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He frowned. Was she sick? Should he call Doctor Atlas or something? Was she staying in there to avoid him because he’d acted like a complete asshole?

He walked toward her room?—

And paused. “Fuck,” he muttered, pushing his sweat-damp hair back.

Time. He’d give her a bit more time.

He went up to the fourth floor and rapped his fist against Jack and Ivy’s door.

“Come in,” Jack mumbled.

Darien opened it and found Jack throwing knives at a target on the wall.

“Hey, Jacky,” Darien said, trying his best to sound more upbeat than he felt, even as his brother-in-law refused to look athim. “How you feeling?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb.

“Do you want my honest answer?” He snapped his wrist back and threw the knife at the target. The blade found its mark in the tiny space between two other knives, hilt vibrating from the impact. Jack’s brown eyes flicked to Darien’s for a millisecond. “What do you want?”

“To tell you that I’m sorry,” Darien replied as Jack walked to the target and plucked the three blades off.

“Why? It’s not your fault,” he muttered without looking at him. He looked tired. Aged. A million times different from the Jack they were all used to. “Ivy wanted me gone, and there’s nothing we could’ve said to change her mind.” His tone was bitter. He returned to his throwing position on the other side of the spacious bedroom and rolled his shoulders, preparing to throw.

“I’m still sorry,” Darien said.

A pause. Jack drew a breath that scraped through him. “I think you owe Ivy more of an apology than me.” He threw—another perfect bull’s eye. “If you ever see her again.”

Darien frowned. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.” His eyes finally found Darien’s for longer than a second. They were bloodshot, the skin underneath puffy. “She should be back by now. We both know that.” He threw a second knife, this one missing the mark—no doubt from the blur of fresh tears Darien had spotted in his eyes.

Jack cursed.

“Depends on which exit they took,” Darien offered. “If they went north like Roman, it’ll take them longer to get here.”

He wiped his nose with a knuckle. “You heard from Roman?”

“He’s in Arbor.”

He threw the third knife. “Who with?” He walked back to the target to retrieve the blades.

“Pax and Shay.”

He palmed all three knives. “Where’s Loren? Shouldn’t you be watching her or something instead of dicking around with me?” His tone was glacial.

“She’s asleep,” Darien responded, keeping his own tone polite. “She hasn’t come out of her room since we got home.”

He grunted and resumed position.

“Besides,” Darien added, “I think I can spare a few minutes of my time for my brother.”

“In law,” Jack added before throwing the first knife.

“Makes no difference to me.”

“She sick or something?” Instead of throwing at the target, he lightly tossed the second knife above his head, catching it by the tip.

“I hope not.”

“So you won’t be dying in two hours?” Another toss and catch.