When we were far enough from the house, I decided it was safe enough to risk a little light, and the walk was a bit easier with two flashlight beams lighting the way.

When the trees began to thin, I called Dodd’s cell phone and had him start his engine. We used the rumble to guide us the last eighth of a mile or so, and were relieved to step out of the forest less than twenty feet from the waiting vehicle.

Dodd jumped from the driver’s seat of his SUV and rushed to open the back door for Manx and Kaci. Kaci crawled in first, then took the baby while Manx got settled in the middle of the bench seat. Until we could stop for a car seat, she’d have to hold the baby on her lap.

Teo scooted in next to Manx and pulled the door shut, and I sat up front with Dodd. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, pulling the seat belt tight across my lap.

“No problem.” He shifted into gear, then pulled the car smoothly onto the road. “We’re just lucky I’m not out patrolling tonight.”

That we were. Otherwise, our walk would have been much, much longer.

Half a mile later, I Shifted my eyes back, then autodialed my father. “Hey,” I said when he answered. “We’re free and clear.”

“Good. Call when you get to Henderson. We’re scrounging up weapons, and plan to make the first offensive in about an hour.”

For once, I had no idea what to say. Everything I could think of—be careful, watch out for Mom—seemed a bit obvious. Nothing an Alpha would need to hear. So I swallowed the grapefruit-size lump in my throat and told him the truth. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, Kitten. Watch out for them.”

“I will. Will you tell Marc I love him?”

He laughed, a sound of genuine amusement, when I really needed to hear exactly that. “He already knows.”

We said goodbye again, and I slid my phone into my pocket, then twisted to accept the tire iron Manx handed me. Kaci sat in the middle row, holding a hammer. “Hey, be careful.…”

“Oh, shit!” Dodd stomped on the brakes. The van started to skid. Teo threw out one hand to protect Manx and Des. Kaci slammed into the back of the driver’s seat. I flew forward, then my seat belt snapped tight against my hip.

Stunned, I dropped into my seat—and screamed. Fifty feet ahead, and closing with every second, the largest thunderbird I’d ever seen soared right for us, lit from beneath by our headlights. His talons clutched something big, and dark, and obviously heavy.

Before Dodd could safely change course, the bird opened his talons, directly over us. Whatever he was carrying slammed into the hood of the van.

We all screamed. The van swerved. I rocked violently from side to side as Dodd tried to control the vehicle. And I could only stare at the huge boulder deeply embedded in the hood, pinning the thick canvas it had been carried in.