My head swam, then rolled to the side. Marc was there, his tail swishing furiously several feet away. But he couldn’t see me; he was backing the big guy into a tree. I was on my own.

“What’s your name, pretty puss?” Jess leered down at me, pinning me with his full weight on my hips and restricting my chest.

Move! I commanded my arms, but they were slow, the message from my brain sluggish.

“You idiot, that’s Faythe Sanders,” Deep Throat said, and Marc’s growl deepened. Pine needles whispered, stirred by the furious sweep of his tail. “Who else could it be?”

Ha! I had a reputation. Which you’ll lose pretty damn quickly if you don’t get your ass off the ground!

“Get off,” I whispered, with what little breath I’d regained. When Jess laughed again, I sucked in more air. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Nasty words from such a pretty mouth.” Jess ran one finger over my lower lip and I swung at him, left-handed. My fist slammed into his ribs, and he grunted again. His smile disappeared. He caught my fist in midair and yanked it over my head, while I pulled against him. My right fist followed, and the brace was little help. Pain shot through my arm when I tried to jerk it free. A second later, both my wrists were pinned to the ground in his left fist.

Marc’s growl grew louder, but Jess ignored him and glanced over his shoulder at his partner. “I must have done something right in another life—now the universe is throwin’ women at me.” His free hand trailed up my waist and over my left breast.

“Touch me again and I’ll break your fucking face,” I spat, adrenaline singeing every nerve ending in my body.

Pine needles rustled to my right, and Deep Throat groaned. “Shit, Jess, Calvin has plans for her, and they do not include your bastard kittens. Knock her out and give me a hand here.”

Jess frowned, and his thumb rubbed over my nipple.

“You fucking bastard,” I spat. Fury roared through me, and with my next blink, my vision Shifted. The forest faded into muted tones of green and brown, but Jess didn’t notice. He laughed again and leaned to the right, reaching for something. When he rose from my hips, I threw my right knee up as hard as I could. My kneecap slammed through soft tissue and into the bone beneath.

Jess howled and fell over sideways, clutching his ruined parts and shouting an inventive stream of profanity.

I rolled onto my knees, then leaped to my feet. I pulled my right leg back, then let it fly. My foot slammed into Jess’s temple. His eyes fluttered shut, and his head rolled to the side. His hands fell from his crotch to lie limp and half-curled on the ground.

I spared a moment to make sure he was still breathing, then turned toward Marc and the thick tom he had backed into the boughs of a broad pine tree. I stalked toward him, feeling more feline than human with my cat’s eyes. “What’s your name?” I asked, and was surprised to hear my voice come out as a half growl. Evidently more than my eyes had Shifted.

I ran my tongue over my front teeth and discovered they had Shifted, too. Convenient. And I’d barely felt it that time.

Marc’s prey remained silent.

I dropped into a nimble squat and picked up a large branch with my left hand. The ground was littered with them, probably casualties of the recent ice storm. When I rose, Deep Throat’s gaze followed me. “Last chance. Who the hell are you?”

His focus shifted from me to Marc—who growled—then back to me. But his mouth remained closed.

I shrugged. “Your choice.” I swung the branch at his shoulder with both hands, my left arm carrying most of the force. Deep Throat brought his arm up in self-defense. The thick end of the branch slammed into his forearm hard enough to smash the stick. And his ulna.

The tom screamed once, then cut the sound off with a display of willpower I couldn’t help but admire. His arm swelled almost instantly. I swallowed my horror and observed the damage with a buffer of detachment. His arm looked…bent. And not at the joint.

“Your name,” I said calmly, while he stared at me in growing fear and anger.

“Gary Rogers.”

Good boy. He gave up both names at once.

“Gary, is Jace still alive?”

“I don’t know,” he said. I knelt to pick up another thick branch, and he rushed on. “Really. They’re waiting until his mom’s out of earshot. He may still be okay.”

“Where is he?”

Gary shrugged. “He could be anywhere.” I lifted the new branch. “But Cal won’t let him sleep in the main house. He’s probably in the back outbuilding.”

“Thank you, Gary.” I lifted the limb and swung before he could protest. The branch slammed into his head. Gary crumpled to the ground.

I glanced at Marc and dropped the branch. “Let me tape them up, then we’ll go.” We couldn’t afford for them to wake up and alert the rest of their Pride, and I wasn’t going to kill either of them now that they were no longer an immediate threat.

Marc’s backpack lay on the ground where I’d dropped it during my leap into the clearing, and I dug through it for the duct tape. Marc kept watch over Jess while I taped Gary’s mouth and bound his ankles, moving awkwardly to spare my right wrist. Then I rolled him over and taped his wrists behind his back, taking no particular care with his broken arm.

Jess got the same treatment, but when I stood to stuff the tape back into the bag, Marc nudged the unconscious tom with his nose and whined.