SHE jammed her fist into her mouth and wept as quietly as she could. She didn’t want to see anyone, not Conner—especially not Conner. She felt bruised and battered. Ottila had completely broken her. She had no idea what to feel, only fear, intense fear. He’d stripped her down until she couldn’t recognize herself. She had to get her clothes off and treat the puncture wounds. He’d wanted to mark her, not maim her, so they couldn’t be as bad as they felt. But she couldn’t move. She stayed still, huddled against the wall, weeping quietly.

“ISABEAU! We’re coming in,” Conner’s voice made her jump, but she didn’t move, making herself as small as possible there against the wall.

CONNER waited uneasily when Isabeau didn’t answer him. He glanced at Rio, who was still pulling on his jeans. The cabin was dark, just as he’d told her to leave it. All the shutters were closed. There seemed no good reason for his uneasiness, although after tracking the large leopard back to the doctor’s house and into Jeremiah’s room, he could believe the leopard capable of anything. The boy had been helpless, lying hooked to an IV, fighting for every breath, and Ottila had raked deep claw marks in his belly. He could have disemboweled him. The general consensus had been that he’d been interrupted by Mary or the doctor as they’d looked in on him.

Many guests still remained in the house and Elijah patrolled outside, yet the leopard had managed to locate Jeremiah’s room and enter with so much stealth, no one had even known he was in the house. Conner knew the leopard could have killed all of them—Mary, Doc, his friends and certainly Jeremiah. He knew the others were wrong, Ottila hadn’t been interrupted, he hadn’t wanted to kill Jeremiah.

Conner put his hand on the door and inhaled. Was there a faint scent of a leopard? “I’m coming in, Isabeau, don’t shoot me.”

He unlocked the door and the smell hit him hard, waves of it. Leopard and blood. The mixture was potent. He whipped his head around, examining every inch of the cabin until his gaze found her huddled and bloody in the darkness.

“Is he here?” he asked. She looked in shock, her face starkly white. It took every ounce of control not to leap to her side and gather her up.

For a moment she was silent. Traumatized. He didn’t want to think about what had happened here. Not with her clothes bloody and that look of terror on her face.

“Isabeau,” he hissed, putting a flick of command in his voice.

“I don’t know. He went up there,” she pointed to the beams overhead. Her tone was so low he barely caught the words, even with his acute hearing.