This was the man who had killed Marisa Vega, Conner’s mother. The sheer fury of Conner’s leopard drove the other leopard off his feet repeatedly. The claws tore great rips in the sides and belly. Suma shuddered and tried to escape, but Conner’s leopard would have none of it. He seemed oblivious to the rending tears in his own body; instead, he seemed determined to literally tear Suma to pieces. It was only Suma’s strength and experience, a male in his prime, that kept him from being instantly killed. He seemed to know he was in trouble, and Ottila, who, despite the assault from Rio’s and Leonardo’s rifles, kept up his own intermittent fire, trying to aid his partner.

“Damn it, Isabeau, we’re going to get caught out here. Fucking finish him,” Rio snarled.

Leopard emotions were intense, and right now, she couldn’t see how either was going to give ground. Blood ran down the sides of one of them, and she realized after the first heart-stopping moment that this was how to identify Suma. Jeremiah must have shot him. His own blood, and that of Jeremiah, coated the fur. The red streaks were beginning to transfer to Conner’s coat, but he had nowhere near the same amount on him.

She took a breath and concentrated, blocking out everything the way Conner had told her to. At first she heard the roars, and growls, the shots, another bullet scattering leaves and dirt beside the two leopards. Then she was in a tunnel and there was only the leopard’s blood-encrusted fur and her. No one else. Nothing else. She aimed for the back of the neck.

Her heart pounded. Her mouth went dry. She was terrified of hitting Conner. The two furious leopards moved so fast, tangled, came apart, tangled again. So fast. Too fast. If she shot the wrong one . . . She took another breath, willing the bullet to go exactly where she put it, and squeezed the trigger.

Suma reared up, his eyes yellow and raging with hatred. So much hatred. She shivered as Conner took advantage, slashing at the exposed belly, ripping deep. Suma tumbled over and lay still, his eyes open, staring at her. His tongue hung out, his sides heaving. Blood bubbled around his muzzle. Conner went for the kill, sinking teeth into the throat and holding, suffocating the leopard.

A volley of shots rained down, clipping Isabeau’s skirt, throwing up dirt around her, striking along Conner’s flank so that he roared and whirled to face his new enemy. His enraged gaze landed on her. Her heart skipped a beat and then began pounding. The leopard, with one last act of hatred and vengeance, ripped open the exposed belly, turned fully toward her and lowered his head into stalking mode, his gaze burning through her.