“You didn’t tell her?” I frowned at Michael, though the movement hurt every muscle in my face.

He shrugged miserably. “No matter how I start, it sounds ridiculous. And, I have to admit, the automatic death sentence is a damn strong deterrent.” He turned to Holly then, still kneeling, and put one hand on her leg, and his love shone even through his fear and frustration. “But I swear on my life that I am not in the mafia. None of us are.” Before she could argue, he turned back to the doc for an answer.

“Obviously Faythe’s nose is broken,” Carver said. “And I suspect she has a hairline skull fracture and a cracked rib. Other than that, she’s basically one big bruise. And there seems to be residual pain and soreness in her left hip and shoulder, from impact with the ground.”

“Impact…?” Michael raised one brow, at me this time, but Marc beat me to it.

“The bastard picked her up like a clean and jerk, and threw her at the ground. Then he tried to kick her face in.”

“Damn it, Faythe…” Michael swore, standing, and his green eyes darkened with rage like I’d rarely seen in him. “I’ll kill him.”

“You’ll have to wait in line,” Jace said, just as Holly squeaked, “You kill people?”

“Michael. I’ll be fine, and we have bigger things to worry about.” I cleared my throat and summoned my Alpha voice, hoping it hadn’t been revoked in light of my humiliating near-death experience. “First of all, sleeping arrangements. We’re going to be here for a few days at least, and the quarters are obviously cramped. Though we are grateful for the ‘safe house.’” I smiled at Marc, and he tried to smile back, but obviously my broken face kind of killed the humor. “Marc, do you still have those air mattresses from last time?”

“Yeah. Two of them. In the hall closet. And there’s a hand pump, too.”

“Good. Take Parker into town and buy several more. And get an electric pump, or we’ll never get them all blown up. Also, blankets and pillows. Use Parker’s company card.” Which my father had issued to each of us, for Pride business expenses. And this definitely qualified, even if we weren’t officially in the Pride anymore.

Marc nodded, though I could tell from his scowl that he didn’t want to leave me here. But he wouldn’t argue, because it wouldn’t be safe for Parker to go into town—in the free zone—without him. The local stray population knew Marc’s scent from the time he’d spent here, and most of them would know what he’d suffered to help them, after Malone’s plot to tag them all with GPS tracking chips.

“Mom…” I turned, holding my sore side, to find her watching me, one arm linked through Ryan’s. “You, Kaci, and Manx can stay in the front bedroom. Michael, you and Holly take the middle room. It’s small, but you’ll have it to yourselves.” For at least some semblance of privacy, though we’d be able to hear anything they said. “The guys can camp out in here.

“Ryan…” I started, then stopped. I wanted to kick him out. Driving the refugees into the free zone didn’t absolve him of past crimes, and I still couldn’t look at him without remembering that he’d set me up to be kidnapped and sold. But we needed him, and I couldn’t let my personal grudges stand in the way of the Pride’s well-being. The greater good, Faythe.

“Are you staying?” I finally asked. “Can we trust you?”

“Yes, on both counts.” Ryan nodded calmly. “I want to make up for—”

“No. You can’t.” I wanted there to be no mistake about that. “But you do owe me,” I said, and he nodded again. “Take Vic into town and get food. Lots of food. Manx, will you show them what kind of diapers you need?” I asked, and she nodded, but before she could move, Owen was already digging in her diaper bag for samples.

I looked around the room, taking it all in. Meeting each pair of eyes. Wishing desperately that my father were there. Had we buried him only that morning? It already felt like an eternity had passed since I’d seen him.

Marc hovered near the door, holding his car keys, ready for action as usual. Jace stood in the doorway to the hall, watching me carefully, his expression a mixture of concern for me and…restlessness. He looked like he wanted to do something about our current situation, and standing still was about to kill him.

Most of the other guys looked pissed off and a little disoriented, but not truly traumatized by our forced relocation, because the burden wasn’t theirs, and neither was the responsibility. They had the luxury of following orders, and evidently the confidence that I would know what to do soon, if I didn’t already. That I could lead them.

If only I had that same confidence in myself.

My mother looked exhausted, plain and simple. I caught Ryan’s attention and nodded subtly toward an empty armchair, then pointedly at our mother. He led her to sit.

Kaci sat glued to my side, oblivious to the many bruises my clothes hid, clinging to the only thing she understood, the only thing she still had, when the rest of her world had been ripped out from under her. She was homeless and on the run—again—and the only difference this time was that she wasn’t alone. And for the moment, that was all I had to offer her.

Holly… My biggest regret of the day—other than not being able to pound Dean into a large puddle of pureed tomcat—was that Holly had been with us when the proverbial shit hit the fan. But truthfully, I wasn’t sure how safe the south-central territory would be for her now, without us there, and the only alternative would mean separating her from her husband.