The windows were all closed against the winter chill, and while that had worked in my favor while I was crunching on gravel, closed windows were a definite inconvenience for eavesdropping. Desperate for information, I inched my way along the wall, the brick ledge catching on my jacket, and the indistinct voices inside grew clearer with each step. I stopped next to the first uncovered window, my heart beating a frantic, staccato rhythm against my breastbone.

“…how stupid do you think we are?” Alex demanded, and my racing pulse pumped blood through my body so quickly my cat vision started to go dark around the edges.

Jace’s response was too low and calm for me to make out, and I was suddenly glad I’d texted him. Otherwise, he would’ve been caught off guard by his half brother’s accusation.

“Mom may believe that, but I’m not quite so…gullible. You didn’t really think you could come spying for Sanders, then walk out of here with your face intact? Or, alive.”

“Alex…?” Jace sounded wary, then there was a solid thump behind my head as something crashed into the wall. Jace groaned.

“Pick him up,” Alex ordered.

Adrenaline spiked in my veins. That was my cue.

I glanced toward the tree line just as Marc stepped out of the woods, and I held out one palm, begging him silently to wait. If I could get Jace out without revealing Marc’s presence, I would. Besides, we stood a better chance with him as surprise backup—if they didn’t know he was there, they couldn’t defend themselves against him.

Marc shook his head, and though I couldn’t hear it, I was sure he was growling softly. Insistent, I waved him off again, and finally he nodded. But I knew that at the first sign—or sound—of trouble, he’d be at my back.

I was counting on it.

Still clutching the folding knife, I raced up the steps and threw open the back door, then stepped into a small kitchen walled with cabinets.

In the adjoining living room, Alex gaped at me in surprise, a hammer held high, ready to deliver a blow. Jace was on his knees on the worn carpet, his wrists bound at his back, the right side of his head swollen and turning purple. His eyes were unfocused, and he didn’t seem to know I was there. In the second Alex spent in shock, Jace began to tilt to the right like a felled tree. He would have fallen over if not for the grip Lance had on his arm from behind.

It took me half a second to absorb what I saw. Then I dropped the knife on the countertop and launched myself across the kitchen. I vaulted off the end of the short bar with both hands, but my left arm took the brunt of my weight, so I flew crooked. As I swung into the living room, my right foot slammed into the side of Lance’s head instead of his arm. He splayed across the couch, out cold.

Startled, Alex leaped back, and the hammer-wielding arm fell to his side.

“Jace?” I knelt by him, one eye on Alex, suddenly wishing I’d kept the knife. Jace’s head was swollen from his ear all the way into his hairline, and his skin was darkening by the second. I couldn’t tell if he had any cracked bones, but he’d been knocked silly. Almost unconscious.

He started to fall over again, and I lowered him onto his rump against an armchair—not an easy task with his ankles taped—hoping he’d come back to himself quickly. If he’d been hit with the hammer, his skull would have been caved in rather than merely bruised. So he must have been punched. Or kicked. Either way, he’d be fine.

He had to be.

I stood slowly, facing Alex and his hammer with nothing but my fists. Make that one fist—pain was shooting through my right wrist again, thanks to my vault off the countertop. “He’s not spying, Alex.” I tried to sound calm and confident, but I was unarmed and in enemy territory.

“Yeah, and you’re proof of that, right?” Alex sneered. “That he’s not spying for your dad?”

“I’m here for moral support.” I stepped to the side, drawing his focus from Jace as I edged my way closer to the knife I’d left on the countertop. “He didn’t want to come here alone. In case this happened.” I gestured to the entire room with my right arm, glad my jacket hid my wrist brace, concealing my weakness.

“And you were what? Hiding in his trunk?”

But before I could answer, Jace stirred on my right, gingerly rubbing his head. “Faythe? What the hell are you doing here?”

Great. There went my half-assed cover story.

“Rescuing you,” I hissed, shivering in the draft from the open back door.

Alex laughed and gestured with the hammer. “And doing a fine job of it. Now, if you’ll sit pretty while I call my dad, I promise we won’t hurt you. My father’s going to be almost as happy to see you as I am.”

I raised one brow. “Why don’t you sit down and shut up, and I’ll promise not to kick your face in on my way out the door?”

Alex’s gaze flicked to my left. I turned as a blur of motion raced toward me from an open doorway. I barely had time to gasp. Pain gripped my neck, squeezing. My body slammed into the wall. Fresh pain shot down my spine and whipped around my head. Air exploded from my lungs in one violent rush.

I couldn’t breathe past the hand tightening around my throat, pinning me to the wall. My feet dangled above the floor. My head spun. The blurred face in front of me wouldn’t come into focus. Without air, I couldn’t identify my attacker’s scent.

I clawed at the hand, raking it with my nails. My mouth sucked uselessly at the air. I kicked aimlessly, my boots slamming into his legs over and over, to no avail. My blurry vision darkened. My throat felt thick and useless. My ears rang. The pressure in my head made it feel huge.