Page 128 of Power

I shook my head. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks as my throat clenched.

“This is Jace’s blood.”

After a moment, Blake guided me by the elbow to the side of the room, theoretically out of earshot of everyone else who was staring at me like a woman who’d escaped a horror movie.

And then, in a low growl, he asked, “Who the fuck did this to him?”

“Marcus,” I said, feeling nauseous from my heart beating so fast.

“Marcus,” Blake repeated, as if trying to remember who I was talking about. “The guy he works with?”

I nodded. “Is Jace okay? Is he going to be okay?”

Blake put his hand on my shoulder and switched to a soothing tone. “He’s lost a lot of blood. They’ve taken him up to surgery. I’ll bring you back to a room where you can wait. I already called his family; they’re on their way.”

“His brothers?”

Blake nodded. “I have more questions for you.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want, but please, please save him.”

I’m not sure how long I stood in that room after Blake left me. Chewing my thumbnail, which was really gross since it was still coated in blood. The taste of iron lingered on my tongue, and on more than one occasion, a nurse came in and offered to help clean me up. But I didn’t want to do anything until I knew Jace was okay. I didn’t want to be in the bathroom. I didn’t want to be in the cafeteria. I wanted to be right where Blake had left me, right where he would look for me when he had an update.

The door opened.

Blake’s large frame ambled into the room, but surprisingly, he wasn’t alone. Ryker, I recognized: that was my best friend, Tessa’s, brother. But I’d never met the third guy.

“Is Jace okay?” I asked Blake, my heart lurching.

“Still in surgery,” he answered.

“Is he … is he going to make it?” I couldn’t keep the tremor from my voice.

“They’re doing everything they can.” Blake’s voice carried that doctor calm, but beneath it simmered rage. “Scarlett, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

I scanned the men, noting their demeanor. Clenching and unclenching fists, broadshoulders, tight jaws.

“You know Ryker.” Blake motioned to him. “And this is Axel. If it’s okay with you, they’d like to hear your answers,” Blake started.

“Okay?”

“Tell us what happened,” Axel said, his voice low and controlled.

And so I did. Through it all, the guys glared with what could only be described as controlled fury as they listened to me recount their friend being attacked.

“His jugular was punctured, but the cut stopped abruptly,” Blake said. “That pattern suggests he intended to slice the entire throat.”

I wasn’t sure why this mattered. Medically, they had to repair whatever damage there was, so who cared? That was when I realized that these men, these friends of Jace, must want every horrid detail.

“Who stopped the attack?” Axel wondered aloud, his eyes narrowing.

“Um … I guess I did?”

“How?” Ryker asked.

“I kicked Marcus.”

Kicked. Perhaps wondering how a small woman could stop a murder without wearing something like steel-toed boots, the men glanced down at my feet and seemed to realize I was barefoot.