We were assuming Sean and Miguel would try something similar to the way they’d nabbed me two days earlier: catch me off guard and try to sedate me. Only this time I knew what was coming and would be prepared to evade the needle.

As soon as the first bad guy showed himself, Lucas, Vic and Parker would drop from the trees above. Together, they would hold him immobile for questioning. We still needed to know exactly what had happened to Luiz, and who the South American buyers were, among other things.

Then, once we had our answers, the guys had my permission to pound him to death with as much gusto as they liked.

Lucas and Vic had made a deal. Vic would take charge if Sean showed up alone, since he was the reason Sara had been targeted. But if Miguel attacked me by himself, Lucas would have free rein. He was confident that he could take the jungle cat al on his own, but if there was any doubt about that when the time came, the other two had my permission to jump in.

Marc, Ethan and Anthony would take off in cat form in search of whichever one hadn’t shown up.

If both rogues were stupid enough to show themselves at once, everyone would get in on the action. Oh, happy day.

As Marc recited his part in the plan, the importance of what we were about to do hit me with the force of a heavyweight’s right hook. This was our shot. Our only shot. The whole thing was my idea, but I couldn’t summon even a spark of pride for having thought up the plan we’d agreed on. I was terrified.

What if it didn’t work? Or worse, what if someone got hurt? It would be my fault. If anything went wrong, I would be to blame because I was in charge, at least nominal y. This was exactly the kind of responsibility I’d gone to school to avoid, yet there I was, buried in it up to my neck. But at least it was a figurative burial. I’d be pretty satisfied if I could end the night without requiring a literal one.

Ethan elbowed me in the ribs, and I glanced up to see that the powwow was over. It was go time.

We left the van in the garage on the assumption that Miguel would never see it unless he broke in, in which case we hoped to have him breathing through his neck before he had a chance to sniff around. At eight forty-five, Anthony, Ethan and Marc put their clothes in the van, along with mine, and went into the woods to Shift and find good hiding places.

Parker, Vic and Lucas double-checked their phones, then went to pick out trees they could climb easily on two legs. I watched them through the window in the back door until they disappeared down the path. The only one whose hiding spot was visible from the main house was Parker.

When the guys were in position, I sat on the tiled kitchen floor, my back against the dishwasher and Eric’s phone in my lap. Brian paced in front of the dining-room table. He was too wound up to sit. Just watching him made me nervous.

For the first fifteen minutes, I was fine. Almost excited. My body was a treasury of bruises, in al shapes, sizes and colors, and I was eager to share the wealth with Miguel. But as the minutes stretched into a half hour, my palms grew damp and Carissa’s pants started to cling to my legs. I tried to relax, aware that every drop of sweat soaking into the borrowed clothes made me smel less like Carissa and more like myself.

Every minute or so, I glanced at the digital clock on the cel -phone display. I was sure each time I looked that another quarter of an hour must have passed, but it never did. The clock was wrong. It had to be.

“Hey, Brian, what time do you have?” I whispered. I’m not sure why I whispered, except that it felt wrong to make noise in the dark. Irreverent, almost, like screaming in church. I’d turned on several lights upstairs and a lamp in the front of the living room so Miguel would think someone was home. But with only a single lamp lit, across the room and around a corner, the kitchen was a lair of shadows, hiding my worst fears among the dark, irregular shapes.

“Nine thirty-five,” Brian said. He’d whispered, too.

I glanced at the phone again. Damn. It was right.

My heart beat against my rib cage, as if demanding to be let out. I took a deep breath, trying to slow my racing pulse. Why am I so nervous? I’d begged Daddy for a chance to catch Miguel. I’d given away the next two and a half years of my life.

But now that the time had almost come, I was petrified.

I glanced at the phone again, checking the battery. It was fully charged when I found it and had only lost half of the available power in the hours since. So nothing was wrong with the phone. But what if one of the other phones had died? What if I went out to check and Miguel saw me? I’d ruin the entire setup. Better to sit still and wait. I hate waiting. I’m not very good at being stil , either. Not while I’m conscious, anyway.

Brian glanced at me in sympathy. I knew he could hear my heartbeat, and maybe even smel my fear. I smiled back, trying to pretend nothing was wrong, that I wasn’t about to take a leisurely strol down the footpath and into the claws of death.

Melodramatic? Me? Surely not.

The air conditioner clicked off, leaving us in total silence. I hadn’t even realized it was running until it stopped, and suddenly I heard nothing but my own pulse.

As I lifted the phone to check the time again, a single warbling yowl of pain pierced the stil ness, only to be cut off a second later. It came from the north.

Marc. My head swung toward the backyard. My neck popped but I barely registered the sound. In an instant I was up, running for the back door.

“Faythe, wait!” Brian shouted, stealth al but forgotten. I ignored him.

Footsteps pounded on the tile behind me. Plastic crunched as he stepped on Eric’s phone where I’d dropped it. I turned the doorknob but nothing happened. I howled in rage, panicked because I couldn’t disengage the lock. Why hadn’t we unlocked the doors?