Behind me, Jace chuckled, but Kent glowered, his face scarlet beneath the burn of humiliation. And if he hadn’t hated me before, he might now. “Does that mean you’re fighting for yourself?”
“Yeah. That’s kind of this thing I do. You probably shouldn’t try it, though. Cowards tend to break beneath the burden.” I was trying to piss him off, practically daring him to fight me himself.But Dean wouldn’t stand for it. “We’ll see who’s broken in a few minutes,” he called, drawing my attention from the obviously irritated Kenton Pierce. “Pick your form—fur or flesh?”
Shit. Dean was at least double my weight and had ten inches on me in height. I’d only been able to take him in human form the first time because I caught him by surprise, and the second time because I turned his own knife against him—we had yet to actually exchange blows.
But if I couldn’t take him on two legs, there was no way in hell I could take him on four.
“Flesh,” I replied at last, and on my right, Marc exhaled slowly. “Do I get to change, or do I have to kick your skull in wearing three-inch heels?” Not that I’d actually fight in heels; I’d go barefoot if I had to.
“Go change. But don’t dawdle,” Kent said, snatching the spotlight back from his “champion.” “We don’t have time for you to worry about what you’ll be wearing when you die.”
So furious I had to grit my teeth to keep them from Shifting, I turned an abrupt about-face and marched back into the house, grabbing Parker’s arm on the way to haul him in with me. My mother, Marc, and Jace came on their own. Owen, Vic, and Brian stood watch on the porch.
“Faythe, you don’t have to do this,” my mother said, as soon as the front door closed behind us.
“Yes, I do, and we don’t have time to argue about it. Call Michael and give him an update. Tell them not to stop driving until they hit the free zone.”
“But…”
“Please, Mom.” I unbuttoned my blouse as I walked, and they all trailed me to my bedroom. “If you really think I can handle this job, this is the time to prove it.”
She stopped just inside my doorway, frowning. But she nodded and was already dialing on her way back into the hall.
“Faythe…” Marc began, but I cut him off with a one-minute finger.
“Parker…what the fuck?” I gave up on the buttons and ripped my shirt open, barely noticing when the shiny black disks rolled silently across my carpet.
Parker was misery given form. “I’m so sorry, Faythe. He called yesterday, all apologetic, talking about how Dad had really lost it. It just slipped out.”
“Yeah, and then it slipped from him to your dad, and from your dad to Malone. And now I have to fight some giant psychopath who’s only regret in this whole thing is that I’m going to die with my pants on.”
“You don’t have to…” Jace started, but I silenced him with one furious glance, then turned back to Parker.
“You were drinking, weren’t you? You were drunk when he called?”
Parker didn’t reply, but we could all see the answer in his face. “I’m so sorry.”
“You sure as hell are.” I unzipped my skirt and let it pool around my ankles, then stepped out of the material, wearing only my underwear and heels. “You’re either with us or against us, Parker, and so far, it’s not looking much like the former.”
“No. I’m with you. I can make this up to you.” Parker closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “Please give me a chance.”
I hesitated. We needed him, now more than ever. And he needed us. “You know I love you, Parker. But I love the rest of the Pride, too, and I can’t let you break us. You mess up again, and you’re out.”
“Okay.” He sniffled again. “I’m sorry.”
I kicked my heels into the corner of the room. “Get yourself together and get back out there.”
Parker left and Marc closed the bedroom door, as I dug through my drawer for a shirt. Something warm, but that would let me move freely. “Faythe, please don’t do this,” he said, and I could tell from the quiet, carefully controlled quality of his voice that he was struggling to keep from ordering me not to do it.
“We’ve been over this…” I pulled a snug black turtleneck from the second drawer and held it up. No holes, no stains, no defects. And blood would barely show against black.
“Faythe, look at me.” Marc grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. “You’re scaring me. You are scaring the living shit out of me, and it kind of looks like you don’t care.”
I exhaled slowly and made myself meet his gaze. “I care. I really do care, and I’m sorry. But I have bigger things to worry about right now than your fear. Or even my own. If I lose, we all lose this territory. Also, I might be dead.” I pulled out of his grasp and tugged the shirt over my head, then pulled my hair free from the thick, loose neck.
