Silver grinned and flexed his now-free claws. He shook off the last of the vines and they fell to the floor.

“But,” she continued, watching him size her up, “don’t hurt my friends.”

He laughed. This time it was at her.

“If you can do that, I’ll let you hurt… kill me. I’ll let you kill me.”

It would have to happen anyways, right? Silver’s laughter stopped, and his tail swished back and forth at the proposition. Now Phoebe was certain that his focus was entirely on her. He reached towards her but she dodged, moving back.

She had been told to hide but if Connell really was involved, then where? How? And now, standing before Silver, flimsy weapon in hand, surrounded by the muffled sounds of fighting, something inside her was beginning to hum.

“Do you agree?”

He chattered at her like a housecat watching a bird through a window. His grin was sick and wide. Carefully, she moved towards the open garage door.

“Come on.” The afternoon sun illuminated her own nervous smile. Then she ran.