And anyway, the frame would break long before the oak panel would.

I pushed back my hair one more time and ran up the steps. At the top, I grabbed the support post for balance and kicked the door as hard as I could, concentrating the blow just below the doorknob. Wood splintered, and I smiled in satisfaction. I grabbed the doorknob and shook it with both hands. Nothing happened. It didn’t even budge.

Damn it!

Fingers appeared in the window, pushing aside a set of cheap white miniblinds to reveal a pair of dark blue eyes and a lock of brown hair.

“Faythe, what the hell are you doing?” Jace yelled through the glass. His face disappeared and the steel chain rattled as he tried to unlock the door. But then something heavy hit the wood, probably someone else’s hand.

Vic laughed. “That’s not Faythe,” he said. “That’s the Big Bad Wolf, come to blow us all away.”

“She’s gonna get in one way or another,” Jace said.

Vic laughed again. “She’s gonna try.”

“You bet your ass,” I shouted, and kicked the wood again. More splintering this time, but still the door wouldn’t budge. However, this time the problem wasn’t the strength of the door, but the strength of the guys holding it in place from the other side.

For a long moment, no one spoke. I was almost convinced they’d gone out the back door when Parker said, “Okay.”

“What? No!” Vic insisted. “He doesn’t want to see her, and that’s his choice.”

“I’l take the blame,” Parker said, and the chain rattled again. “Get out of the way.” The dead bolt slid back and the door opened just wide enough for me to see his face. Parker’s eyes were hard, his brows furrowed in unease. “I’m going to let you in here on one condition.”

“Fine. Anything.” I was perfectly willing to behave myself in exchange for admission. I could break open the door, but I couldn’t keep them from holding it in place. And if I went through the window, I’d be lucky not to bleed to death before I got to Marc.

“I’m letting you in to keep you from breaking the door, not so that you can break everything else in the house. No damage. Not to our stuff.

Not to his stuff. And not to him. You go make it better, not worse.”

“That’s all I want. You should know that by now.” But I saw in his eyes that he didn’t know that. He didn’t trust me not to hurt Marc. After al , I’d done it before.

I closed my eyes and smoothed my hair back, trying to get hold of myself both physically and emotionally before I went inside.

Parker pulled the door open and I stepped over the threshold, dripping rain on the scarred hardwood floor. Jace and Vic stood side by side at the foot of the stairs, blocking my way. Their arms were crossed over their chests, forming a physical barrier, another wall to knock down.

I wasn’t up to it. Not anymore. Outside I’d had strength. I’d been willing to tear down the whole house to get to Marc if I had to. But now I was almost there, and I was tired. I was already sick of fighting, and I hadn’t even reached the ring.

“Come on, guys,” I said as I approached them. “Give me a break.

Please.”

The conflict on Jace’s face was torture to see. I knew how he felt about me, but I hadn’t really considered how he felt about Marc until I saw how far he was wil ing to go to protect him. From me. Even from me.

If he could, Jace would take me away from Marc. But he wouldn’t let me hurt him.

I met his beautiful cobalt eyes and nodded. It was the best I could do at the moment to acknowledge his pain and the awkwardness of the situation. Apparently it was enough, because he stepped aside.

Vic didn’t. My shoulder brushed his bicep as I walked past him and up the steps, still dripping, and now shivering from the air-conditioned breeze on my drenched skin.

The lights were on downstairs, but the upstairs landing was dark. If not for a bright flash of lightning through a rear window, I might have tripped over the throw rug at the top of the stairs. As it was, I had to feel my way past the bathroom and the first bedroom—the one Jace and Vic shared—with one hand on the banister. I felt along the opposite wall until I located Marc’s door.

My hand found his doorknob, and I hesitated. I let my eyes close and my head fall back as I listened to the rain, wondering how on earth I was going to get him to hear me out. Finally, I opened my eyes—not that it mattered, I couldn’t see a damn thing—and let go of the doorknob. I knocked instead. He would only react in kind if I started things off with discourtesy and aggression.

Of course, by being polite, I was giving him the opportunity to deny me entrance. Or to ignore me completely, which was exactly what he did.

“Marc?” I called, knocking again. He made no reply, but a light went on in his room, il uminating my soaked sneakers from the crack beneath his door. “May I please come in? I owe you an apology and an explanation, and I’d like to give them to you face-to-face. Please.”

Wood scraped wood on the other side of the door: dresser drawers opening. “Fine,” he said. “I have something to explain to you, too.”

My pulse spiked. That couldn’t be good.

I opened the door slowly, and the first thing I registered was his scent.

The entire room smelled like Marc and literally made my heart throb. I swallowed, and blinked tears from my eyes as I breathed him in. He was everywhere. He could leave at that moment and his scent would stil be there ten years later.