Abby glared at me, accusation frosting her eyes. “So what?”

“He hasn’t exactly been helpful so far, has he? He may change his tune now that I’m out, but what if he doesn’t? What if he cal s Miguel, and they get back before I can get you out?”

Panic spread across her face. “We can’t let him do that.”

“Exactly. But I can’t just kil him.”

She nodded, as if she understood. “Because he’s your brother.”

“There’s that.” Although I wasn’t exactly feeling the familial bond right then.

“But also, we need him to cooperate.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“If Sean and Miguel call, and no one answers the phone, they’ll know something’s wrong. Either they’l turn around and come back, possibly before I’ve found the key, or they’l run. If they run, we may never catch them. Don’t you want them to pay for what they’ve done to you? And to Sara?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Hell, yeah. I want them to suffer like they made her suffer. And me.” The expression on her china-doll face was fierce enough to startle me. “So, what’s the plan?”

I grinned, relieved by her enthusiasm. I’d been afraid I’d have to talk her into it. “I say we let the punishment fit the crime.” I nodded toward my cage, stil standing open.

Abby’s forehead wrinkled in distaste. “You’re gonna put him in there with Eric?”

I shrugged. “I’d rather put him in the empty cage, but the bait’s already waiting in mine, and I’m not moving the body.” I wrapped my hands around hers on the bars and squeezed gently. “If you can wait until I lock up Ryan, I can get us both out of here. And…” I paused for emphasis. “I know who Miguel’s after.”

“Who?”

“Carissa Taylor.”

She flinched, and I was sure I knew what she was thinking. It was creepy to know that Carissa was going about her life, shopping with friends and talking on the phone, with no idea that in a few hours she might be locked up, awaiting her new existence as the personal property of some sadistic Alpha in the middle of the rain forest, thousands of miles from home.

I couldn’t let that happen.

“Can we stop him?” Abby asked, doubt drawing her frown into a grimace.

“The council can. But if we hurry, I think I know how they can catch him, too.

Are you okay with waiting?”

She stared at me, looking for some kind of reassurance, but I had nothing left to offer her. She sighed. “Yeah. But hurry.”

“I’l try.” Bending, I plucked my lock from the floor and stuffed it into my pocket, next to the key and the cel phone. “Hey, Abby, I need you to do one more thing,” I said, backing toward the bathroom beneath the stairs.

“What?”

“Scream.”

“Scream?” Her mouth turned up in a hesitant smile.

“Yeah. Scream as loud as you can. When Ryan comes in and asks you what’s wrong, point at Eric. I’l take care of the rest. Okay?”

She nodded. “Say when.”

I stepped into the bathroom and pulled the door most of the way closed, leaving a crack just wide enough for me to see through with one eye. “Now.”

Abby screamed. Boy, did she scream. It was every cliché in the book: bloodcurdling, glass-shattering, and eardrum-bursting. It was a high-pitched wave of sound that resonated in my bladder and probably startled dogs al over the neighborhood. It was perfect. She’d found the ideal outlet for her pent-up fright and pain.

Footsteps pounded on the floor overhead before she’d even closed her mouth.

Ryan threw the door open and rushed down the steps, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to investigate. “Abby, what the hel ?” he demanded, just out of my sight.

She pointed at my cage with her trembling right hand. The other was pressed to her mouth in very real horror.

Ryan came into view slowly, taking in my open cage and the body on the mattress. “Oh, fuck.”

Go look, I thought, mental y urging him forward.

“Oh, shit.” He turned to Abby, his face scared and pale. “Where’s Faythe?”

No, I thought. Go look at Eric. Go. But he didn’t go.

“Abby, where the hell is Faythe?” he asked again, approaching her cage with heavy, threatening steps. I was almost impressed.

She backed up and shook her head, her hand fal ing to hang limp at her side.

She wasn’t enjoying her performance at al , probably because art was imitating her real life. Her initial glee had fled at the first sign of my brother’s temper, which worried me on behalf of her recovery.

“Answer me!” Ryan shouted, slamming his fists on the bars. “They’l go after my mom, now tel me where the hel she is!”

Abby jumped when he yel ed. “Gone,” she whispered, real tears standing in her eyes. “She left me here.”

“No,” Ryan whispered, his denial simple and desperate.

“I think he’s stil breathing.” She pointed at the body on the mattress.

Good girl, I thought, pleased that she stil had the presence of mind to redirect Ryan’s focus.

He glanced back at Eric, and my hand tightened around the lock. “Oh, great.

What am I supposed to do, cal a doctor?” He threw his hands in the air, as if a mortally injured accomplice was a huge inconvenience to his busy schedule of television watching. Ryan stomped toward the open cage, dragging his feet in dread. The moment he crossed the threshold, I ran for it.