My dad’s arm slid around me again, before I even realized he’d been watching me. “What are you thinking?”
My sigh that time was half sob, in spite of my best effort to keep my emotions at bay. “If I could, I’d take the guys out of this whole thing—no one else should have to die because of Malone’s megalomania. But they’re just as willing to fight for this as I am, and I have no right to tell them they can’t. Or shouldn’t. Even if it means we lose someone else.”
My father’s sigh was heavy and long, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick, like he was holding back more than he was actually saying. “Spoken like a true leader.”
Eleven
“No…” I started to argue that I wasn’t a leader, but stopped when the bedroom door swung open. Alex stood in the doorway, holding a bowl of stew and a thermos.
“I’ll let you eat,” my dad said, already moving toward the hall. As the door closed, he shot me a sympathetic, encouraging smile, and I swallowed my panic long enough to nod in return. Compared to Marc and Jace’s lodgings, I was practically being pampered, and I could and would carry out my assignment, even if my skin crawled just from the knowledge that I wasn’t free to leave whenever I wanted.
“Here.” Alex set the bowl and thermos on the nightstand, but I waited until he retreated to his chair before I crossed the room toward my dinner.
I sank onto the bed and lifted the bowl, relieved to realize I could feel the warmth in my hands. Feeling had returned to my fingers. And the stew smelled pretty damn good.
Alex watched as I scooped up a spoonful of beef and carrots—hours before starting a war was not a good time to begin a hunger strike—and I briefly considered trying to charm him into talking about the guns. He was barely out of high school—too young to have much real experience with women, and just arrogant enough to believe I might actually have a change of heart, once I’d spent a little time with the sex magnet he surely thought he was.
But then I realized that the thought of touching him made me sick to my stomach, and I wasn’t that good an actress.
Okay, back to the old tried-and-true: piss him off until he says what I need to hear.
When he noticed me looking, Alex put on his game face—an almost believable expression of regret. He was still trying to win me over. Idiot.
“You know, I get why you hate me, me being your jailer, and all.”
I shook my head. “You’re just doing your job. I hate you because of Ethan.”
He frowned while I chewed. “I didn’t kill your brother.”
I swallowed my first bite, another spoonful halfway to my mouth. “You were in charge of the group that came for Kaci—which just proves your dad’s an idiot. A leader is responsible for his men’s actions, and you let one of them kill Ethan. That makes it your fault.” As well as his father’s.
Alex’s pale brown eyebrows drew together. “How was I supposed to know Gibson was gonna pounce?”
I dropped my spoon back into the bowl, pissed now, even beyond the scope of my intended manipulation. “It’s your duty to know how the men under you are going to react in any given situation. If you don’t know them, how are you supposed to lead them? You should never have taken…Gibson?” I asked, and he nodded, anger and shame clearly at war on his face. “You should never have taken Gibson on that assignment. Ethan was no threat to him—didn’t even know he was there—and Gibson killed him, anyway. You were going after a thirteen-year-old girl! What if he’d attacked Kaci instead?”Alex bristled, and I was almost surprised to see him show a little backbone. “Look, I didn’t ask for that assignment, and I didn’t pick the men. So you can’t hate me for something I didn’t even do.”
“Grow up, Alex.” I set down the bowl and grabbed the thermos. “A real leader wouldn’t make excuses. He’d just make sure something like that never happens again.” I gulped from the thermos, but cold water couldn’t put out the flames of rage burning deep within me. “But you’re not a leader, and the men under you know it. And so does your dad. He’s only trying to put you in my bed because he knows he can manipulate you, and that’ll give him control of two territories.”
“He doesn’t manipulate me. He’s my dad.” Alex spoke through clenched teeth, and his growing anger fed my own.
I scooped another bite from the bowl, watching him over my spoon. “He was Brett’s dad, too, right? Yet he manipulated you into killing your own brother.” His eyes widened and he glanced at the closed door, clearly thinking of all the ears listening in from the other room. “I’m not seeing a strong father-son relationship here, Alex. You two make Anakin and Luke look like Andy and Opie.”
