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The thunderbird nodded reluctantly. “It is only invoked in extreme cases.”

“Like this one?” I spread both arms to indicate the bird’s assault on our entire Pride.

That time Kai smiled, showing small, straight teeth he hadn’t possessed in bird form. “We were unanimous about this.”

I shook my head as if to clear it, and my hands curled into fists. “You unanimously decided to hold an innocent child responsible for an unfounded allegation of murder that has nothing to do with her? How is that honorable?”

The prisoner’s expression twisted into a mask of contempt. “We would not have hurt the child, even if she is our natural enemy. Nor would we have hurt you, if it could be helped. Finn was killed by a male cat, and in exchange for that information, we also agreed to try to remove the female cats from your encampment before the true melee begins.”

Melee?!
Were these
ninja
birds? Green Berets with feathers?

My father went stiff on the edge of my vision, and Marc growled at my back. And for a moment, I was actually too surprised for words. But then indignation surfaced through my shock, singeing my nerve endings with infant flames of anger. “You agreed to
remove
us?” I turned to my father before the bird could answer. “I told you it was Malone.” He’d initially tried to get his paws on Kaci through political maneuvering, and when that didn’t work, he’d breached our boundaries to take her by force. My brother Ethan had died defending her, and Kaci’s blossoming sense of security was shattered. As was her confidence in our ability to protect her.

“I think she’s right, Greg.” Marc stepped between us and I could see that he wanted to put an arm around me. But a public display of affection would be unprofessional in front of the prisoner. Even simply comforting me would make me look weak.

My father nodded, convinced. Then he turned toward the bars. “You have no phones? So how can we get in touch with your Flight?”

That cruel smile returned, though this time it seemed less confident. “You can’t. They can only be reached in person, and even if I told you where to go, you couldn’t get there on your own. And in this shape—” he lifted his broken arm, jaw clenched against the pain “—I can’t take you.”

“Then how did Malone do it?” I demanded, stepping close enough to touch the bars. I wanted to wrap my hands on them, shake them in anger. But I knew from experience that they were too strong to rattle, and that gripping them in my current state of desperation would make me look like the prisoner rather than the interrogator. Especially since he currently had the upper hand. And damn well knew it.

“If you mean our informant, he was never in our nest. Our search party found him with Finn’s body.”

“How did you make a deal with him, if you weren’t all there to agree?” Marc asked, and I was relieved to realize I wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand this hive mentality thing the birds evidently had going on.

Kai shrugged again. “We function as a unit. A promise from one of us will be honored by all.”

“So, if we were to convince you of our innocence, you would promise to stop dive-bombing our toms, and the rest of you would honor that promise?” I could work with that. I was good at convincing….

But Kai shook his head, and his lips tightened beneath another grimace of pain. “I cannot offer my word in contradiction to a standing agreement. Even if I wanted to. It would dishonor my Flight.”

Damn it!

My father turned away from the thunderbird without a word and headed for the stairs, which was our signal to follow. On the third step he paused and glanced at me over his shoulder. “Feed him, then close the door, but leave the window open.” Which would make us look merciful for the moment, and ensure that we’d get maximum effect out of closing it later, if we had to.

I nodded, and as my father left the basement, I turned back to the caged bird. “Do you eat normal food? People food?”

He grinned nastily. “I don’t suppose you have fresh carrion?” None that we were willing to let him eat. My stomach churned at the very thought.

But Marc only smiled coldly. “Personally, I feel more like poultry. Extra tasty crispy.”

“N
o one leaves the house in groups smaller than three,” my father said, and I groaned on the inside, though I acknowledged the necessity. We’d had similar manpower restrictions in the Montana mountains during my trial, thanks to the psychotic band of strays trying to forcibly recruit Kaci. But at least then we’d been able to fight back.

Unfortunately, we had no idea how to fight the thunderbirds, and no way of knowing when or where they’d strike. And we could neither chase nor track them. We were out of our comfort zone and out of our league, unless we could find a better way to defend ourselves. Or a way to contact Kai’s Flight.

