The woman continued to push Frieda back and back and back again as that monstrosity of a dog ran to its master’s side.

Then, with a growl—from the woman, not the dog—the little bitch spun and took Frieda with her. Seconds before she let Frieda go . . .

Kera sent the woman flying through the glass French doors and out onto the patio. She followed after her, ignoring the broken glass she was stepping on. She reached down and yanked the second hammer out of the woman’s hands.

She hefted both and raised them. Her thought was to smash the woman’s head between the two weapons; to turn that head into nothing but blood and pulp and pieces of skull. But before she finished the double swing, Kera stopped.

Dear God . . . what the hell was wrong with her?

She wasn’t bloodthirsty. She didn’t try to kill people. She understood damn well the difference between defending herself and just hurting people to hurt them. But she was mad. She was pissed.

Kera lowered the weapons just as lightning flashed. That’s when she saw them. Surrounding her. Some restrained the woman’s branded friends; long, thin blades pressed against important arteries. Throats, inner thighs, near the armpit.

They held the woman’s friends captive while they silently watched Kera.

Knowing she was done, Kera tossed the hammers aside.

The woman immediately rolled to one side, reaching for her hammer, but a small Asian woman stomped on her hand with a black boot.

The woman screamed and grabbed her fingers. The Asian woman walked around her, then kicked her in the stomach, the side, and finally her face.

The Asian woman leaned over, resting her hands on her bent knees. “I don’t know why you’re here, Frieda. But if we find you here again without an invite, I’ll peel your face off your skull.”

She grabbed “Frieda” by her short blond hair and dragged her to her feet.

“Now get out.”

Frieda, gripping her ribs with one arm, leaned down to grab her hammer. Kera didn’t think it was to attack this time, just to take it, but the Asian woman suddenly swung at Frieda’s face with her hand, tearing skin from her cheek and jaw.

Frieda screamed and ignored her weapon to put her free hand against her bleeding face.

“Those belong to her now,” the Asian woman said, pointing at Kera. “Get out.”

Panting and bleeding everywhere, Frieda ran off and her people followed, cutting through the trees behind the house.

Once they were gone, the Asian woman faced Kera. She looked her over and then her lip curled and she pointed. “What is that?”

Kera looked down at herself. “What?”

“That?”

Kera realized she was pointing at her dog. “That’s Brodie Hawaii.”

“Isn’t that a . . . a . . . what do they call those dogs?”she asked . . . someone.

“Pit bull,” someone answered.

“Yes! Is that a pit bull? We can’t have a pit bull here. Our insurance is not going to cover any pit bulls or those dogs from the seventies that used to kill people.”

“Dobermans.”

“Yes. Those. You can have a poodle, though. I’ve heard they’re super smart!”

Kera, exhausted now just from that brief thirty seconds of stupid conversation, shook her head. “I don’t care about your insurance. Brodie stays.”

“I understand. You don’t grasp that here I’m in charge.”

“You don’t grasp that I don’t care. And if you’re in charge, then you need to do a better job of protecting your property.”

The Asian woman took a step toward Kera, but a taller black woman quickly cut in front of her. “No, Chloe.”

“I’m going to twist her like a pretzel.”

The black woman looked back at Kera before replying, “No, you’re not. For many reasons. So let’s all just relax and think this through.”

“There’s nothing to think through,” Kera said. “Brodie stays or we both go. There’s no other option. Now, I’m going to go back to my room . . . with Brodie. So if you’ll excuse me . . . ?”

When no one said anything, Kera headed back into the house, Brodie by her side.

Erin Amsel stared down at the new girl, who’d passed out on the first six steps leading to the bedrooms. She was snoring like a drunk sailor. And so was the dog.

It was not pretty, but the kid had been through a lot. So Erin would cut her some slack.

Besides. She liked this new girl. Not a lot of people back-talked Chloe—while naked—it was entertaining.

“I am not digging the new chick,” Chloe Wong announced and they all stared at her. Nothing was more awkward than when Chloe tried to sound like something other than what she was: a pompous know-it-all who killed for a god.

Erin began to say something, but Tessa Kelly, who had been Erin’s team leader since Erin had first woken up in the Bird House four years ago, cut her off with a, “Don’t even.”

Erin closed her mouth and Tessa said, “Don’t be too hard on her, Clo. She woke up with Giant Killers in the house. No one should have to deal with that on their first day.”

“Why were the Killers in our house?” Alessandra Esporza asked, immediately looking bored as soon as the words left her mouth. Nothing really entertained Alessandra for long . . . except shopping. The woman originally came from money and she just loved to shop.

“I don’t know. That’s a good quest—where are you going, Alessandra? You asked me a question.”