Out of options now, I slowed to first a jog, then a walk, one hand pressed to my left side. Then I stopped entirely. Behind me, the cat’s steps slowed too, which I took as further proof he was trying to catch me, not kill me. Unfortunately, that knowledge wasn’t very reassuring. If he got close enough, he could knock me out with the swipe of one sheathed claw, then drag me anywhere he wanted.

I turned to face the stray, leaning against the nearest tree trunk, and immediately held my palm out in the universal signal for “stop.”

The stray threw his head back and roared, and his fury echoed throughout the trees. It was pretty impressive. But it didn’t change my mind. I was not going with him.

He started forward, determination written in each firm step, and I backed away slowly. I was trapped again, and too exhausted to run. But I was my father’s daughter, and I would not go down without a fight.

My right hand curled into a fist, and I took my “ready” stance, showing the stray my intent. Then a deep growl rumbled over me, humming in my very bones. It was aggressive and angry—a very fine threat. With a very familiar feel…

Jace.

The stray’s head flew up, his focus fixed on the branches above me. I followed his gaze—briefly—and there was Jace, hunched on a thick limb to my right, canines bared, fur gleaming in a broad beam of silver moonlight.

The stray’s tail twitched once, drawing my eye. Then he pounced.

I screamed as his huge front paws slammed into my chest. The forest pitched wildly. My back hit the ground. My head thumped against an exposed root. Massive weight drove the air from my body, cutting off my cry of terror.

The stray glared down at me, teeth inches from my neck, breath hot against my chin. Panicked, I shoved at thick, fur-covered ribs, my mouth open and gasping for air my lungs had no room to accept, thanks to the hundred-and-seventy-plus-pound cat on my chest.

Jace growled above us, wordlessly warning the stray to release me or suffer the consequences. But he couldn’t pounce on the cat without squishing me, too.

That’s when I realized I was a hostage. The stray was threatening to kill me if Jace didn’t back off. And if one of them didn’t make a decision soon, the point would be moot, because I was suffocating.

Terror clawed at my chest, scorching my throat. My arms flapped helplessly, beating ineffectively against the stray’s sides.

“What good is a dead captive? She can’t breathe!”

My vision was already going gray when Marc’s voice cut through the buzzing in my ears. It was the sound of mercy. The sound of salvation.

It was likely the last sound I’d ever hear.