Fury crept up my spine in a white-hot blaze, but I forced it down. Their plans had obviously changed, and I needed to focus.

“So, the thunderbirds promised your dad they’d get the tabbies out, then they’d rip us to shreds, one by one?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah.” Brett sounded miserable.

“And you have proof?” Marc prodded.

“My testimony, and the dead bird’s feathers, stained with his killer’s blood. Dad told us to clean up the mess, and I kept a couple of the feathers. I had a feeling this would go downhill. But I’m not sure how much good they’ll do. These birds can’t distinguish one cat’s scent from another’s.”

“At least it’ll help with the council,” Jace said, voicing my exact thought. “But we’ll have to come up with some other way to prove it to the birds.”

“If we can even find them.” I frowned, suddenly overwhelmed by the new burden, when we could least afford it. Kai was going to have to talk—that’s all there was to it.

“I have to go. They’ve probably already noticed me missing,” Brett said, and twigs snapped as he made his way back toward the house from the woods.

“Wait, Paul Blackwell is here. You have to tell him what you told us.”

“I don’t have time now, but I’ll speak to him when I get there. But there’s one more thing. Our tom? The one who killed the thunderbird?”

“Yeah?” I stood, eager to report to my father.

“It was Lance Pierce.”

Parker’s brother.

Well, shit.

Eight

“Son of a bitch!” Jace pounded the arm of the couch and I jumped, his phone bouncing in my open palm. “To clear our name, we have to sell out Parker’s little brother. How’s that for a rock and a hard place?”

“We can’t just turn him over…” I started, but my words faded into silence as soft sobs and footsteps sounded down the hall. I made it to the doorway just as Kaci flung herself into my arms. “What’s wrong?” Though, really, the sheer number of ways she could have answered that question was staggering.

“He died. Charlie’s dead.”

“Oh, no…” I wrapped both arms around her as my father stepped out of the somber crowd of toms still gathered around Owen’s room, now staring at their feet as if they were afraid that eye contact might trigger tears.

Kaci was crying freely. She’d only met Charlie Eames that morning, but at her age, with all the tragedy she’d already witnessed, any death would have been traumatic. Murder, even more so.

My father’s gaze was heavy as Dr. Carver followed him into the hall, both of them headed our way. “What happened?” I asked, pulling Kaci into the room with me so they could come in.

“Internal bleeding.” Dr. Carver laid a hand on Kaci’s shoulder briefly, then sank wearily onto the couch next to Marc.

“Did we make it worse by moving him?” I had to ask. Not that the answer would change anything.