“We are ready?” She took Des when Kaci held him out to her, obviously aware of all the eyes focused on her. Including Mateo’s.

“We are.” As ready as we were going to get, anyway.

My father stepped forward, holding the pistol, and gestured toward his left. The guys—all except Mateo—headed for the front door. My dad turned to me one last time. “Carey Dodd’s already in place waiting for you. You have his number, right?”

“Yeah.” I’d programmed it into my phone, just in case.

“Good. Even if they catch on, I don’t think the birds will follow you into the woods, but keep your ears open, just in case.”

“We will,” Kaci said, clutching her small flashlight, and my dad spared a moment to smile at her.

“Call me as soon as you make it to the car,” he said, and I nodded, one hand on the back doorknob. “Wait for your mother’s signal,” he warned, then jogged down the dark hall to join the rest of the men.

“Okay, let’s go.” My dad opened the front door.

My pulse raced, and I wondered if birds could hear well enough to know that.

My Alpha stepped onto the porch, the gun held ready. Marc and Vic fanned out to either side of him, Jace and Parker beyond them. Each enforcer carried a rudimentary weapon, and because we were all enamored of Lucas’s impale-them-in-midflight approach, all the weapons had at least one sharp end.

The plan was simple: the guys would make a bit of a fuss, demanding the birds restore our power. There wasn’t a chance in hell that would happen, but hopefully they’d cause enough of a distraction to let us slip out the back door and into the woods without the birds noticing.

It was a hell of a risk—but we were out of options.

“Beck!” my father shouted from the front porch, and through the windows, I caught the glare of someone’s flashlight beam, streaking toward the sky like a spotlight. “We need to talk!”

For a moment, there was only silence, but for the racing pulses of those of us waiting, and I was sure our little ruse would fail. Manx, Des, and Kaci would be stuck here with the rest of us, in danger once the real fighting began.

But then that too-familiar thunder of wings roared from the front of the property, and I exhaled softly in relief. They were coming.

The noise of their approach would cover the sounds of us leaving, but we couldn’t afford to break for the woods until they’d all landed, because their eyesight—while not as good in the dark as ours—was much better than their hearing, and they might easily catch a glimpse of movement in the backyard from the air.

So we waited, and I watched in the dark with my cat eyes as my mother peered anxiously through the front window. When the wind-beating racket finally faded and the last of the bird-bodies thumped to the ground, my father began his spiel. And my mother waved frantically behind her back with one hand.