“It has to be someone who knows Faythe infected Andrew,” Ethan said, speaking around a bite of ham sandwich. “Otherwise, Andrew wouldn’t know that, either. So…who knows you bit him?”

“No one,” I said, turning from my father to face my youngest brother.

“I didn’t even understand what happened until tonight. But anyone who smells him will know who infected him—assuming the smeller recognizes my scent threaded through his. So…we’re back to someone who knows me. Or at least my scent.”

“Exactly,” my father said, obviously displeased with the new development. “I think we should put that phone call off for a little bit, until we have a better idea of who he’s with, and where they are—”

“Henderson,” Michael interrupted, amid another flurry of frantic keystrokes. “Andrew’s in Henderson, Texas. At least, he was this afternoon.”

“Are you sure?” My father stood to turn and look at Michael, at the desk behind him.

“Pretty sure.” Michael nodded, shoving his glasses farther up on his nose. “Those propellers Faythe heard weren’t helicopters. They were vintage aircraft from a World War Two demonstration team that did a big show this afternoon in Henderson, as part of the town’s centennial celebration. Complete with a pyrotechnic display, which no doubt explains the ‘gunfire.’”

“Well, that should make it pretty easy to find Andrew,” Vic said, though I could barely hear him over the grinding of gears in my own head. “Henderson’s only an hour from the ranch. He could be sitting outside the gate right now.”

Ethan choked on the last bite of his sandwich, and Jace pounded on his back. When my brother’s throat was clear, he said, “He could have been watching us for hours, for all we know.”

“He’s not here,” I said, surprised to hear how very calm my voice sounded, in contrast to how panicked I actually felt.

“Not yet. He said he had something else to take care of first.

Apparently I’m not his top priority at the moment.”

Out front, I heard the growl of an engine, and I turned toward the door in anticipation. But then I recognized the sound as Owen’s truck.

Where the hell had Owen gone? I’d hoped it was Marc. I needed to see his face, to settle the unease taking hold in the pit of my stomach. I needed to know he’d forgiven me for not telling him about the calls. That we were going to be okay, no matter what happened with Andrew. And considering he still didn’t know I’d infected my ex, a good outcome for us was far from guaranteed.

The front door opened, and footsteps clomped on the tiles. Owen was back from wherever he had gone.

“I’m sure you’re all going to start yelling at me for this…” Vic began, glancing around at the room in general. “But this may be a good time to bring the council up to speed. We have enough information now that they can’t afford to waste time arguing. They’ll have to—”

“Absolutely not!” I glared across the rug at him, then turned to face my father when he didn’t immediately back me up. To my horror, he sat with his eyes downcast and his hands templed beneath his chin, apparently actually considering Vic’s suggestion.

“What are we going to say?” I demanded, already picturing the shocked faces of the other Alphas. “‘The council chairman’s daughter accidental y infected her human boyfriend during a rough-’n’-tumble nooner, then he followed her home, leaving a trail of missing strippers in his wake.’”

My father released a tired, weighty sigh. “Faythe, they have a right to know. And they can help. The more men we have, the faster we can find Andrew and the tabby, and be done with this whole mess.”

My hand clenched the arm of the leather couch, my pulse racing.

“Daddy, no! We have to take care of this on our own. If we bring the council in before we get Andrew under control, they’re going to want my head mounted on a spike in the front yard.”

Behind me, the footsteps stopped. I was already turning as my last word faded into a heavy, tortured silence, and too late, it occurred to me that the clomping in the hall hadn’t come from cowboy boots.

Marc stood in the doorway, each arm wrapped around a brown paper bag. Our eyes met. I had a second to register the pain in his. Then the bags thumped to the hardwood floor, and he was gone.

Chapter Twenty

Jace and Vic ran after Marc, vaulting over the fallen bags and into the hall. Neither spared me a glance.

I leapt off the couch, a silent scream of anguish splitting my skull in two. On the floor in front of me, a half gallon of triple-chocolate-chunk ice cream rolled across the hardwood, stopping only when it bumped the toe of my sneaker. My favorite flavor. He’d gone out for ice cream, to apologize and make up.

Son of a bitch!

I stepped over the cardboard carton, and my father called my name. I ignored him and took off after the guys, stepping over four more cartons of ice cream, each a different flavor. In the hall, I tripped over a box of waffle cones and had to catch myself against the wall.

As I looked up, Vic disappeared out the back door, Jace and Marc ahead of him.

I ran down the hall after the guys, my sneakers slapping the tile. I called Marc, screaming his name with a desperation that bruised my soul. I knew he could hear me, but he didn’t answer.

I was only feet from the back door when someone grabbed my arm from behind. Ethan pulled me backward and stepped in front of me, completely blocking my path. “Get out of the way!” I screamed, trying to bump him aside and run past him. But he wouldn’t budge.