“Maybe he never thought he needed to before.”
Marc recoiled like I’d punched him, and shame flooded me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment, and Marc began pulling supplies from the bags. Two bottles of hydrogen peroxide, a suture kit, sterile gauze, medical tape, a new pair of jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and underwear. And finally he sank onto the bed, folding the jeans while I sat with my useless hands in my lap.
“He’s not right, Faythe. He hasn’t been since Ethan died. He’s acting possessive of the Pride tabby.…” I opened my mouth to object—he knew how badly I hated being referred to as such—but he spoke over me, intent on making his point. “He’s resisting orders, challenging his superiors, bristling under authority.…”
Only your orders, you as his superior, and your authority. Jace had exhibited none of those reactions to my father. But I couldn’t say that until I was ready to say the rest of it.
“He’s acting like…” Marc looked up then and laid one hand on my leg to make sure he had my full attention. “Faythe, he’s acting like a challenger.” He hesitated, and I knew what was coming. I shook my head vehemently, but he said it, anyway. “He can’t stay. Once this is all over, Jace has to go.”
“No. No, Marc. He has nowhere to go.” Just like you.
“Faythe, it won’t work anymore. It’ll be like this—” he spread both arms to take in the whole horrible confrontation “—every day. You know it. And eventually he’ll challenge.”
I shook my head again, insistent. “Jace would never challenge my dad.”
Marc shrugged. “Of course not. There’s no reason to. When your dad feels like he’s no longer what we need, he’ll step down, because unlike Malone, he truly has the best interests of his Pride at heart.
“But Jace will challenge me, for top rank among the enforcers. In his heart, he sees himself as a contender, and he can’t help it. He can’t make himself submit to my authority anymore, and we can’t work like that for long. He’ll call me out. And I’ll have to kill him.”
My pulse spiked so hard the room went gray around me for a long moment. I couldn’t breathe.
“That’s ludicrous.” I stood and walked away from him, disguising my distress as pacing, my arms swinging stiffly at my sides in spite of the pain. “This isn’t the Amazon. We’re a little more civilized here, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Marc’s reflection shrugged in the grimy mirror over the cheap dresser. “All that means is that it won’t be tomorrow. He’ll resist as long as he can, but, Faythe, he’s a serious contender now, and someday he’ll challenge.” He hesitated and glanced at the floor in confusion. Or maybe self-recrimination. “I can’t believe I never saw this coming. Greg didn’t, either—he would have told me. We never took him seriously.”
“Well, it’s serious now.” My back to Marc, I started to lean with my hands flat against the top of the dresser, but the first bit of pressure stopped me with a shocking burst of fresh pain in both arms. “But even if you’re right, you don’t have to kill him.”
“Faythe.” Marc stood, and when I met his gaze in the mirror I saw that his eyes were swimming with sympathy. The irony of him feeling sorry for me and Jace almost made me cry. “You saw him in there.” He gestured vaguely toward the bathroom. “He won’t back down, and I can’t. I can’t marry you and share leadership of the Pride with you after another enforcer challenges me and wins. That would give every Alpha with a chip on his shoulder grounds to claim I’m not Alpha material.”
Shit. I closed my eyes and let my head hang in alarm so profound it was almost horror. He was right. If he and Jace fought—ever, for any reason—only one of them would walk away. And I honestly had no idea which one would win.I turned, desperately wishing for the use of my hands. “Can we do this now?” I held up my left arm.
Marc blinked, surprised by my sudden subject change. “He’ll be back in a minute, and we’re gonna have to tell him something.”
“Not yet, Marc.” I unlatched the door, then crossed in front of him and into the bathroom. “We have to talk to my dad first, and we don’t have time to explain all this until Kaci’s safe. Now, are you going to help me, or do I have to pour hydrogen peroxide on my gored arm with my broken wrist?”
Marc scowled and grabbed an armload of first-aid supplies, then followed me into the bathroom. “Fine. But we’re not done talking about this.”
“Talk while you sew.” I sat on the closed toilet seat and leaned forward with my left arm over the sink, my broken right arm on my lap.
