“Are you enjoying life, Brett? Truly treasuring each breath? Because if it weren’t for me, you’d be rotting in the ground right now.”

“I know, but—”

“You owe me. You said, ‘Let me owe you, Faythe.’ So I’m going to let you.”

His sigh seemed to carry the weight of the world. “I already repaid you.”

“Yeah, well, that bit of information didn’t come in very handy.” When he woke from the attack that nearly killed him, Brett had warned me that his father would try to take the council chair. “Your dad jumped the gun and challenged mine before I even had a chance to warn him.”

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“I know.” I sank into my desk chair and picked up a novelty pen with a fuzzy purple feather sticking up from one end. “Okay, forget the favor. I’m asking you as a friend. We need this, Brett. You know what’s going on with the thunderbirds, don’t you?”

“Thunderbirds? What are you…?”

“Save it.” I dropped the pen on my desk. “Don’t insult me with lies. You’re better than that. You’re better than Calvin.”

Brett’s next exhalation was ragged, and twigs crunched beneath his boots. He was walking. Hopefully moving farther from the house. “I only have a minute. What do you want?”

“The truth. Is your dad doing this? Did he sic the birds on us?”

“Faythe, I can’t…He’ll kill me.”

“Jake Taylor’s dead, Brett. And Charlie Eames may never walk again, if he survives.” I shouldn’t have disclosed our damages to the enemy; that was on page one of the don’t-screw-your-own-Pride handbook. But you don’t make gains without taking risks, and I believed in Brett.

Of course, I’d believed in Dan Painter, too, but then his double agent act had nearly gotten me killed. But Brett would come through for us. He had to.…

“I’m sorry. I—”

“Apologies aren’t good enough, Brett. They almost got Kaci. You know what your father will do if he gets his paws on her.”

“He would never hurt her.”

“No, he’d just whore her out to one of your brothers the day she turns eighteen. Earlier, if he can pass it off as in the best interest of the species. Are you going to let him do that? Are you going to let him sell her in marriage just so he can get his sticky hands on our territory? Or the Di Carlos’?” Because Umberto Di Carlo had no heir, thanks to his daughter’s murder, and once he retired—or was forced into retirement—someone would have to take over his territory.

And in our world, he who has the tabbies has the power.

“Is that what you want for Kaci?” I asked when Brett didn’t answer. “Hell, is that what you want for Mel?” Melody Malone was only fourteen, and already being courted by several toms handpicked by her father. By all accounts she’d bought into his propaganda and believed that her decision had the power to make or break her Pride. She took the responsibility very seriously and would have done anything to please her father.