Alpha (33 page)

“How long will it take you to get to the ranch?” Marc asked, as one of the other birds carried the phone through an open doorway.

“We will need twenty-four hours' notice, to account for rests in flight and recuperation before the fight,” the old woman said, and I wondered if she'd be fighting alongside her younger relatives.

I nodded. A day's notice. We could do that.

When everything was settled, I took one last longing glance at my phone, now plugged into an outlet in a badly outdated kitchen, then let Cade—or maybe Coyt—ferry me to the road. The return trip was no less pleasant than the flight up to the nest, but when we'd all three landed on the ground safe and sound, I decided to count our blessings. No one got maimed or killed, and we'd secured air support for the upcoming fight. Which, with any luck, would give us the advantage we needed, even if Malone's men outnumbered us. And they surely would.

We froze all the way back to the car, but once we had the heater going full blast, I called my uncle to make a report.

“Hello?” he said, by way of a greeting, his voice leery with suspicion. And that's when I realized that his caller ID had probably showed my father's name.

“It's me. Sorry. I had to leave my phone with the thunderbirds, so I'm using my dad's. I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

My uncle chuckled, obviously relieved, and his laugh sounded eerily like my mother's. “I'll take them in order of importance.”

But even that was tough to determine, so he got
chronological order. “The bad news is that the thunderbirds won't do recon for us, as I'd hoped.”

“That's too bad. It was a good thought, though. What's the good news? They've committed to the fight?”

“Enthusiastically,” I said, as Jace turned off the birds' gravel road and onto the highway. “They're scary-eager.”

“Wow. Okay.” His surprise was obvious, as was his relief. “So, how many are coming?”

I grinned at both of the guys in the rearview mirror. “Twenty. They're drawing quills to see who gets the honor. And every last one of them is eager to shed tyrannical blood for us.”

I was ready to shed more than a little of it myself.

“I
could try Alex,” Jace said, reclining on the motel bed with his arms crossed behind his head. “But honestly, I think you'd have better luck with that than I would.”

“Not after I took his gun and left him tied up under the bed.” The memory made me smile as I leaned back in the chair and propped my feet on the rickety breakfast table. “I think the only other possible source we have on the inside is Kenton. He seemed less than thrilled to be playing his part, and I think he's feeling guilty. Parker might be able to work that to our favor.”

“I think—” Marc paused, rolling his eyes while an airplane engine roared overhead, momentarily drowning out all other sound.

Our return flight didn't leave until nearly six in the morning, which left us with a good eight hours to kill. Not enough time to drive instead, but too much to waste in an airport bar when we could be resting and mentally preparing for the coming battle.

When the plane had passed, Marc shoved my feet off the table and dropped into the chair next to me. “I think we're missing the most obvious possibility. Maybe we
shouldn't be looking for a source on the inside, but a source on the outside.”

“Meaning…?” I was tired from all the travel and stiff from my recent beating, even after the Shifting marathon, and would have loved to lie down—but the room had two beds. Jace had claimed one, and Marc's duffel lay on the end of the other. I couldn't take a nap without making an all caps DECLARATION, and they both knew it. At this rate, I'd wind up sleeping in the bathtub.

“Meaning we don't have to talk to someone on the ranch to find out whether or not Malone's there. Wouldn't it be easier for Jace to just call his mother?”

I raised an eyebrow at Marc. “That's not a bad idea.” I twisted toward Jace in the hard chair, wishing for a pillow. “You think she'll fall for that again?”

“I don't know. She's in denial, but she's not brain-dead. She knows I used her last time, and she knows the basics about what happened to Lance Pierce. She may not know the whole story behind Dean's pretty new face, but she probably knows I was involved.”

“None of that matters,” Marc insisted. “She's your mother, and she's already lost one son. She's not going to give up the chance to reconnect with her firstborn, even knowing he's using her. Look at Ryan and your mom.” Marc glanced at me briefly, then turned back to Jace. “Karen's one of the smartest, most insightful women I've ever met, but she has a total blind spot where Ryan's concerned, even knowing what he did. Your mom has to know deep down that whatever Malone told her about you isn't true. She'll talk to you.”

Jace sat up on the bed, frowning, and I could practi
cally taste his reluctance. “Even if she does, she's not going to give up sensitive information.”

I leaned forward, catching his gaze and holding it. “We don't need to know what Malone sleeps in. We just need to know whether or not he's on the ranch. And you don't have to actually ask her. Just steer the conversation around to him. Ask if he's mad that you called. If he can hear what you're saying. That way if he's not there, she'll tell you.”

