My dad was obviously listening, but only seemed half-convinced. “Even if they hadn’t killed anyone, invading another Pride’s territory is a declaration of war,” he half growled, taking two slow steps backward, toward his armchair. His movement out of my personal space was as much a sign of his concession to logic as was his suddenly reasonable tone, and I dared a soft, low exhalation of relief. “If we’re slow to respond, I look weak, and I cannot afford to look weak right now.”

“I know, Daddy, but…”

But he wasn’t done yet. “And because they did kill someone, a prompt response is even more important. Failing to avenge Ethan’s death dishonors his memory, and I will not be party to that.”

Knowing he would take it as a challenge, I resisted the urge to stand again and, instead, leaned forward on the couch, trying to convey the urgency of my position. I was rewarded when my father finally sank into his armchair, in control of his temper at last.

“He will be avenged, Daddy. I want that just as badly as everyone else.” I rested my elbows on my knees and clasped my hands together. “But going in too soon and losing to Malone would be dishonoring Ethan’s death, and getting a lot of people killed unnecessarily. And how does more death honor Ethan?”

“It doesn’t.” My father’s eyes closed in thought, and he leaned back in his chair. When he looked at me again, it was through normal, human eyes. “We will bury Ethan first. We will deal with our grief and our loss, so that when we face our enemies, we have nothing left to confront but anger and retribution. We will gather our allies around us and fight as a united front, to show our foes that we are not prey. We will not be picked off one sick little girl or one lone defender at a time.”

I sighed in relief, and Jace gave me a small, respectful nod.

My father’s eyes closed again, and his templed hands found the end of his chin. “But first, we will mourn our dead.”

“Well done,” Jace whispered from across the kitchen peninsula, and his gaze seemed to burn right through me, hotter than my first sip of fresh coffee. “You’re going to make a wonderful Alpha someday.”

“Thanks.” But my small triumph was bittersweet, in that it followed Ethan’s death but not Marc’s miraculous appearance. Nothing felt very good in the shadow of our Pride’s one-two punch.

“They’re going to find him, Faythe.” The weight of Jace’s gaze strengthened as his eyes held mine. “And I’m going to help.”

What? “No.” My eyes narrowed as I studied him, looking for the motive behind his offer. “You need to stay here and rest. Heal.” I glanced pointedly at his freshly wrapped arm. Dr. Carver wanted to monitor another Shift or two before the end of the day, to help accelerate his healing, but Jace would still be injured, and if he wanted to fight his birth Pride, he’d need all the rest he could get in the next few days.

“Faythe, no matter where you and I go from here, I don’t want Marc dead or suffering. And I swear I won’t so much as hug you while we’re out there.” His voice dropped even lower on the last word, but I glanced around anyway, to make sure we weren’t overheard. My father had enough on his hands without having to worry about my personal problems and how they’d affect the rest of the Pride.

Fortunately, we were alone in the kitchen, and the connecting dining room was empty, too. Not that that meant much, considering a werecat’s phenomenal hearing…

“Jace…”

“Don’t say it.” He cut me off with a firm look. “Let’s just find Marc and deal with Calvin. We can sort the rest of this out later. Okay?”

I hesitated, for once at a complete loss for what to say.

“Okay?” he repeated, and I found myself nodding, because he was offering me an easy way out. Procrastination and I were lifelong friends, and our reunion was pleasant. If not exactly welcome.

“Faythe!” My mother said from the doorway, startling me so badly I sloshed coffee onto the countertop. For a moment I thought she’d overheard too much, but then I realized she looked worried, not mad or even remotely critical. Her gray pageboy was mussed, her clothes wrinkled from sleeping in a chair, and her normally perfect posture was now slouched, as if the weight of the world rested solidly on her shoulders.

My pulse tripped in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“Kaci’s heart is racing, and she’s just thrown up everything she had for breakfast. She needs to Shift now, Faythe. Though I’m not sure she has the strength left for it.”

“Damn.” I blinked, trying to set aside my other problems and focus on the kitten in need. “Okay.” I would talk Kaci through her Shift, then, when I was sure she was okay, Jace, Dan, and I could leave for Mississippi. I glanced at Jace, then at my mother, and spoke in as low a whisper as I could manage. “Does she know about Ethan?”

My mother shook her head gravely, gray hair bobbing. “No, and I don’t think she should until she’s Shifted. She doesn’t need to worry about anything but her own health right now.”

For once, my mother and I were in perfect agreement. Jace and I followed her across the hall into the bedroom that had once been Michael’s.

Kaci looked like hell.

I sat in the chair my mother had occupied for the past couple of hours, leaning with my elbows propped on the mattress, one hand holding Kaci’s. Her palm was damp and hot, and sweat was beaded on her face and darkening her hair. She watched me through listless eyes, shivering even with the covers pulled up to her chest.