I ran my tongue over my front teeth and discovered they had Shifted, too. Convenient. And I’d barely felt it that time.

Marc’s prey remained silent.

I dropped into a nimble squat and picked up a large branch with my left hand. The ground was littered with them, probably casualties of the recent ice storm. When I rose, Deep Throat’s gaze followed me. “Last chance. Who the hell are you?”

His focus shifted from me to Marc—who growled—then back to me. But his mouth remained closed.

I shrugged. “Your choice.” I swung the branch at his shoulder with both hands, my left arm carrying most of the force. Deep Throat brought his arm up in self-defense. The thick end of the branch slammed into his forearm hard enough to smash the stick. And his ulna.

The tom screamed once, then cut the sound off with a display of willpower I couldn’t help but admire. His arm swelled almost instantly. I swallowed my horror and observed the damage with a buffer of detachment. His arm looked…bent. And not at the joint.

“Your name,” I said calmly, while he stared at me in growing fear and anger.

“Gary Rogers.”

Good boy. He gave up both names at once.

“Gary, is Jace still alive?”

“I don’t know,” he said. I knelt to pick up another thick branch, and he rushed on. “Really. They’re waiting until his mom’s out of earshot. He may still be okay.”

“Where is he?”

Gary shrugged. “He could be anywhere.” I lifted the new branch. “But Cal won’t let him sleep in the main house. He’s probably in the back outbuilding.”

“Thank you, Gary.” I lifted the limb and swung before he could protest. The branch slammed into his head. Gary crumpled to the ground.

I glanced at Marc and dropped the branch. “Let me tape them up, then we’ll go.” We couldn’t afford for them to wake up and alert the rest of their Pride, and I wasn’t going to kill either of them now that they were no longer an immediate threat.

Marc’s backpack lay on the ground where I’d dropped it during my leap into the clearing, and I dug through it for the duct tape. Marc kept watch over Jess while I taped Gary’s mouth and bound his ankles, moving awkwardly to spare my right wrist. Then I rolled him over and taped his wrists behind his back, taking no particular care with his broken arm.

Jess got the same treatment, but when I stood to stuff the tape back into the bag, Marc nudged the unconscious tom with his nose and whined.

“He’s out cold,” I said, zipping the bag. “Let’s go.”

But Marc only sniffed Jess’s hands, then looked up and pointed his muzzle at my chest.

I rolled my eyes, finally understanding the question. “Yeah, the bastard groped me. But I broke his balls. I’d say we’re even.”

Marc shook his head and continued to sniff the tom’s hands, then whined at me some more.