Three men ran in front of me, clearly visible in the sad light of a cloud-covered quarter moon. One man half turned, gun haphazardly aimed. The barrel flashed. For an instant the world was too bright to bear. The bullet whizzed by several feet over my head and thunked into the frozen earth behind me.

He aimed again, and I zigged while Marc zagged. The next bullet split the air between us. Too close for comfort.

He turned to run again and I pounced. My paws slammed into his back. He screamed and fell beneath me. My muzzle closed over the back of his neck. My teeth pierced tender flesh, just enough to threaten. Blood ran into my mouth. It tasted like fear. He waved the gun at his side. I swatted it away before he could fire, dislocating his elbow. He thrashed beneath me.

A dark blur flew past us. Another thud. The second tom hit the grass with Marc on top of him. He screamed when Marc performed the same maneuver with unsheathed claws.

Wish I’d thought of that…

The third tom still pounded toward the main lodge, unarmed. Another dark blur raced past us on Marc’s right—one of Di Carlo’s men still in pursuit. He slammed into the last tom’s back and they both hit the ground.

All three toms were down, but their screams and gunfire would surely draw more.

Teo Di Carlo slunk past me in cat form, huffing in approval of my takedown. More footsteps pounded behind us—my father, Bert Di Carlo, and at least one other tom in human form.

“You are so screwed,” the man beneath me gasped. I increased the pressure on his neck and more blood trickled across my tongue and down my chin. “You’re outnumbered. Malone called in a dozen extra enforcers and they’re just waiting for you assholes to start some shit. Looks like they’re going to get their wish.”

That time my jaw clenched involuntarily. An extra dozen men? He’s right. Even without guns, we were seriously outnumbered. They’d known we’d fight, rather than submit to an unfair trial. Or at least that there was a good possibility.

The footsteps slowed to a stop behind me. “Good work.” My father knelt beside me with a roll of duct tape, and I stepped off my prisoner, but didn’t release his neck until his wrists were taped.

Several feet away, other toms in human form were doing the same with the other two downed enemies—Aaron Taylor and my uncle Rick had sent their men to join the effort.

But our early victory was about to be trumped. From the other end of the complex came the unmistakable whisper-thud of cats running in feline form, sacrificing stealth for speed. Those in human form couldn’t hear it yet, but when Marc and the other cat both whined, I knew they’d heard.

My father hauled my prisoner to his feet and followed my gaze into the darkness ahead. “They’re coming?”

I nodded, then nudged the taped tom with the top of my head, ordering him to tell my Alpha what he’d told me. But he refused to speak, and there was no time for me to Shift and warn them.

The footsteps grew louder, and my father froze. “There are too many,” he said, loud enough for the others to hear. “But on the bright side, relatively speaking, they can’t carry guns in cat form.” Which meant that Alex had been telling the truth about how many pistols they’d brought. By my count, we’d confiscated all but one. Colin Dean was still armed.

I tugged my father’s sleeve. We should retreat. We couldn’t fight that many of them, even without guns. But my dad jerked his arm free.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “If they want into the cabin, they’ll get in. It’s better to fight here, where there’s room to maneuver.”

I started to argue, then realized that would be futile. We were outnumbered, but we’d been outnumbered before. And if we didn’t take this moment to stand up for ourselves, we might never get a second chance.

“Are you ready?” my father asked, while the last of our allies came to a stop in our midst, slick black chests heaving from their sprint, eyes flashing in the little available light.

I nodded, as the first of our enemies came into sight, a long line of snarling muzzles and fur gleaming beneath the quarter moon.

And when the first cat lunged, I leaped up to meet him.

Fourteen

We collided in midair and crashed to the ground together, the tom half crushing me. His jaw snapped shut inches from my neck. Either he didn’t know who he was fighting, or he didn’t care. Or Malone had finally decided I’d be easier to kill than to deal with.

I slashed with my rear feet. My claws sank into flesh and fur, then ripped through both. The tom screeched and tumbled off me. Blood poured from his thigh. I scrambled to my feet and lunged for him, jaw open and ready.

And was knocked off course in midair by another flying body.

My side hit the ground. Air whooshed from my lungs in a raspy feline grunt. I sucked in a deep breath and snorted out steam. The new tom straddled me, growling. Hesitating. He’d noticed I was female and was reluctant to kill me.

His mistake.

I lunged for his front right forepaw and crunched through bone. The tom howled and fell over. I rolled onto my feet and had only an instant to absorb what I saw.

Fighting. Brawling. Everywhere. At least three dozen toms, most in cat form, swiping, hissing, slashing, and ripping. Two of Malone’s to one of ours, in most cases.

On my left, someone snarled. I turned and raised one unsheathed claw as he pounced. I slashed. My claws snagged in muscle. The tom screeched. Blood flowed, fragrant and invigorating.

Pain bit into my left rear thigh, and I inhaled the scent of my own blood. I swiped blindly and ripped through more flesh. Fresh pain tore through me as teeth sank into my right foreleg. I snapped my own muzzle around the back of the tom’s neck and tasted more blood.