“And if Kaci’s with you, make that four,” my father amended, as his gaze fell on the young tabby pressed so closely against me I felt like I’d grown an extra four limbs.

We’d assembled in the living room this time, because it was bigger than the office and because this was a mandatory briefing for every cat on the ranch. My dad had left the door open, to make it easier for those in our makeshift triage center to hear. They’d carefully lifted Charlie into Ethan’s bed, after stabilizing his neck as the doctor had instructed. Ideally, he’d have been left where he landed until Dr. Carver could examine him, but it was too cold on the ground to leave him there, and none of us were safe outside at the moment. With all the questions still unanswered, that much was clear.

I sat on the couch, smooshed between Kaci and Marc. Jace sat on Kaci’s other side. Around us, the room was full of toms and Alphas, though only Blackwell sat, in the white upholstered armchair. The old mule looked like he was about to collapse, and only sheer stubbornness kept his spine straight. Well, that and outrage over our latest crises.

Rage buzzed throughout the room, and the word
shock
didn’t begin to describe our bewilderment over the sudden invasion from above.

“Although, Kaci…” my father continued, his voice stern but gentle, “I think it’d be better if you stay inside for a while.”

Kaci nodded mutely. I could only imagine how she must have felt. A few months earlier, she’d been a normal thirteen-year-old, largely ignored by her older sister and crushing on human boys her own age. Now she was priceless, when she’d once been common. Coveted, when she had once been merely accepted. Fragile compared to those around her, in spite of her exponential gain in strength, when she’d once been considered strong and healthy for a girl her age.

Everything had changed for Kaci, and she had yet to find balance in her new life. Peace and acceptance of her past would be difficult to come by when someone was always trying to snatch her from her home.

Especially this most recent attempt.

“Here’s what we know….” All gazes tracked my father as he began to pace across the center of the room. “The thunderbirds think we killed one of their young men.” He held up one hand for silence when questions were called out from all over the room. “We’ll get to the particulars of that in a moment. But first, the bird Owen captured is named Kai. No last name—they don’t use them.”

“How do they tell one another apart?” my uncle asked, leaning against the far wall next to a morose and silent Ed Taylor. Jake’s family would not have time to truly mourn him until life returned to normal, and no one was willing to hazard a guess on how long that would take.

My dad shrugged. “My theory is that there are too few of them to necessitate repeating names.”

“Or they have a bunch of names,” I suggested. Dad started to frown at me, but I held up a hand to ask for patience. “I’m serious. They keep themselves completely set apart from human society. If we did that, even with our relatively large numbers, including the strays—” Blackwell scowled at that, but I ignored him “—would we need last names? We can tell at a single sniff what family a fellow cat is from, and if we didn’t live and work within the human society, why would we need last names?”

To my surprise, though Blackwell still scowled, everyone else actually seemed to be considering my point. “All I’m saying,” I continued, aiming my closing statement at Blackwell, “is that just because they only have one name apiece doesn’t mean there aren’t bunches of them. If their population was really that small, would they risk picking a fight with us?”

“Okay, that’s a valid point,” my father conceded. “We’ll hold off any assumption about the size of their population until we have further information from Mr….Kai.”

“Did he give you anything useful?” Blackwell tapped his cane softly on the carpet.

“In fact, Faythe and Marc did get two valuable bits of information from him. Without pulling out a single feather.” I couldn’t help but grin at that. My father would seize any opportunity to emphasize my worth to the other council members. Ditto for Marc. “First of all, thunderbirds have no Alpha.”

Bert Di Carlo spoke up from behind me, and I twisted to see him frowning. “You mean they’re currently without an Alpha, or they never had one?”

“Never had one,” I answered. My father raised one brow but let me continue, so I bobbed my head at him briefly in thanks. “According to Kai, they make decisions as a group.”