Jace nodded slowly. “Okay. That sounds like almost as much fun as being stoned to death, but I'm in.” He shrugged, and his gaze met mine boldly. “You know I'll do whatever you need done.”

Marc's growl was almost low enough to go unnoticed. But I noticed. “Just make sure your mom's not running the same scam on you,” he snapped. “The last thing we need is for you to tip our hand, so she can call Malone with the details.”

Jace bristled and sat up straight. “Back off. I'm not an idiot.”

Marc's brows furrowed into a hard, dark line. “No, you're just an opportunistic bastard who slept with a friend's girlfriend before her brother's body was even cold!”

Anger flared deep in my chest, but before I could yell at Marc for bringing Ethan into this, Jace launched himself from the bed. If he'd had fur, it would have been standing on end. “You are
way
over the line, and you better step back while you still can.”

Marc started to stand, but I beat him to it, and when I begged him silently to stay seated, he leaned back in his chair, but still gripped the armrests. I nodded in grate
ful acknowledgment of his cooperation, then turned to Jace. “Sit. Please.”

Jace glared at us for a second, then sank fluidly onto the edge of the bed.

I angled my own chair to face them both, then sat, fighting the urge to bury my head in my hands. Or in the sand. “Guys, I know what I've put you through, and I can't even tell you how sorry I am. I've made a lot of mistakes, and for the past few days, I've been too busy figuring out how to take care of the Pride to concentrate on more personal matters. And I know that's not fair to either of you. But I owe it to the Pride—to all of you—to give the fight my full attention right now. After that, though, I swear…”

“You just lost your dad and your brother.” Jace scooted closer across the bed, his brows furrowed in sympathy. “And two days ago you were nearly beaten to death, then got kicked out of your home. That's enough to deal with. Take your time.”

“Thank you.” I gave Jace a tense smile, then turned to Marc.

He sighed heavily and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, heartache dulling the brilliance of his eyes. “There's nothing I can say right now that isn't going to make this worse. I can't pretend I'm okay with watching you two together, or waiting for you to make up your mind.”

Marc glanced at the floor, then met my gaze again, letting me see the brutal misery my indecision was causing him. “It's easy for Jace to tell you to take your time, because he stands to lose nothing from this—a month ago, he wasn't even on your radar, and now he's at the center of the screen. But I stand to lose everything.” He
swallowed thickly, like the words were getting caught in his throat, and suddenly my heart felt bruised and heavy. “I lose a little more every day I have to see you with him. And I can't watch that anymore, Faythe. I need to know what I mean to you.”

Vertigo washed over me, like I'd just plunged downhill on a roller coaster and left my stomach behind. “Are you asking me to choose? Right now?”

Marc stared at his hands in his lap. Then he looked up at me, his gaze equal parts dread and determination. “Yeah. I am. I have to, for my own sanity. So make up your mind, Faythe. Me or him. For better or worse. Right now.”

“Marc, please don't do this…” I clutched the edge of the table, panic building in my chest. The pressure was so great I could hardly breathe.

“Damn it, Faythe!” Marc stood and stomped across the room, then turned to face me, pain and frustration lining his strong features. “I hate knowing you want him to touch you. And I hate it even worse knowing that there's more to it than that. If you want him more than you want me, just fucking tell me and get it over with. We don't even know if we're all going to live through the fight, and I don't want to die without knowing whether you love me as much as I love you.”

I met Marc's gaze, and my heart hurt so badly I wanted it to stop beating just to end the pain. “Marc, you know I love you…”

His eyes searched mine, his focus shifting from one to the other. Then he exhaled, and his anguish stole my breath. “I know that better than
you
seem to know it. We belong together, Faythe. I've known that since the moment you realized you could piss me off and make
me smile in the same sentence, when you were fifteen years old. I know you better than anyone else ever will. I know what nightmares wake you up in the middle of the night. I know where you go to be alone when you sneak off during a group run. I know that you're every bit as tough as the face you show the world, but that underneath that, you're scared. And I also know that fear has never stopped you from doing a damn thing you put your heart into. So why can't you put your heart into
us?
”

“Marc…” I started, and his face blurred with my tears.

“He loves you.” Marc glanced at Jace over my shoulder, then refocused on me. “But I love you more. He could walk away from you with a broken heart, if he had to, and live to love another day. But I can't. Since the first time we kissed, there's never been anyone for me but you. Not in my bed, not in my life, and not in my heart. And there never will be. And that's what I need to hear from you. Now.” His hope, and fear, and desperation, were so thick in the room that I could hardly breathe. “Purgatory's just another kind of hell, Faythe.”

