“Faythe, I honestly don’t know. But that doesn’t excuse…”

“I know. I’m not saying it excuses anything. I’m just saying that’s how it happened, and afterward, I realized it didn’t feel as wrong as it should have. I mean, hurting Marc felt horrible, and still feels horrible, but the rest of it—loving Jace—doesn’t feel wrong.”

Vic watched me for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say, and I couldn’t blame him. I knew exactly what that felt like. But before he could decide on a response, the front door of the cabin squealed open.

“Faythe?” my father called. I scrambled to my feet and threw open the door. My dad stood in the middle of the floor, winded and trying to catch his breath. “I’m fine, Dad. We’re all fine.”

“Not for long.” He paused to suck in another deep breath. “I ran all the way here, but I could hear them behind me, about a quarter of a mile. I think they know you’re gone.”

“Okay.” My heart pounded so hard I could barely hear anything else, and the rest of the room seemed to fade into the background as I focused on my father. “This is your call, Dad. We can surrender and wait while you guys go for the guns—we think they’re in the shed behind Malone’s cabin. Or we can stand and fight now.”

“We’re going to get the best of both worlds.” He glanced over my shoulder. “Brian, go through the woods and get the guns. Take them deep into the forest and drop the whole box, then come back ready to fight. We’ll destroy them later. On the way, call Aaron and Rick and tell them to get their men ready.”

“I’m already on that, Greg,” Bert Di Carlo said from the kitchen doorway, his cell phone at his ear.

“Good.” My father looked at each of us individually, me last of all. “This time we fight.”

Anticipation buzzed in my stomach like angry wasps, fear and bloodlust combining to spin my head and steel my spine. “I confiscated three guns, but there are two more in use, plus the five Malone still has locked up. Assuming he hasn’t already distributed them. Colin Dean has one of those two, but anyone could have the last. So some of us should Shift, but we also need a few in human form, to disarm those last couple of ‘task force’ members.” I pulled my shirt over my head, hopefully emphasizing the urgency.

“Agreed.” My father glanced around at the room full of toms, all waiting for his orders. “Lucas, Jace, Vic, and I will stay human. The rest of you Shift. Quickly. We’ll do our best to get rid of the guns, but stay out of the line of fire just in case.”

Marc already had his shirt off and his pants unbuckled when I grabbed his arm and pointed toward the bedroom, where we’d be shielded from the initial onslaught. “In there.” Because we were more vulnerable in mid-Shift than at any other time in our lives. At least, since infancy.

Marc headed for the bedroom and grabbed Di Carlo’s other enforcer on the way.

“How many are coming?” I asked, unbuttoning my jeans in the bedroom doorway.

My father’s frown deepened as his gaze settled on mine. “I couldn’t tell. But more than came for you the first time, I’m betting.”

I nodded and ducked into the bedroom, leaving the door open a crack so we could get out without hands to twist the knob. I shoved my jeans and underwear to the floor, listening to my father as I dropped to my knees on the hardwood, still fumbling with the latch on my bra.

“Okay, our primary objective is to disarm and disable,” our Alpha called from the front room, as the first jarring bolts of pain emanated from deep within my joints. “But because we may be facing men with guns, if it’s kill or be killed, opt for the former.”

On my left, Marc was in mid-Shift between the two twin beds, and suddenly I wished I’d thought to put at least one mattress between me and the door, thus between me and any potential bullets. But it was too late to move. Once my Shift began, I could only ride the waves of pain. Or let them ride me.

“Once this first group is subdued—” they were coming to rearrest me, hopefully not expecting us to actually attack “—we’ll have to move quickly. We’ll tape up the survivors and regroup, then head out through the woods to Malone’s cabin. He’s our primary target, but obviously we’ll have to deal with anyone else who gets in the way. As quietly as possible, to keep from tipping him off.”

My knees popped, and I groaned. Pain echoed the length of my legs, radiating outward from the center of my bones. My ribs ached fiercely as they and the accompanying muscles were reshaped to accommodate a feline layout of organs. As I stared at my hands, splayed on the floor, my palms began to plump beneath me. My fingers creaked as they shortened and thickened, growing pads suited to rough terrain.

“But above all, don’t let any of them leave.” My father’s boots scraped the floor in the living room, and it became hard for me to simultaneously concentrate on his words and force my Shift to come faster than it would on its own. “If they warn the rest of Malone’s men, we’ll lose the element of surprise and be outnumbered. Got it?”

There were mumbles of assent from the men still in human form, but I couldn’t help wondering if we actually had the element of surprise in the first place. Surely they weren’t expecting me to just turn myself in and be hauled off quietly. Again.

“I hear them,” Vic said, his voice low enough to avoid detection by the toms headed our way, but loud enough to be heard in the adjoining rooms, over the grunts and heavy breathing of so many simultaneous Shifts.