He transferred his supplies into one arm and laid a clean towel over the back of the toilet tank, then arranged everything on top of that. “Why the hell did you cut your cast off, anyway?”
“Because I can’t Shift to heal with a cast on and you two can’t fight properly while you’re looking out for me. I need to be able to hold my own, and this way I can heal both arms at once.” The reproach on his face expressed his disapproval more clearly than words ever could have. “Don’t start. My dad already knows and he’s cool with it.” Mostly because there was no other option.
Marc frowned. “Do you have any idea how bad this is going to hurt?”
I rolled my eyes and stared up at him. “What am I, now, delicate? I can take it. Just do it.” Marc shrugged and unsealed a squirt bottle I didn’t recognize. “What’s that?”
“Sterile solution, to flush the wound. Which, in your case, is half your arm.” He flipped open the lid and leaned over for a better view as he squirted the first stream right into my open wound.
I hissed and gritted my teeth. “Talk to me. Please.”
Marc scowled without looking up. “Honestly, you’re not going to want to hear what I have to say right now, Faythe.”
Ditto. I exhaled in frustration. “You know he doesn’t know about any of this, right?” I swallowed a groan and looked away from my arm. “I swear Jace doesn’t know. He doesn’t consciously want to challenge you.” For rank, anyway. Or for me, either, though I was seriously starting to doubt his claim that he was willing to share. “He doesn’t understand what he’s going through. He hasn’t thought it out.”
Neither had I.
Marc continued squirting while I tried not to squirm. “Well, that explains why none of us saw this coming. But it won’t take him long to understand. I just wish I knew what flipped his switch. Ethan’s death was a huge blow, but still…”
I shrugged, my heart thumping miserably. “They’ve been best friends since they were five. They did everything together. Until he died, Jace was happy to do whatever Ethan wanted. Kicking bad-guy ass, chasing skirts, and partying. But now all that’s gone. Now this Pride is his whole life, and I think he wants to give it everything he has. Even if he doesn’t know that’s what he’s doing. And when you were missing he really stepped up and probably surprised himself. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t want to go back from there.”
Marc made a noncommittal sound. “Do you think your dad’s noticed the change in him?”
“Some of it, yeah. He sent him here, right? If Jace weren’t the best for the job, my dad would have sent someone else, no matter how close he and Kaci are.”
“I know.” But he didn’t look up from my arm until he’d worked his way to the end of the wound and capped the saline. “Okay, we’re done with that part. Next comes the peroxide.”
“Joy.”
“This part’s not optional. Unless you want to die of infection.”
“I know. Just get it over with.”
He unsealed a round brown bottle and unscrewed the lid, then wrapped one hand firmly around my left arm, just above the elbow, to hold it still.
I closed my eyes. He poured. Fire consumed my arm.
“Motherfucker!” I shouted. Then I ground my teeth so hard it hurt to unclench my jaw. I stared at the wallpaper, trying to count the flowers above the toilet. But I only made it to four before the flames made thought all but impossible. “Shouldn’t I be unconscious for this?”
Marc laughed and poured more liquid fire into my open wound, and distantly I heard the front door open. “Jace!” I called, when it clicked closed. “Tequila! And a sledgehammer, if you brought one.”
A paper bag crinkled and Jace laughed. Thank goodness he was amused by my pain—and evidently in a better mood. Jace stepped into the doorway, holding up a bottle of Cuervo. His gaze flicked to Marc, who didn’t look up, and anger flitted across his expression. Then he found me again and raised one brow in question.
Did you tell him?
I gave my head a short, sharp shake, then tossed my hair over one shoulder to disguise the motion. Do you think you’d be standing there whole if I had? It was truly not the time for our confession. Kaci couldn’t afford for us to be less than focused on the job at hand.
Jace frowned. “One minute.” He set the bottle down and ducked into the bedroom, then came back with a cellophane-wrapped plastic cup from the tray over the minifridge. He opened it and poured it half full, then started to hand me the cup—until we both realized I couldn’t hold it. “Sorry. Here.”