“Dodd drove them to Henderson and helped Teo get cleaned up and bandaged in the hotel. They’re fine for the moment.”

Thank goodness. I’m not sure I could have handled it if anything had happened to Des. Or to Manx, for that matter.

“Speaking of hotels…” my father continued. “I don’t suppose you’re anywhere near one?”

I huffed and squinted in the dim light. “Not unless the Wicked Witch is renting out rooms in the gingerbread cottage. I’m on a gravel road in the middle of the woods, in the foothills of some small mountain range.”

Concern and anger thickened my father’s voice, like he needed to clear his throat. “Okay, what’s your status? Did they give you any supplies?”

I rolled my eyes. “They didn’t even give me a hearty farewell. I have my black leather jacket, my hiking boots, my cell, and my wallet. Which means I have ID and about thirty bucks in cash, if memory serves.”

“No water? Food?”

“Nothing but the memory of my last meal.” My mother’s chili, the night before.

“I’ll tell the guys to stop for supplies,” Michael said in the background.

“Are you dehydrated? Injured?” My dad’s words were clipped short in anger now, but his fury wasn’t directed at me. It was for the thunderbirds who’d dropped me into the middle of nowhere without a thought for my well-being. And likely for Malone, who was responsible for this whole clusterfuck in the first place.

“I’m thirsty, but intact.” The only marks on me—other than my broken arm—were deep bruises from the thunderbirds’ talons. “I can manage a bit of a hike, so long as I know someone’s coming for me.”

That knowledge kept my anger and frustration from blossoming into despair and panic. Even if the idea of Marc and Jace cooped up together in a car did make my stomach churn with dread. “So, we’re going after proof?”

My father’s exhalation was too heavy to be called a sigh, and I pictured him rubbing his forehead. “Yes. But I need you all focused on the job. No petty squabbling.”

I closed my eyes as a pang of dread rang through me. Had he noticed tension between Marc and Jace? Had Marc noticed?

“Hopefully I don’t have to tell you how bad things will be if you get caught.”

“Of course not.” My heart pounded painfully at the mere thought. After Brett’s death, there was no doubt that if Malone found us on his property, he’d execute both Marc and Jace—and probably make me watch—then lock me up until he figured out how to make me cooperate. Which would never happen. He’d have to kill me first.

“Good. The rest of us will continue training for the real fight, and if you get caught, we’ll just move up our plans and come after you.”

But we both knew that by the time the cavalry arrived, should we need them, I might be the only one left to save. “I should probably go.” I glanced at my phone, then held it back up to my ear. “I’ve got less than half power, and I need to be able to get in touch with the guys.”