“Like a democracy?” Kaci’s bright brown eyes shone with the first glimpse of curiosity I’d seen from her in more than a week—since I’d evaded her questions about my sex life. “So they, like, vote?”

“I don’t think it’s quite that simple. Or maybe it’s not quite that complicated.” I shrugged and altered my focus to address the entire room. “I don’t entirely understand, but the impression I get is that they make decisions as a single unit, but that it’s nothing so formal as an actual vote. And their word is their law. Literally. Kai refuses to break a vow from his Flight, or even contradict it. Even if we convince him that we’re innocent.”

“So, they’re honorable murderers?” Jace shifted on the couch to look at me around Kaci’s head, but my father answered.

“They don’t see it as murder. They’re avenging the death of one of their own, and they’ve been told by one of
our
own that we’re responsible for that death—a young thunderbird named Finn.”

“Who told them that?” Ed Taylor demanded, pushing off against the wall to stand straight, his still-well-toned arms bulging against the material of a pale blue button-down shirt.

“Is it true?” Blackwell asked softly, before anyone could answer Taylor’s question.

My father sighed and stopped pacing to face the elderly Alpha. “I don’t think so, but we can’t confirm that without more information, which Kai is unwilling to give us at the moment. But as soon as we’re finished here, we’ll begin contacting our Pride members for questioning one at a time. That will take a while, but I don’t see any better course of action right now.”

Blackwell nodded reluctantly, and my dad turned to Taylor.

“As for who’s accusing us…” He glanced at me, then back to his fellow Alpha. “Logic and—frankly, gut instinct—would point to Calvin Malone.”

I was watching Paul Blackwell as my father spoke, and as I’d expected, his face flushed in anger and his chest puffed out dramatically. If he’d had fur in that moment, it would have been standing on end. “You cannot go around accusing Calvin of everything that goes wrong, just because you don’t like him. You have no proof he was involved in tagging those strays, and none to show for this, either!”

No, we had no proof that Malone was responsible for implanting tracking devices in several of the strays we’d fought when Marc was missing, but we
did
have proof implicating Milo Mitchell—Malone’s strongest ally. Unfortunately, while tagging strays was immoral without a doubt, it wasn’t illegal, technically speaking, and we currently lacked enough votes on the council to remedy that. So our case against Mitchell—and against Malone by extension—was on hold. Indefinitely. Another massive thorn in my already tender side.

My father remained much calmer than I felt, though I was proud of myself for biting my tongue. Literally. “We’re not accusing him, Paul. We’re suspecting him. Strongly.”

“Because he’s opposing your bid for council chair?”

“Because at their informant’s request, the thunderbirds have agreed to try to remove the tabbies from the ranch before the height of their assault. Calvin Malone has publicly stated that he wants Kaci and Manx removed from the Lazy S, and that he’d rather see Faythe set back on the ‘proper’ path for a young woman. Who would
you
consider a more likely suspect?”

Blackwell faltered, and the flush faded from his cheeks as his gaze dropped to the curve of his cane. “He wouldn’t do this. I know you and Calvin don’t get along—I don’t see eye to eye with him on everything, either—but he would never do this. Conspiring against a fellow Alpha with a hostile third party—one of another species! That’s…treason.”

“Yes.” My father let the quiet gravity of his voice resonate throughout the room. “It is.”

Blackwell stood unsteadily and stared at the ground before finally meeting my dad’s expectant gaze. “You know I can’t act without proof, and I only have a week left as council chair, anyway. But I will launch a formal investigation into this. Today.”

“Why should we trust your investigators?” Bert Di Carlo looked almost as outraged as Blackwell looked suddenly exhausted. And every bit of his seventy-two years.

“Because you just volunteered for the job.” The old man met Di Carlo’s gaze gravely. “I’ll pair you with Nick Davidson, to keep things even.” Two days earlier Davidson had officially thrown his weight behind Malone. “If Calvin is responsible for this, you have one week to bring me proof. After that, the point is moot.”

