Page 112 of Diary from an Inked Throne

Lynx stared up at the house for a second. The lower level was blocked by the fence and the thick line of trees that bordered the property. But we had a direct view of the balcony off Luca’s bedroom, and the moon was bright enough it was well illuminated.

My face heated at the memory of what Luca and I had done out there the night before.

Everyone in the neighborhood could see.

I still didn’t regret it. I’d liked it too much for that.

Fuck, this whole thing was so messed up. I just wanted to go back to last night, to the four of us in that bed.

But if James was inside…

My heart squeezed again, and that sense of urgency to get in there reared up so hot and painful I knew it was only a matter of time before I gave up on being tactical and just walked out into the open, demanding MacGregor give me back my family.

I couldn’t bear the thought of her standing inside that house, scared we weren’t here.

I leaned back on the tree behind me, realizing it was just as lit up by the moon as that balcony was. And that if I could see them, then they could probably see me.

It was dangerous for me to just stand here in the open. But…

I spun on my heel, walking away through the darkness to my car that we’d parked a few houses down the street. I pretended I didn’t hear Lynx and Luca hissing for me to come back, and questions of where I was going.

I returned a minute later with a spray can of paint.

The other two stared at me.

Lynx raised an eyebrow. “That your weapon of choice? Going to paint the town pink?”

I shook the can, wincing at the ball rattling around and the fierce look Luca sent my way.

I ignored him. “She needs to know we’re here.”

He blew out a long breath. “So, what are you going to do? Paint a sign that says, Nyah! Don’t stress! We got your back! And hold it up ’til she comes to the window and notices?”

Lynx was less sarcastic and more gentle with his feedback. “Might be a bit obvious. If Nyah can see it, they’ll all be able to see it. Where did you get that spray paint anyway?”

“I’m an artist. I’ve always got paint, and I’m planning a new mural on the side of the shop.” I waved off their questions and racked my brain, trying to get us back on track. “A symbol then. Something she’ll know is from us.”

Luca wasn’t impressed. “I’m still in favor of going in guns blazing.”

Lynx glared at him. “We are not doing that.” He turned to me. “Draw my lynx claws on the tree.”

“MacGregor’s men all know you’re the Lynx Killer,” Luca warned. “They were all there that night you lost your shit in Scotland.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” he said dryly.

“It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we’ve got. And that night in Scotland was months ago. They might not remember.” I uncapped the can and, for the second time that day, drew the marks of a serial killer, but this time onto the bark of an aging oak tree with paint.

I just hoped it was light enough for Nyah to notice them.

And that all of MacGregor’s men were busy patrolling the ground level instead of the upper levels from where they would actually see my latest artwork.

But I knew we had to move fast. Someone would work it out eventually, and when they did, we’d be sitting ducks if we didn’t have a plan.

“I think our only real option is to go in quietly and try to get them out the same way,” Lynx said. “We wait a few hours, give her as much time as we can to see the marks Dax painted so she knows to be ready. Then we go in through that back door that leads into the cells. We take out only the men we have to. There’s no way MacGregor could have all his guys here. He’s gotta be running on just enough manpower to hold his position. We stay quiet. No guns.”

Luca raised an eyebrow. “Should I use Dax’s spray paint to squirt them in the eye then? What the fuck am I supposed to do without a gun?”

Lynx looked at me. “Warm up your swinging arm. You’ve got the best punch out of the three of us.”