“Hey, asshole, what’s your dad going to say when I sustain permanent nerve damage on your watch?” I demanded, still trying to ease the ache in my arms.

Finally Alex’s cold gaze met mine. “He’s gonna say, ‘Good thing we don’t need her for her hands.’”

Whatever. That threat had long since ceased scaring me. “Wow. You guys are like a broken record. Don’t you ever get tired of the whole ‘knock ’em out and drag ’em back to the cave’ routine? ’Cause I swear, Cro-Magnons were more subtle.”

Alex didn’t respond, but the answer was clear. He never got tired of it, because it was all he knew. Probably all his father ever talked about or planned for.

Our system of government was pretty twisted. Alphas were traditionally male, yet territories pass not from father to son, but from mother to daughter, and the only way to become an Alpha of one of those territories is to marry the tabby born into it.

Unfortunately, the strength of the entire system depends on each individual tabby choosing the right man to run her territory—regardless of how she feels about him personally. Sometimes a tabby is fortunate enough to love a well-qualified man. Sometimes love comes several years into a marriage, when they have both Pride members and children in common. Sometimes love never comes. But the worst-case scenario is when a tabby marries for love, but her chosen mate is not strong enough to lead their Pride.

Some people think that’s what happened with Jace’s parents. That Jason Hammond was too weak, and that’s why he died less than four years into their marriage, leaving his wife vulnerable to the advances of a ruthless, power-hungry wannabe-despot like Calvin Malone.

“When did this whole thing start, anyway? This whole ‘rule the women, rule the world’ plot?” I scooted awkwardly to the corner of the bed closest to Alex, trying to draw his attention, but all I got out of him was another fleeting glance. “It was with Manx, wasn’t it?”

Before she showed up, there were no “extra” tabbies, and my cousin Abby and I were the only eligible but unspoken-for female cats in the country. Abby was still in high school, and I’d already turned down Brett Malone’s proposal years before, so Malone’s ambition was temporarily stymied by circumstance.

Then came Manx.

“Your dad saw her as his golden ticket, right?” Manx was unclaimed and vulnerable, by virtue of being both pregnant and wanted for murder. Perfect prey for Malone. “Suddenly there’s an extra woman in the mix, and by divine rights—or pure, unadulterated gluttony—she must be his, in one fashion or another, right?” Fortunately, he was willing to live vicariously through his sons. Otherwise, the ick factor would be too much to contemplate. “And then along came Kaci.”

Kaci was initially ill-nourished from months spent on her own, confused from having no previous knowledge of her own species, and traumatized over having accidentally killed her mother and sister during her first Shift.

And by that point Malone must have heard the choir singing his name. After her trial and the loss of her claws, Manx was defenseless and desperate to protect her infant son. Kaci was young and terrified enough to be manipulated into compliance.

“Your dad’s two for three, right?” But still Alex refused to acknowledge me. “Which means it all comes down to me.”

I was the thorn in Malone’s paw. The fatal flaw in his plan. I couldn’t be threatened, manipulated, or coerced into obedience, and I could hold my own in a fair fight. And I was willing to fight not just for myself, but to protect both Manx and Kaci, as well. I was everything Malone hated in a woman—not to mention everything he feared—and he was determined to either break me or kill me.

But I had news for him. Alex Malone wasn’t up to the challenge—either part of it. However, hopefully he was up to helping me get out of my latest prison cell. Or at least the cuffs.

“So…how old were you when you decided to pursue professional ass-wipe status?”

That time Alex’s head swiveled and he favored me with an eye roll. “Insulting me isn’t going to make me talk to you.”

Yet I’d just heard his voice…

“I’d think you’d want to talk to me. Aren’t you supposed to be seducing me, or something? Greasing the wheels on the way to our dreaded nuptials?” I glanced around the room, cataloging potential weapons out of habit. There was nothing I could wield without the use of my hands. “Or has your dad changed his mind about that?”

Alex sneered. “My father never changes his mind.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your dad’s the sort who’ll bang his head into a brick wall over and over, convinced the wall will eventually collapse. But it isn’t the bricks that are going to cave in, Alex. Fortunately, you seem to have avoided that particular character flaw—you’re messed up in an entirely different way.”

He rolled his eyes, but I could tell I was irritating him. “That’s not going to get you out of here. And I’m not messed up.”

“Right. So, I’m curious—is it hard to walk upright with no backbone?”

Alex looked ready to breathe fire, and I wanted to laugh. He was so easy to piss off! Of course, he was only eighteen; surely his temper would even out with experience. Unless he got in my way again, and I had to kill him. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a raging bitch?”

“That does sound familiar.” I forced my fingers to flex, desperate to regain some feeling in them. “But my point stands. Either you’re a moron who’s never had an original thought, or you’re a coward, too afraid to say what you’re thinking.”