Frag, I should have known it would hit me like this, seeing Cat’s recorded message. But I didn’t. When her face resolves on the screen—big eyes, copper hair, sensuous lips—I feel like someone’s slipped an ice-cold stiletto between my ribs under my heart. My eyes burn and my vision blurs, and I have to fight to get air into my lungs. For a few moments, I don’t think I can stand it. I want nothing more than to jump up and run. But then the rage reasserts itself, burning and churning in my belly. Somebody’s going to pay, oh yes, they’re going to pay—and then I know I can handle it. My emotions fade away, and I feel cold and hard and barely human as Cat’s outgoing message comes to an end. With fingers that don’t quite feel like mine. I key in the access code for the Special Favors file. My hands shake so much I almost can’t enter the Mayflower password, but somehow I manage it.