On my left, Michael was backing away from three toms. Halfway across the yard, Owen limped away from two more. Teo Di Carlo stood guard in front of his father, bleeding from countless gashes, yet snarling and swiping at four toms.

We’ve lost….

My heart ached, and fresh tears rolled down my cheeks, unbidden. I’d led them all into the slaughter.

Then, suddenly, a thunderbird swooped out of the air, blowing my hair back with the wind he created. He soared toward Owen and raked deadly talons into the side of one of the enemy cats, digging into the flesh at the last minute. His powerful wings flapped, and both bird and squalling, kicking cat rose into the air. Twenty feet up, the thunderbird release his prey. The enemy tom crashed to the ground, unmoving, a fur-covered bag of broken bones and torn flesh.

I felt like cheering. If the thunderbirds weren’t giving up, even as they were slowly shot from the sky for a fight that wasn’t even theirs, we couldn’t, either.

We hadn’t lost until I’d bled my last.

I rushed the toms growling at Michael and shoved my knife between the ribs of the nearest, then swiped my claws across the back of a second. The third jumped Michael, and the other two turned on me, hurt, but not out. I backed away slowly, and suddenly Jace was there.

He swung the crowbar. The curved end smashed through the first cat’s skull. But before I could swing my blade, a sudden surge of light caught my eye. I glanced up to find my mother standing in the guesthouse doorway, backlit from inside. She stumbled onto the porch, and Malone came out behind her, holding her by one arm.

The bastard had taken a hostage!

I pressed my knife into Jace’s palm and had gone two steps when my mother whirled on Malone and punched him in the face. Malone let her go to hold his cheek, then stormed after her.

My mom ran down the steps. In my peripheral vision, Jace slashed the knife across our opponent’s throat. A dark blur flew out of the shadows toward my mother. A second blur intercepted it, and both bodies fell to the ground.

Ryan roared. The other cat slashed. His claws raked over Ryan’s abdomen, and my brother collapsed.

No!

My mother fell to the ground at his side. Malone tried to pull her up. Jace raced toward them. I ran after them all, then froze when a deep, unearthly roar ripped through the air.

I turned, and something burst through the tree line. I stared across the yard in confusion as a second huge, dark form emerged from the woods, shoving an entire tree out of the ground in the process.

“What the hell?” Jace asked, from ten feet away, and I smiled, suddenly warm all over.

“Bruins. It’s Keller.” And someone else. Hopefully someone else friendly. And as I watched, several smaller forms poured out of the woods behind them. Toms, in cat form. Fresh, and uninjured. Who the hell were they? Where on earth had they come from?

One stopped in front of the crowd, looking over the carnage. Searching for something. He planted his feet firmly, and roared.

And my heart plummeted into my stomach.

“Marc!” I shouted, euphoric, in spite of the bloodbath all around me.

Jace hesitated. He looked at me, then at Marc. Then he raced toward Malone.

Marc twisted my way and the other cats surged around him, and absently I noticed that they all wore orange bands around their front legs. And suddenly I understood. Strays. He’d recruited strays to fight for us. And they’d arrived just in time.

Marc met my glance briefly and bobbed his muzzle. Then he leaped into the fray.

I picked up the crowbar and wiped it on my torn shirt. Then I jumped back into the fight.

I swung metal at everything that didn’t have orange tape flapping around its leg. The newcomers were fresh and uninjured. They tore into our enemies like dogs into fresh meat, and the screams that accompanied their involvement gave me a giddy smile.

Something swiped at my leg, but I barely noticed. I lived for the crunch of bone, the flow of blood. I fed on the screams and the whimpers, working my way through the carnage toward Malone. He was the whole point.

When I was twenty feet away, Malone screamed. I looked up from the body at my feet to see him backing away from Jace. But he was out of room, and out of options. Malone’s back hit the porch rail. Jace’s fist slammed into his stepfather’s gut. Malone flinched all over, and suddenly I understood. Jace still held my knife. He hadn’t punched Malone; Jace had stabbed him.

“This is for my mother!” Jace shouted, and his fist flew again. “And for Brett!” He shoved the knife home again, and by then I could smell Malone’s blood. Jace pulled the knife out and pinned Malone to the porch rail by one shoulder. “And this is for my father…” He looked straight into his stepfather’s eyes, and slid the blade across Malone’s throat.

Jace stepped back and dropped the knife. The body fell to the ground. He turned to face me, and Malone twitched at his back. Jace made it three steps, then he fell to his knees.

I ran for him and dropped to the ground at his side. I wrapped my arms around him, and he shook in my grip. Jace clung to me, and I let him. Feet away, my mother knelt over Ryan’s body, crying, oblivious to the slaughter around her. I stared out at the yard over Jace’s head, and exhaled silently. Then I blinked.

It was over. The strays had made short work of the remaining opposition.

In the new quiet, the rush of air overhead caught my attention, and I looked up as the remaining birds dropped onto the ground, already Shifting into mostly human form.

“Faythe Sanders?” Beck called, and I let go of Jace to stand. The bird approached me, almost fully human, and bleeding from a bullet wound to the side. “It seems you have won your war, and it was a glorious battle indeed. Unless you have changed your mind about feasting on the bodies of your enemies, we will take our leave.”