Or, more appropriately, a naked, winged woman.

“I will speak for the Flight,” she announced, in a voice that almost hurt to hear. Her dual tones were both high and screechy, as if her throat hadn’t fully Shifted. Which was a distinct possibility.

“What is your name?”

“Neve,” she announced, and offered no further title or rank.

“I am Greg Sanders, Alpha of the south-central Pride.” My father cleared his throat and made his formal pronouncement. “Hear this and consider yourselves warned. We did not kill your Flight member, nor do we bear any responsibility for his death, and we will not pay the price for a crime we did not commit. The next thunderbird who shows him or herself on this property will be shot on sight.”

He raised the gun, and even from inside the house I heard Neve gasp.

A thrill of satisfaction raced through me. She hadn’t seen that coming!

“You have to the count of three to leave, or I will make an example of you.”

I glanced at Jace in surprise. I’d wondered, when the female bird had appeared, if my father would actually shoot her. Most toms would rather die than hurt a woman of any species. Protectiveness was ingrained in them from birth.

“One.” My father aimed the pistol in a two-handed grip and flipped off the safety.

Neve made no move, so Marc raised the tranquilizer gun.

“Two.”

She still stood frozen, so Lucas slapped his crowbar into his opposite palm.

“Three.”

My dad fired the gun.

Neve tried to lift off. The bullet slammed into her left wing. She screeched and staggered backward. A powerful roar thundered from above. The next instant was a blur of wings, talons, and pale flesh against the dark night.

A tom screamed.

Lucas was gone.

Twelve

Kaci screamed and pounded on the window from the dining room, to my right. On the front steps, Marc spun to his left, tranquilizer gun raised and ready. But he had no clear shot. My father kept his pistol trained on Neve. His back and shoulders were so tense I was afraid his muscles would snap like stressed ropes.

Uncle Rick ran through the open front door onto the porch steps and I went after him, peering into the night for his son. My heart raced, demanding action. Instead, I sucked in a deep breath and forced myself to think.

A crescent moon shone through the cloud cover, too weak to illuminate much and the candles’ light only penetrated a few feet into the dark. Lucas’s enraged shouts echoed from somewhere to our left, and not too high up, giving us his general direction. But we couldn’t help him if we couldn’t see him.

I stepped to the back of the covered porch, out of immediate danger, and closed my eyes, already working on a partial Shift. Just my eyes. The bird was obviously having trouble with Lucas—no surprise, considering my cousin had to be nearly double his weight. If I could find them before they got too far away—or too high for Lucas to survive a fall—we could still save him.