He dropped his head again, staring at the carpet as he spoke. “Brett fell out of a tree.”
“Right. And you’re the only one who saw it happen, right? Everyone knows what you did, and they know your dad made you do it because Brett had decided to come play for the good guys.”
“You think you’re one of the good guys?” Alex stood, gesturing angrily now. “You handed Lance over to the thunderbirds. You chose another species over one of your own kind!”
“I did what I had to do to save Kaci. And we both know Lance was guilty. But I let you and Dean live, even after you tried to kill Jace and make a jack-o’-lantern out of my face. Would a bad guy do that?”
“Only a moron would do that,” Alex retorted, and before I could argue—which I was itching to do with my fists—he rushed on. “You’re a hypocrite, Faythe. You talk about honor and mercy, yet you’re willing to let your whole species die out just because you’re a frigid bitch. That’s not honor—it’s extinction. It’s slow-motion genocide.”
My hand went slack around my spoon. I couldn’t get past his accusations. Was that what everyone thought of me? That I wanted to flush my entire species down the evolutionary toilet? No wonder so many of them hated me. But they were wrong. About everything.
I dropped my bowl on the nightstand, and broth splashed onto the wood. “You are so full of shit, you reek from a mile away. And so does your dad, if that’s the kind of bull he’s been feeding you. You can’t blame an entire species’ propagation problems on one woman wanting to have a life of her own before she’s ready to create several more. And frankly, the longer I listen to your bullshit, the less I want to have children, for fear they’ll turn out like you! Maybe our species wasn’t meant to survive. Did you ever think of that? Maybe there’s a reason we have so few women, and maybe that reason is because assholes like you and your father, and his pathetic, ass-kiss followers, don’t deserve to be here, much less to warp an entire new generation of toy soldiers and broken-spirited baby machines.”
I knew I’d said too much—knew everyone in the front room could hear me, and that I might have just made all new enemies. But I couldn’t stop. The truth burned white-hot inside me, demanding to be spoken.
“You’re not afraid the other tabbies will start thinking like me. You’re afraid they’ll start thinking, period! You wouldn’t know what do to with a woman who has ideas of her own, and your vacant, slack-jawed stare right now proves it.” I paused for a deep breath and stood. “And by the way, refusing to sleep with you doesn’t mean a girl’s frigid. It means she has standards.”
I sank onto the bed again, floating with satisfaction and more nourished by the truth I’d spoken than by the soup he’d brought. I’d probably pay for everything I’d said later, but I didn’t regret a word of it. Malone and his allies needed a dose of honesty, and they needed to know who they were really dealing with. And now they knew.
Alex fumed. His face flushed purple with anger and humiliation, and he kept glancing at the closed door, hyperaware that the living room had gone completely silent when I started my tirade. “You know, you’re only making things harder for yourself, running your mouth off like that. Soon you’re gonna be missing your claws and in serious need of a friend, and I’ll look pretty damn good next to the alternative.”
“The alternative?” I asked, and a flash of genuine irritation and jealousy passed over his face. Dread settled through me as his meaning sank in. “You mean Dean?”
“Yeah.” Alex sank onto the spare twin bed and met my gaze from three feet away, lowering his voice so he wouldn’t be heard from the living room. “Marc and Jace aren’t going to last long, now that things have changed. We both know that. And if I can’t make you see reason by the time they’re both gone, my dad’s going to give Dean a shot with you. Would you really rather deal with him than with me?” His gaze strayed to the scar on my left cheek. “After what he did to your face? At least I’d never hurt you.”
It took every bit of self-control I had left to keep from shouting, and I made no effort to lower my voice. “And I’m supposed to believe that because I’ve magically forgotten how I got my pretty new scar? You told him to cut me, Alex. This was your bright idea, and that’s not the kind of thing a girl can just forgive and forget.”