Fists clenched at his sides, Luiz growled and lunged forward. I hopped back and found myself against the wall. He caught my wrist and jerked me forward. My shoulder popped, and an echo of pain flared to life from the injury I’d sustained at his brother’s hands in June.

Twisting, I let my right leg fly, aiming for his side. He turned and shoved me. Hard. I hit the floor again, and his remaining boot slammed into the left side of my rib cage.

I felt several tiny pops. Pain ripped through my side. A scream tore from my throat. Every breath sent fire blazing through my chest.

Luiz pulled his foot back to take another shot. A feline growl rippled through the air behind him. He dropped my hand and froze. Then he turned slowly, backing away from us both as he went.

Smart tomcat. He wasn’t going to leave either of us at his back.

I looked at the cat he’d just exposed, ful y expecting to see Marc.

It was my mother, her black coat gleaming in the light from the bathroom. Her lips were pul ed back from her teeth in a snarl. Her claws were unsheathed, the points pressing little dimples into the exercise mat.

She was one mad mother.

My dam padded slowly toward Luiz, and he took another step back.

“Good kitty,” he said, fear thickening his accent. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped into his eyes. He blinked it away but made no move to wipe his forehead. Sudden movements triggered a cat’s pouncing instinct, and he knew much better than to risk it.

I scooted sideways, watching my mother advance on her prey. Left hand pressed to my injured ribs, I used my right arm to push myself toward the weight bench.

Luiz bent slowly. His eyes flicked toward the ground. I fol owed his gaze to the dart that had bounced off the metal chair.

My mother growled. Luiz froze in an uncomfortable-looking half squat. He glanced from my mother to the dart one more time. I pul ed myself up using the leg press for balance. Luiz dropped to his ass on the concrete, his hand groping for the feathered needle.

My mother pounced, driving him to the ground. Her claws shredded his shoulders on contact.

He screamed and seized her neck in one hand. His fingers clenched her throat, bicep bulging as he tried to hold her at arm’s length. Too late, I saw his other arm swing up, the dart clenched in his fist.

He stabbed my mother in the side with the tranquilizer. She roared in pain, and in fury. Her left claw ripped deeper into his right shoulder.

White bone flashed for an instant before blood filled the wound and poured onto the concrete.

Luiz wrapped his other hand around my mother’s throat, squeezing harder.

Her eyes rolled up into her head. Her paws went limp. Either the tranquilizer had kicked in already, or he’d actually choked her into unconsciousness. I couldn’t tell which, but I feared the worst.

I hobbled four steps to the dumbbell stand, pain shooting through my chest and side with each jarring step. Hissing in agony, I heaved a forty-pound free weight from its groove.

Four feet away, Luiz had my mother on her side. Her tail twitched, and he bled all over her from his shredded shoulders. His right arm hung limp at his side, but somehow his left one still worked in spite of the mauling.

Forcing my feet into motion, I pulled the dumbbell up as high as I could. Two feet away, I swung it forward. Luiz looked up just in time. His eyes widened in surprise, and in sudden fear. The weight crashed down on him, crumpling his forehead with a horrific, wet, crunching sound.

I pulled the dumbbell from the gory wound and Luiz’s corpse fell on my mother’s torso. My fist opened, and the dumbbell dropped to the concrete. I sank onto the ground, still holding my left side, and used my right hand to shove him off my mother and onto the floor.

My gaze accidentally grazed Luiz, and I closed my eyes to block out what I’d seen. What I’d done to him. He no longer had a face. He had only a crater, with teeth embedded in mutilated, wet red flesh.

My eyes still closed, I ran one hand over my mother, feeling for her chest. I found it, and as my hand trailed higher through her fur, I opened my eyes. Her chest rose once beneath my hand, and air exploded from my lungs in relief. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath.

Fresh pain shot through my side from the forceful exhalation, but I didn’t care. My mother was alive. Sedated, but hopefully okay. I lay next to her on my good side and snuggled into her fur, my tears mingling with Luiz’s blood in a puddle on the floor.

That’s how Marc found us, bloody and bruised, but alive. Very much alive.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“There she goes! That woman never learns.” Ethan leaned half off of his chair in anticipation. On screen, Karen White stared into the dark forest, clad only in her nightclothes.

“Yeah, but you’d do the same thing,” Jace countered from the living-room couch. “You hear a howl in the woods, you gotta go investigate. It’s instinct.”

In the chair opposite Ethan, Marc snorted. He didn’t have much to say lately, and he seemed reluctant to be alone with me. So I stayed out of his way. For now.

“It’s not instinct for humans,” Vic insisted from the other end of the couch, twisting to snatch the popcorn bowl from Parker, who sat on the floor at his feet.

I sat curled up in an armchair near the door, watching the guys watch The Howling instead of reading the book open in front of me. I’d been on the same page for three days.

“She’ll get what’s coming to her in the end,” Ethan said, eyes glued to the screen. He’d barely left Jace’s side since he got home from Jamey’s memorial, almost a month earlier. He teased his best friend mercilessly about being seriously injured twice in one season, but he cared for Jace just as diligently as our mother did, placing most of his faith in iPod therapy, rather than in pills and bandages.