“I bet.” I’d never seen Manx fight, because she’d been pregnant when we…found her. But I understood her frustration over missing the fight. Unfortunately, without a weapon, or claws, even if she’d had time to Shift and someone to watch the baby, she could do little to defend herself beyond biting anything in her path.

“They killed the bird who stayed behind.” My father sounded both proud and amused. “Teo called to tell us what happened, and Dodd called a tow truck to pick them up, and once he got Teo and Manx to safety, I sent him back to pick up Marc and Jace.”

“Where are Manx and Teo now?”

“Dodd drove them to Henderson and helped Teo get cleaned up and bandaged in the hotel. They’re fine for the moment.”

Thank goodness. I’m not sure I could have handled it if anything had happened to Des. Or to Manx, for that matter.

“Speaking of hotels…” my father continued. “I don’t suppose you’re anywhere near one?”

I huffed and squinted in the dim light. “Not unless the Wicked Witch is renting out rooms in the gingerbread cottage. I’m on a gravel road in the middle of the woods, in the foothills of some small mountain range.”

Concern and anger thickened my father’s voice, like he needed to clear his throat. “Okay, what’s your status? Did they give you any supplies?”

I rolled my eyes. “They didn’t even give me a hearty farewell. I have my black leather jacket, my hiking boots, my cell, and my wallet. Which means I have ID and about thirty bucks in cash, if memory serves.”

“No water? Food?”

“Nothing but the memory of my last meal.” My mother’s chili, the night before.

“I’ll tell the guys to stop for supplies,” Michael said in the background.

“Are you dehydrated? Injured?” My dad’s words were clipped short in anger now, but his fury wasn’t directed at me. It was for the thunderbirds who’d dropped me into the middle of nowhere without a thought for my well-being. And likely for Malone, who was responsible for this whole clusterfuck in the first place.

“I’m thirsty, but intact.” The only marks on me—other than my broken arm—were deep bruises from the thunderbirds’ talons. “I can manage a bit of a hike, so long as I know someone’s coming for me.”

That knowledge kept my anger and frustration from blossoming into despair and panic. Even if the idea of Marc and Jace cooped up together in a car did make my stomach churn with dread. “So, we’re going after proof?”

My father’s exhalation was too heavy to be called a sigh, and I pictured him rubbing his forehead. “Yes. But I need you all focused on the job. No petty squabbling.”

I closed my eyes as a pang of dread rang through me. Had he noticed tension between Marc and Jace? Had Marc noticed?

“Hopefully I don’t have to tell you how bad things will be if you get caught.”

“Of course not.” My heart pounded painfully at the mere thought. After Brett’s death, there was no doubt that if Malone found us on his property, he’d execute both Marc and Jace—and probably make me watch—then lock me up until he figured out how to make me cooperate. Which would never happen. He’d have to kill me first.

“Good. The rest of us will continue training for the real fight, and if you get caught, we’ll just move up our plans and come after you.”

But we both knew that by the time the cavalry arrived, should we need them, I might be the only one left to save. “I should probably go.” I glanced at my phone, then held it back up to my ear. “I’ve got less than half power, and I need to be able to get in touch with the guys.”

My father hesitated, and in that silence, I heard everything he wanted to say to me, and everything I wanted to say to him. “Faythe, be careful.”

“I will. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

By the time I hung up, the sun had set, and its crimson glow had almost completely faded from the sky. I slid my phone into my pocket and Shifted my eyes into cat form. Then I zipped my jacket to my neck and shoved my hands in my pockets, where I was surprised and relieved to find my gloves. If the temperature dropped much more they might mean the difference between frostbite and simple numbness.

I stayed on the road, but had to pick my way over more large obstacles along the way, including two long-ago-stalled rusted vehicles. If the thunderbirds hadn’t damaged the road themselves, they’d certainly done no maintenance to keep it passable.

The next two and a half hours passed slowly and miserably. At first I moved at a good pace, determined to find a highway, or an intersecting road with a street sign, or even a cell tower. Anything I could direct the guys toward when they called. But it was eight long miles—by my best estimate—before I saw anything other than that stupid gravel road and trees to either side.

By the time I saw the water tower peeking over the trees to my east, bathed by floodlights, I was shivering uncontrollably, my teeth were chattering, and my toes, nose and the tips of my fingers had all gone numb. My pace had slowed to a crawl, and I was minutes from stopping to rub two sticks together on the chance that I turned out to be a naturally gifted wilderness survivor.

But the water tower fueled my resolve and I pressed on, desperate to read the letters wrapping around the sides of the tower. I forced my legs to move faster, bribing myself with promises of hot chocolate and homemade stew, though I was more likely to get protein bars and Coke, assuming the guys ever found me. I actually jumped when my cell rang and my fingers were so numb I could barely feel the phone as I pulled it from my pocket.