Di Carlo nodded and Blackwell turned back to my dad. “Where can I make some calls?”

“My office.” My father waved one hand toward the door, gesturing for the older Alpha to help himself. Blackwell made his way to the hall, and my dad turned to the rest of us. “My enforcers, start at the top of your call tree and work your way down. Pass me the phone if you find someone who’s ever seen a thunderbird, or knows anything about them. Even if it’s just a rumor, or an old Dam’s tale. If they know anything more than that thunderbirds can fly, I want to talk to them.”

We’d made out the call lists the week before, after Owen had spent hours calling on south-central Pride toms to help patrol the borders and search for Marc in the Mississippi woods. Now each of us had a roster, and—my idea—every tom in the Pride had a contact at the ranch. A go-to guy for problems or reports, in case my father was out. Or busy with any of one of the myriad disasters currently plaguing our Pride.

For the next hour, I sat at the long dining room table with my fellow enforcers, slowly crossing name after name off my list. The other Alphas had set their able-bodied men to similar tasks, searching for information among their own members. Because regardless of who killed this thunderbird, chances were slim that the murder happened on our land. We’d been patrolling pretty obsessively since Ethan died; the non-enforcer toms had been taking shifts at the borders ever since. We’d insisted, though two had lost their jobs due to excessive absences.

A lost job meant little compared to another lost tom.

I set the phone down after my last call and looked up to find Jace watching me from across the table. In the hall, Marc was in an animated discussion with one of the newly unemployed toms, who was not happy with his current assignment. All the others were still speaking into their own phones, so for a moment, I let Jace look. And I looked back, my heart aching with each labored beat.

After several bittersweet seconds, the rumble of a familiar engine outside pulled my gaze from Jace.
Dr. Carver
.

My father rushed toward the front door, cell phone pressed to one ear. “Pull as close as you can to the porch. We’ll come out and get you.” Because on his own, Dr. Carver would make just as appealing a target for any nearby thunderbirds as Charlie had. More so, if they knew who he was. “Marc? Vic?” my father called, out of sight now. But I beat the guys into the hall.

“No,” my Alpha said as I reached for the doorknob. He held up my arm by the wrist of my cast. “If you don’t give yourself a chance to heal, you won’t do us any good when we go after Malone.”

“Good point,” I said, and he looked surprised as I reluctantly stepped aside so Vic could open the door. Marc brushed one finger down my cheek and shot me a sympathetic smile before following his Alpha and his former field partner outside.

I watched through the tall, narrow sidelight window while they rushed down the front steps just as Carver swung open his car door. Two birds circled ominously overhead, low enough that their size and wing-claws were obvious. As Carver twisted to grab his bag from the passenger seat, both birds swooped to a sudden, staggeringly graceful landing in the middle of the front yard, Shifting even as their newly formed feet touched the ground. For several long moments, they faced off against Marc and Vic, with nothing but Carver’s car and fifty feet of earth between them.

My father stood firm on the bottom step, and the doc sat frozen in his seat, staring in awe at our unwelcome visitors. Suddenly feathers sprouted across the arms of one bird and he stepped up onto his bare toes, as if to launch himself at the car. Marc slapped his empty palm with the gigantic wrench he carried, growling menacingly. The bird stood down, apparently content to remain a silent threat while they were outnumbered, and a soft sigh of relief slipped from me.

My father waved his men forward and Carver stepped from the car and was ushered inside by both toms. Our Alpha remained on the porch, alone and undefended as a show of strength. In truth, any one of us could have been at his side in less than a second. But sometimes appearance is as important as reality.

“Kai is alive but in a lot of pain,” he called in a strong, steady voice. “If you want him back, put me in touch with your Flight.” With that, he turned his back on the birds—a show of confidence as well as an insult—and walked into the house.

He pulled the door closed, and I turned to find the hall packed with toms. “There’s nothing to see,” my father declared, and as the toms slowly dispersed, he turned to Carver. “Good to see you again, Danny. What’s it been? A week?”