“I…” I curled my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. On the edge of my vision, Jace stiffened, waiting for my answer, every bit as tense as Marc was, and my heart throbbed within the vise of my chest. “I can't…I can't do this right now.” I could only juggle so many crises at a time, and I couldn't afford to be rushed into a decision that would determine the course of the rest of my life. And both of theirs. I had to be sure, beyond any possibility of a doubt.

Otherwise, I'd be ruining us all.

Marc blinked. Reactions passed over his face too quickly for me to focus on, but the kaleidoscope of emotions ended in pain and anger. Then, suddenly, his face was blank. He'd locked me out, and that realization bruised me deep in my soul.

“Fine.” His voice cracked on that one syllable, and he backed slowly across the room toward the door, jaw clenched. “But I can't hang around and wait for you to make up your mind. I'm done with this.” One hand on the doorknob, he turned to Jace and spoke through clenched teeth. “Don't let her follow me. Do you understand?”

Jace nodded, mute. Obviously stunned beyond words.

Then the door slammed, and Marc was gone.

“No!” The closing door—a sight I would forever associate with devastating loss—shook my very foundation, triggering a tsunami of remorse and anguish I could not surface from. The pain inside was like nothing I'd ever felt. Dean could beat me to death an inch at a time and it wouldn't compare to having my heart ripped out and shredded in front of me.

Was this how Marc felt when he found out about Jace…?

“Marc!” I raced across the room, but Jace beat me to the door. “Move! I have to catch him.”

“No. Faythe, no…” Jace held me back, and when I tried to push him away from the door, he picked me up and held me. I reached around him, clawing the wooden door frame when I couldn't reach the knob. My nails broke. Blood streaked the door, but I hardly felt that pain—my fingers couldn't compare to my heart. To the other half of my soul that had gone missing.

“Let me go!” I didn't realize I was crying until I saw teardrops soaking into Jace's shirt. “Put me down!”

He set me down, but stood firm in front of the door, and I hardly recognized the pained lines spanning his forehead.

I took a deep breath. “Jace, get the hell out of my way.”

He exhaled slowly and stared straight into my eyes, holding me by both arms. “He doesn't want to see you right now. I'm sorry. I didn't want it to go down like this, but you heard him.”

Yeah, I'd heard him. But I didn't believe him. He'd dumped me once before, but that hadn't lasted. This wouldn't, either, so long as I could find him before he'd gone too far to follow… “Last warning, Jace. Move.”

“I can't. I'm sorry…”

My fist slammed into his cheek, and Jace's head smacked the door. “Damn it!” He rubbed his face and the angry line of his jaw rivaled the devastation behind his eyes. “You fucking hit me!” His blue eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest like a nightclub bouncer. “He doesn't want to see you, Faythe. And I don't blame him. You have a right to make your choice, but he has a right to his, too, and he made it.”

I shook all over; the room blurred beneath tears I couldn't stop.

Jace sighed and uncrossed his arms. “Faythe.” I looked up to find him staring down at me, his blue eyes dark like the sky before a storm. “He's gone.”

“No…” I fell onto my knees, clutching at my stomach, trying to fight the hollow feeling growing inside me. “He can't be. He promised…” I sniffled, and pain flared to life in my still-kind-of-broken nose.

Jace sank to the floor in front of me, his back against the door. He pulled me into his lap and I wrapped myself around him, my chin on his shoulder, his pale stubble rough against my wet cheek. I put one palm against the cold metal door, willing it to open. Willing Marc to be standing there.

But Jace was right. He was gone, and the closed door wasn't going to deliver my miracle.

“What am I going to do without him?” I whispered, as Jace's hand smoothed my hair down my back and slow tears trailed toward my chin.

He inhaled, and his chest expanded beneath mine, solid and warm. “You're going to cry, then you're going to pick yourself up and keep going, because there are a lot of other people depending on you now, with or without Marc.”

Even beneath the weight of this new catastrophe, I knew Jace was right. I held him tighter. “But I get to cry first?”

In reply, he guided my head onto his shoulder and stroked my hair again as I sobbed.

 

Later, when my tears were spent and his legs were probably half-dead from lack of circulation, I sat up and leaned my forehead against his. “Thank you.”

He rubbed my back with both hands. “Anytime.”

“I'm sorry I hit you.”

Jace frowned. “Me, too. Did it bruise?”

“Yeah. Does it hurt?”

“Hell, yeah, but probably less than your nose.” He set me on the floor so he could stretch his legs. “You want something to eat?”

“No.” Maybe never again. “I just want to sleep.” Forever and ever.

“No problem,” Jace said, but his familiar grin was noticeably missing. This wasn't how he wanted to win. I knew that. But I didn't have anything else in me at the moment.