“Because Mom would smell my blood the next time she gets within half a mile of here.”

I raised both brows, reluctantly impressed. I’d expected him to beg for his life, or at least appeal to our frayed familial bond. But he obviously knew that would do no good. And that even if I were willing to kill someone who posed no immediate threat, I wouldn’t hurt our mother, even to punish him. She’d already buried one son, and I would not put her through a second funeral in less than a month.

“What the hell are you doing here? And keep in mind that Shifters can take a lot of pain without actually dying.” I’d know.

Ryan had seen me beaten into a mass of blood, lumps, and purple bruises after fighting off the first of the psychotic rapists and murderers he’d helped kidnap me and two other tabbies, including our cousin Abby. All to protect his own ass. For him, that was always the bottom line. Ryan was a Grade-A coward. Just looking at him made me feel sick.

“I need to see her.” Our mother, of course. His crutch, bank, security blanket, and the only member of our family he actually seemed to care about.

“I don’t give a shit what you need,” I spat, and Marc huffed in agreement.

“Fine. I get that and I don’t blame you.” Ryan nodded, always eager to placate, to keep from getting his face pounded in. “But she needs to see me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why would she need to see you?”

“For the same reason she needs to see you. Because she’s our mother. Don’t you think she’s been through enough with Ethan?”

“Don’t.” I swallowed thickly and my hands curled into fists as Jace growled at my side. “You do not get to say his name. Ethan was everything you’re not. He fought for all of us, over and over. He died fighting for an innocent tabby. But you… You sold us out.” He dropped a gaze full of guilt, and that only made me angrier. “Look at me,” I demanded, my throat aching from holding back the things I wanted to shout at him. The accusations I’d been holding in for months. “Eye contact is the least you owe me.”

Ryan raised his head, and the misery I saw on his face did nothing to mollify my rage. He didn’t know misery. He knew nothing like the pain he’d caused.

“Abby was seventeen years old, and a virgin, and you let them rape her. Sara was getting married, and you let them rape her, then kill her. And you let them put their hands all over me. You let them try…”

He flinched, and I couldn’t finish. He knew what he’d let them try. And from the way he cringed, I’d say the memories hurt. Good. But they couldn’t hurt him like they hurt me.

“Don’t you dare tell me what Mom needs. She does not need you. None of us do.”

Ryan sighed and his gaze strengthened, like he was looking for something in my eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but she forgave me, Faythe. Why can’t you?”

My fist flew before I knew it was going to. His nose crunched, then blood sprayed my shirt and neck. Ryan howled, but the sound ended in a gurgle. His hands flew to cover his face.

Marc purred and rubbed against my ankle. Ryan dropped to his knees, cradling his ruined nose.

“Mom wasn’t grabbed, and kicked, and punched, and humiliated,” I snapped. “She wasn’t thrown around a cage in a filthy basement. She wasn’t touched. She has the luxury of forgiveness because she doesn’t fail to fight them off in her nightmares. Did you know I dream about it, Ryan?” I dropped into a squat in front of him and pulled his head back by his hair until I saw his eyes, already surrounded by rapidly swelling, darkening flesh. “Did you know it happens all over again, every night I sleep alone? Every night I’m too tired to fight off the memories?” I swallowed a sob and forced the next words out. “I needed you then. You were supposed to protect me. But I don’t need you now.”

My fist slammed into his jaw, and his head hit the tree trunk. His eyes watered, but I couldn’t tell if they were tears of regret or pain. And I didn’t care.

One of the guys tugged me backward by the hem of my shirt, and I stood, the cold forgotten. “We were family.” I kicked, and my boot slammed into his thigh. “You were my big brother.”

Ryan’s tears fell. He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him. Didn’t want to.

“Brothers are supposed to make sure things like that never happen to little sisters. It’s your job, whether you’re an enforcer or not. Ethan knew that. Why the hell didn’t you?” I kicked again, and Ryan huddled against the base of the tree. He didn’t even try to defend himself. Like he wanted to be punished. Like being hit alleviated some of the guilt.

Marc tugged me again, and I stumbled backward, half-shocked to see the blood on my hand. I hadn’t realized I still carried that much rage.

Ryan looked up. He wiped blood and tears on the sleeve of his jacket and stood slowly. “I’m so sorry, Faythe. I know it’s never gonna be enough, but I am so, so sorry.”

Yeah. Tell that to Sara and Abby. “Get out.” My eyes burned, and I wanted to rub them. Or close them.

“Faythe…”

“Get out!” I shouted. “And if you come back, I swear I’ll wear your canines as earrings.”

“Please…” He tried one last time, swiping at the steady trickle of blood from his nose.

“Go!”

Finally Ryan ran. He looked back twice. And I only realized I was crying when I fell to my knees, and Jace licked the hot tears from my face with his warm, rough tongue. They curled around me, both of them sharing their warmth and their comfort, and I dug my fingers into their fur. And for several minutes, I could only cry.