryan.” I tossed threadbare couch cushions to the floor. “But before you decide what to do with him, you should know a few things.” I shoved my hands between the seat of the couch and the back, feeling for the key.

“What things?”

The living room had produced no keys, but on the right, a hal way led to four more doors.

“He didn’t want to be involved at al ,” I said. “He only cooperated with Miguel to save his own life, and Mom’s. They told him they’d go after Mom, and he believed them.” I opened the first door on the left and inhaled deeply. From the scent alone, I knew I’d found Sean’s room. I didn’t stop to look; he didn’t have keys.

“That’s no excuse,” my father said, his voice as smooth and hard as polished stone. “They could never have gotten to your mother. Ryan should have—”

“I know. I’ve already been over all that with him.” I opened the second door and inhaled again. Bingo. It reeked of Miguel, and his room was a wreck. It would take forever to search.

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t be punished,” I said, picking through empty candy wrappers and loose change on the dresser. “I was tempted to rip his tongue out myself. I’m just saying that none of this was his idea, and he didn’t go along voluntarily.”

A strange grating sound met my ears through the phone as I squatted to search a small trash can beside the dresser, in case the key had fallen in. At first, I didn’t know what I was hearing, but then I understood: Daddy was grinding his teeth. “Go on,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Frustrated, I shoved the can aside. It didn’t matter how little Ryan had participated and why, because being involved at al was bad enough. Even if my father was wil ing to spare Ryan’s life—and it wasn’t looking good—at least two other Prides would demand my brother’s blood. Unless I could give them a good enough reason not to…

“He’s stil in contact with Miguel and Sean,” I blurted, then rushed on before I lost my nerve. “Daddy, we can use him, if the council is wil ing to let him live.”

“Use him for what?” he barked over the line.

A fur coat, I thought, but held my tongue. Daddy certainly didn’t need any suggestions on what to do with traitors. His imagination was far more capable than mine in that respect. “To catch them.”

“What did you have in mind?”

I fel on my rear on the filthy carpet, stunned by his response. I hadn’t expected my father to care what I thought, and here he was asking for my opinion.

Encouraged, I took a breath and jumped into the deep end of the pool. My father’s end. “Sean and Miguel are checking in with him by phone. If they call and he doesn’t answer, they’ll know something’s up, and they’ll run. And we may never catch them. But if we can get him to answer like nothing’s happened, they’l keep going, and we can be there waiting for them.”

Daddy’s chair squeaked as he sat up suddenly. “You know where they’re going?”

“Yeah. They want one more girl.” Which reminded me that I stil hadn’t told him what they wanted us for. There would be time to explain that later. Or maybe I should let Ryan have the honor…

One by one, I opened Miguel’s drawers, tossing clothes to the floor. Luckily, two of the four drawers were empty, another indication of how temporary their living arrangements were meant to be.

“Who are they after?” Daddy asked.

I hesitated, leaning against the empty dresser.

“Faythe?” His voice was hard and dark, if it was possible for a sound to be dark. “Tel me where they’re going. Now.” It was his business tone, the one no one ever challenged—until now. I couldn’t let Miguel get away. Not after what he’d done to Sara and Abby. Not after what he’d tried to do to me. I’d go after them on my own if I had to, but I stood a much better chance with my father’s help. And I knew how to get it.

“Are you wil ing to deal with Ryan?” My pulse pounded as I waited for his answer.

A pause, then, “Are you trying to negotiate with me?”

I crossed my fingers and swam in a little deeper, hoping I’d learned something since the last time I bargained with my father. “Yes.”

“Why? I want to catch them too.”

“I have a plan. And I want to lead the hunt.” I held my breath, preparing to have my request denied. I wasn’t disappointed.

“No, Faythe.” Now he sounded weary. “It’s too dangerous, and you don’t have the experience.”