Marc purred and rubbed against my ankle. Ryan dropped to his knees, cradling his ruined nose.
“Mom wasn’t grabbed, and kicked, and punched, and humiliated,” I snapped. “She wasn’t thrown around a cage in a filthy basement. She wasn’t touched. She has the luxury of forgiveness because she doesn’t fail to fight them off in her nightmares. Did you know I dream about it, Ryan?” I dropped into a squat in front of him and pulled his head back by his hair until I saw his eyes, already surrounded by rapidly swelling, darkening flesh. “Did you know it happens all over again, every night I sleep alone? Every night I’m too tired to fight off the memories?” I swallowed a sob and forced the next words out. “I needed you then. You were supposed to protect me. But I don’t need you now.”
My fist slammed into his jaw, and his head hit the tree trunk. His eyes watered, but I couldn’t tell if they were tears of regret or pain. And I didn’t care.
One of the guys tugged me backward by the hem of my shirt, and I stood, the cold forgotten. “We were family.” I kicked, and my boot slammed into his thigh. “You were my big brother.”
Ryan’s tears fell. He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him. Didn’t want to.
“Brothers are supposed to make sure things like that never happen to little sisters. It’s your job, whether you’re an enforcer or not. Ethan knew that. Why the hell didn’t you?” I kicked again, and Ryan huddled against the base of the tree. He didn’t even try to defend himself. Like he wanted to be punished. Like being hit alleviated some of the guilt.
Marc tugged me again, and I stumbled backward, half-shocked to see the blood on my hand. I hadn’t realized I still carried that much rage.
Ryan looked up. He wiped blood and tears on the sleeve of his jacket and stood slowly. “I’m so sorry, Faythe. I know it’s never gonna be enough, but I am so, so sorry.”
Yeah. Tell that to Sara and Abby. “Get out.” My eyes burned, and I wanted to rub them. Or close them.
“Faythe…”
“Get out!” I shouted. “And if you come back, I swear I’ll wear your canines as earrings.”
“Please…” He tried one last time, swiping at the steady trickle of blood from his nose.
“Go!”
Finally Ryan ran. He looked back twice. And I only realized I was crying when I fell to my knees, and Jace licked the hot tears from my face with his warm, rough tongue. They curled around me, both of them sharing their warmth and their comfort, and I dug my fingers into their fur. And for several minutes, I could only cry.
I sat on the couch in the guesthouse, my fingers still numb from the cold, my face still red from crying.
Marc zipped his pants, and the metallic whisper was loud in the near silence, even from the kitchenette across the room. While Jace finished his Shift, Marc brought me a cold bottle of water; no doubt all the glasses were dirty. Half a minute later, Jace stood, nude from his Shift and in no rush to reach for his clothes.
Marc scowled and tossed him the jeans I’d picked up on our way out of the woods.
Jace watched me in concern as he pulled them on, and the look Marc shot him could have frozen lava. But Jace was unfazed. “I’ll get her fixed up. You go get her a clean shirt.”
“I am not leaving you alone with her. Here.” Where Jace and I had…connected. On the living room floor.
Jace rolled brilliant blue eyes. “Like I’m gonna hit on her while she’s upset.”
“If memory serves, that’s when she’s most…receptive,” Marc spat.
My temper flared and my hands curled into fists, but I kept my mouth shut. He’d survived being cuckolded—I could survive his anger.
Jace stomped into the kitchen and slammed his hands flat on the countertop, staring across the island at Marc. “You can take this out on me if you want, but leave her the hell alone.”
“You talk to me like that again, and I’ll take this out on your face,” Marc growled through clenched teeth.
“Go for it.” Jace stood straight and spread his arms, inviting the first blow. He wanted to fight, but he wouldn’t start it because he knew that would piss me off.
Marc was trying to piss me off. To hurt me like I’d hurt him.
And his tongue turned out to be just as sharp as mine.
“No.” I should have been encouraged by the fact that I didn’t have to raise my voice to stop them, but in that moment, I was kind of seeing the cup as half-empty. “Unless you want to tell my dad that I beat the snot out of you both, you better lay the hell off.” I looked up from the bottle, cold and wet in my hand. “I can’t go in there wearing Ryan’s blood, and if I borrow a shirt from either one of you, someone’s going to ask what happened to my own.”