Jace tugged my right arm, and I started to back up with him, but Dean shook his head. “Don’t move, pussycat. Or I will shoot you.”

Michael snarled at my side, and Jace was growling deep in his mostly human throat, but there was nothing they could do. We were fast, but bullets were faster. Fortunately, so far Dean was the only one in human form, thus the only one carrying a gun.

“What’s the matter, Faythe?” Dean taunted, as his toms slunk closer. Two of them faced Jace, snarling softly, trying to steer him away from me. “I thought you liked being outnumbered by men. This is like your dream date, right?”

I slid my keys into my pocket and took the crowbar in my right hand, determined not to rise to the bait. “Why don’t you put down the gun and fight fair?”

“We already tried it that way, and I mopped up the floor with your tight little ass. Not to mention your face. Now put down the crowbar, or your boy takes a bullet.” He swung his gun toward Jace, and my heart clawed its way into my throat.

“Faythe, he’s bluffing…” Jace mumbled.

“No, he’s not.” And the truth was that he might shoot Jace even if I cooperated. I dropped the crowbar, my gaze locked on Dean’s sneer.

“Good girl.” He jogged down the steps, his aim steadily trained on the center of Jace’s chest. His shadow stretched across the grass beneath the porch light, not quite hiding the vicious grin he aimed at Jace. “I bet she takes the top, doesn’t she? A girl like that has to be in control all the time, or she just can’t have any fun, right?” Dean’s sneer found me again, his gaze tracing the scar he’d left on my cheek, then wandering lower. “But once I put her down, she’s damn well gonna stay there.”

He reached for my arm, but I jerked away. My fist slammed into his jaw. Dean growled. He backhanded me with his empty left hand, and I staggered backward, determined not to fall. “I will kill you.”

Dean laughed, and his gaze never left mine. He reached for my arm again, and when I started to step back, he raised the gun, aiming at Jace’s face. “Think very carefully.”

“Faythe, no…” Jace growled, right fist clenched at his side, the claws on his left paw sheathing and unsheathing over and over again.

“It’s okay,” I said, and when Dean grabbed my arm that time, I let him, even though my skin crawled. “I’ll kill him, then meet you right back here.” Because Jace couldn’t fight with a gun trained on him, and I stood a better shot of taking Dean out without the rest of his men around. “No worries.”

Dean laughed and glanced at Jace. “Oh, no, you can totally worry. And in a few minutes, and you can all hear her scream.”

Owen growled and Michael snarled, advancing on the toms who faced them.

Dean pulled me up the first step, still aiming at Jace. “Kill the toms. Leave the bitch to me.”

Cats all over the yard burst into motion. Snarls and hisses rang out like a violent chorus, a fitting soundtrack to accompany my waking nightmare. The scent of blood blossomed on the air, and I clenched my jaw against a scream as Dean hauled me up the steps by one arm.

“No!” Jace shouted, as two toms advanced on him.

Dean shoved the gun into my spine, and Jace burst into action. He swung at the tom on his right, swiping his clawed hand across an exposed flank. The tom howled, and Jace dropped into a roll. He came up with my crowbar, but then Dean dragged me over the threshold and kicked the door shut behind us. I could still hear the fight, but I couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see who was winning, or who might be dying.

And I couldn’t fight Dean while he still had the pistol.

“Walk, bitch.” He shoved his gun into my side and pulled me down the hall with him. “What’s with the tape?” He flicked the orange flagging tied to my arm, but I only glared at him. The thunderbirds were our proverbial ace in the hole, and I wasn’t going to tip him off.

Not that it mattered. Before I could come up with a believable lie—or even a smart-ass, obvious one—an avian screech split the night outside, and Dean’s head jerked up. He shoved the gun harder into my ribs and I flinched while he glanced down the hall.

“Kent, take your group outside. The bitch brought air support.”

My father’s office door swung open—it had already been ajar—and Kenton Pierce stepped into the hall, followed by five toms in human form, all carrying guns. The shock of seeing them in my father’s private space was so traumatic that I almost didn’t notice how strange the pistols looked. How long…

Silencers. Shit! The birds would never know what hit them if they couldn’t hear the guns being fired.

The men raced past us toward the back door, all armed except for Kent, who probably hadn’t had time for target practice yet. The moment the back door opened, I shouted, “Jace, they have silencers!” Then all I could do was listen as Dean pushed me toward my own room, boiling with rage on the inside. I had to get the gun out of his hands.

Kent hung back when he saw where we were headed, and a spark of hope blazed through my mounting fear.

“Don’t you bad guys ever get tired of the same old routine? You threaten rape, I kick your ass, and evil is defeated again. Couldn’t we shake things up? How ’bout you try to smother me with my fluffy pink pillow instead?”

Kent froze the minute he heard the R-word. “Colin…”

Dean ignored him. “Sounds like fun. Unfortunately, Malone wants you alive.”