“Of course there is.” I rolled my eyes. Michael was ever the voice of doom, but he was only seeing half the facts. “Why would Pierce turn against us for turning Lance in, when Lance effectively sentenced our entire Pride—including both a defenseless tabby cat and his own brother—to death by letting Malone blame this whole thing on us? Why would he side with Lance and Malone over Parker and us? Especially considering how many fewer people will die if the thunderbirds know who really killed Finn?”

Michael started to answer, but Jace spoke up softly. “Do you really think Calvin’s going to tell Pierce the truth about why we gave Lance to the Flight?”

Shit! My head was spinning with details—or maybe with blood loss—and it was getting hard to hold all the facts in my mind.

“Of course not. Malone will accuse us of trying to save ourselves by turning the thunderbirds against him. Which is exactly what he did to us.” I let my head fall against the edge of the tub again, and my teeth ground together so hard my jaws ached. “But that doesn’t change anything. If we turn Lance in, Pierce will fight with Malone against us. But if we don’t, there won’t be enough of us left to fight Malone at all. And we’ll lose Kaci.”

I sat up and opened my eyes, pleased to find Jace’s gaze still steadily trained on mine.

“And, Daddy, I’m not willing to lose Kaci.”

“That’s what I was waiting to hear,” my father said, and his statement carried the bold weight of finality. He sounded almost as relieved as worried. “This is a tough call, Faythe, but it’s your call—yours and Marc’s and Jace’s—and I need you all to be sure. I think you’re doing the right thing, but I’m not going to ask you to kidnap a Pride cat and deliver him to his death if you don’t agree.”

I hesitated, and Jace’s hand wrapped around the fingers of my left hand. He squeezed gently and smiled. He had my back, no matter what. “All right. We’re going to do it. Assuming Marc’s with us.”

“He will be,” my father said. “He’ll always stand with you, Faythe.”

“I know.” I dropped my gaze from Jace’s. I couldn’t help it, though his hand was still warm in mine.

“Okay, I’ll cash out your plane tickets and see if there’s anything I can do to help you get out of the territory once you have Lance.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Be careful and keep me updated.”

“I will.”

Jace ended the call, and I turned the faucet on to heat up the water.

Fifteen minutes later, my cast was soft enough to bend with my bare hand, so Jace dug up a pair of scissors from the desk in the main room. They were old, and neither sterile nor sharp, but it was either that, or gnaw the damn thing off with my own teeth.

Jace took off his shirt and tossed it onto the bedroom floor to keep it dry, then helped me turn to face the side of the tub. I propped my cast on the edge, fist to fist with my gored left arm. “I’ll try not to move your arm, but your bone hasn’t fully mended yet, so this might hurt,” he said.