“Jace, help me out here,” Marc said, and I froze in the act of turning down the collar, surprised into silence to hear him actually ask Jace for help. With me. “I can’t deal with her when she won’t listen.”
“I’m listening.” I selected a pair of dark jeans from the bottom drawer. They were well-worn, but still intact, so they wouldn’t inhibit movement.
“But you’re not hearing him,” Jace insisted, as I stepped into the jeans. When I stood straight to button them, Jace wrapped a hand around each of my arms. “Faythe. We’re asking you not to do this. Dean will kill you.”
“Only if I don’t kill him. And we all know I have a better shot at this now, in a fair fight, than on an open battlefield. When there are no rules, he’ll bring a knife or a gun to the party. This is the only way I can take him. When you guys are there to make sure it’s a fair fight.”
Jace leaned his face down until his forehead met mine, and I could hear his heart beating too hard, his pulse rushing faster than it should. I could smell stress mixed with his personal scent, and that fueled my own anxiety. “But, Faythe, it doesn’t have to be you taking him on. Let one of us fight him.”
“No. It has to be me. And Marc knows why.” Jace looked up, and Marc frowned, but held my gaze. “What did you say to me last week, Marc? What will happen if…someone challenges you, and you don’t beat him?” That someone was Jace, and while he no doubt picked up on that fact, I wasn’t going to say it out loud.
Marc sighed, but he wasn’t going to lie. “If they think I can’t defend my position, they’ll keep challenging me. And Malone will have reason to claim I’m not Alpha material, thus not worthy to stand at your side. To help lead the Pride.”“And that’s why I have to do this. If I don’t prove I can hang with the boys—even if that means taking down the biggest bully on the playground—I’m not going to be able to hold on to this Pride, now, or in the future. And you both know it.” I hesitated, then sank onto the side of my bed and looked up at them both. “But beyond all that, he killed my dad. I have to do this.”
Finally Marc nodded, though Jace looked less than convinced. “But I’m not going to let him kill you. I’ll stop the fight if it comes down to that, and—” I stood and tried to interrupt, but he spoke over me “—and if you try to tell me not to, I swear I’ll walk away right now. I can’t watch him kill you.”
“Me, too,” Jace insisted, and I looked up to find his face lined in fear and confliction. And determination. He meant it. They both did.
“Fine. It’s not like I want to die. Just make sure I’m really going to lose before you throw in my towel, okay?”
Marc nodded, and I stepped closer to him. My heart thumped so loud it echoed in my ears. I slid one hand behind his neck and Marc kissed me like he’d never have another chance. And I knew that deep down, he actually believed that. I could die in the next few minutes, and some part of him was kissing me goodbye.
When I finally pulled away from him, his jaw tensed and he closed his eyes. He glanced at Jace, then back at me, and the pain shining in his eyes had so many sources it was like looking into a kaleidoscope of anguish. “I…I’ll be out there.” He walked stiffly across the room and out the door, then closed it softly, and my heart ached, even in the midst of my own maelstrom of conflicting fear, rage, and dread.
But before I could decide whether or not to call him back, Jace was there, and his angst was just as real. Just as immediate. “Please don’t do this, Faythe. I’m begging you. We all know you can fight, so your badass status is in no jeopardy. But you are not evenly matched against Colin Dean.”
“Jace…”
“I know, you’re going to do it, anyway. If Marc can’t talk you out of it, what chance do I have?”
I looked up into his eyes, letting him see what all was at stake for me. “What would you do in my position? If he’d killed your father, and cut you up, and told you how he wants to make you scream before you die, and this was your one chance for a fair fight… What would you do? Honestly?”
Jace sighed, but looked far from mollified. “I’d want to rip out his insides while he watched.” He wrapped both arms around me, and I wondered briefly if his warmth was the last pleasant thing I’d ever feel. “You are the single most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” he whispered, his lips moving against mine with the last words. Jace’s kiss wasn’t saying goodbye—it was begging me to stay.