“Gypsy, you’re wrong—”
“Save it,” Rule snapped. “She’s not alone, Harte, and the stink of your lies makes me want to rip your throat out myself.”
“Gypsy, please . . .” Jason cried, only to whimper as that claw-tipped hand landed on his shoulder again.
“I have a better idea,” Gideon rasped, amused despite the anger she could feel pulsing from him. “You want the truth, but this man will never give you such a thing without a little help. And with men like this, they never give such things willingly.”
“No,” Jason whispered, shuddering, whimpering as the claws bit into his shoulder.
Blood seeped into the shirt from the points where the sharpened nails bit into his flesh.
Gypsy inhaled, fury beating at the edges of her brain despite the shield she felt Rule throwing between her senses and the ragged, raging emotions clawing at it.
“Stop,” she whispered to him. “Don’t make me hide from it.”
“Gypsy, you don’t have to hurt like this,” he growled, the sound powerful, commanding.
“Me and my emotions are old friends, Rule,” she told him then. “I’ve waited nine years for this moment. I don’t want to lose a single emotion, a single second of it.”
Lawe murmured something to him, and though the shield was suddenly gone, she felt Rule with her more strongly than ever.
She could handle that, though. It kept her moored, kept the agonizing rage from poisoning every particle of her being as a low, enraged cry parted her lips.
“Dammit, Gypsy, I loved Mark like a brother . . .”
Grody leaned to Mark, but his gaze was on her as he whispered the words. She watched his lips, saw the words form and her gaze jerked to her brother’s eyes.
Resigned sorrow and rage had filled her brother’s eyes.
“When Grody whispered the name of the friend who’d betrayed him, Mark had one last minute to tell me something in a way that if Grody were to have mercy, he’d never know what Mark told me. ‘Be brave. Don’t cry, Peanut,’” she spat back at him. “You miserable bastard. Only you ever told me that. Only you.”
His jaw clenched, fury gleaming in his gaze as his lip curled in disgust. “He treated you like you were his fucking child . . .”
“He treated you like a fucking brother,” she charged furiously. “You had him killed, Jason. You tried to steal his family, you stole his fiancée, were you really that jealous of him?”
“You’re crazy,” he yelled back at her. “I tried to help your family . . .”
“He’s lying,” Gideon stated with an air of boredom. “I have a wonderful little drug that will ensure he tells you the truth, though.”
“You fucker!” Jason screamed, spittle flying from his lips as the Breed chuckled behind him.
“Tell her the truth or I give you the drug. It will make you certifiably insane, but we’ll get the truth. And it is rather painful. Agonizing, from what I remember myself. You choose.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’d rather not. You stink of piss.”
Jason dropped his head.
“I can be merciful, Mr. Harte,” Gideon said softly. “Especially when I really have no desire to compound one tender young woman’s nightmares. But I’m also rather selfish. I want the truth, as does she. However bad it hurts her, or you, I’ll get it.”