“Huh,” Jase replies. “Did he think you were dead for six years, too? Or is that a special hell reserved just for me?”

That pain again, squeezing at my chest like a viper around my cold, dead heart. Oh, Jesus. This is so hard. Jase’s face is full of anger and hurt and I just want to take it all away, but I can’t.

I just seem to make it worse.

“I’m the one who saved her from your fucked-up family,” Elliot interjects forcefully, staring Jase down. Jase rises from his spot on the couch and the two face off, fists curled tight, eyes burning.

“Couldn’t stop her from coming back, though, could you, lover boy?” Jase retorts. They’re rapidly closing the gap between them, pulled together by some magnetic rage that is commanding them to take each other’s heads off.

“Stop!” I scream.

They both look at me like they’ve momentarily forgotten that I’m here.

“Please,” I implore. “Please can we just talk instead of all of this macho crap?”

Jase cocks an eyebrow but takes a step back from Elliot. “You’ve just killed four people, and now you want to sit down and talk?”

“Guy has a point,” Elliot says, rubbing his jaw. “You’re kind of bossy.”

“Extremely bossy,” Jase agrees, taking up his spot on the couch.

“Well,” I say sarcastically, a fake smile plastered onto my face. “Aren’t you two just best friends all of a sudden?”

Elliot laughs bitterly and perches on the other end of the couch, on the arm, as far away as he can get from Jase yet still technically sitting down. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead park my butt on the coffee table, my feet resting on the edge of the couch. I’m facing both of them, and this way, I’ll be able to shove myself in between them if another pissing contest gets out of hand. They’re both still clearly on high alert, but at least they aren’t throwing punches. For now.

I bite my lip as I stare at the back of the couch, trying to think of the best tack to take.

“You’re awfully quiet for a girl who wants to talk,” Jase says.

I swivel my gaze to him. “Just trying to find the right words, is all.”

“How’d you know it was her?” Elliot asks Jase suddenly, talking straight past me as if I don’t exist.

“You got a phone call,” I say suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Who was it? Do they know who I am?”

Jase puts his hands out in front of him, clearly annoyed by the barrage of questions. “Whoa. You’ve been dead for six years, and now you’re back fucking my dad, and you’re interrogating me?”

I slump again. He’s right.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“I had a friend look into some things. Into you, actually,” he says, looking at Elliot. “The trail led to that night at the hospital where Juliette supposedly died.”

Elliot’s eyebrows rise impossibly high. “So, based on that, you figured out who she was? That seems like a pretty fucking big leap.”

Jase’s jaw tightens and he appears to be gathering his thoughts.

“I didn’t mean to look,” he says, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. He ignores Elliot and instead addresses me directly. “That night when my dad … stabbed you.”

Elliot sucks in a loud breath when Jase says stabbed and I hold my index finger up to him, motioning him to stay silent. He still doesn’t know about that night when Dornan tied me up and stuck his face between my legs before deciding to plunge a knife into my thigh.

Well. He does now.

“You were … hurt,” Jase continues, “and your clothes had blood all over them. I swear, I wasn’t trying to find anything … but I saw your tattoo … and for a second there, I thought I saw what it was hiding.”

Of course. My scars. I’ll never be rid of them.

“It was just a second, you know?” Jase says, his voice close to breaking. “I told myself it was nothing. That I was just imagining things. You were dead! And you don’t look like you. I made myself forget about it. And then when I got that call … I had to look again. I had to know.”

His face is lined with our horrid past. “You’ve been right under my nose this whole time.”

I don’t know how much longer I can hold myself together. I’m cracking, breaking under my deceit. What does he think of me?

God, he must hate me so much for the things I’ve done.

Elliot breaks the thick tension by adding some more of his own.

“She’s been under your nose for a few months. Your father and your brothers? They’ve been under your nose for six fucking years. And you haven’t tried to get away? You haven’t tried to kill any of them? After what they did to her? After what they put inside her?”

Jase’s face pales at the same time that my head whips around, my pleading gaze meeting Elliot’s. “El, don’t,” I say, panic bubbling up into my throat. “Not that.”

Elliot stands. “I held her hand while they fucking raped her all over again!” He’s got tears in his eyes and Jase is staring at us with his mouth open, gasping like a goldfish.

“What is he saying, Julz?” Jase says, his skin suddenly the color of a sack of flour. Drained, devoid of any color, warmth or energy.

“She was fucking pregnant because of what they did!” Elliot yells, pointing at me while he addresses Jase.

Jase chokes a little, his eyes bulging. “Julz, talk to me. I don’t want him telling me this shit. Talk to me.”

I shrug, the weight of the cold gun heavy in my hand. “What do you want me to say?” I ask softly. “He’s not lying. It happened. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jase mumbles in disbelief, echoing my words. “Of course it matters. I asked you to tell me everything. What else haven’t you told me?”

And now you’re back fucking my dad.

“Nothing,” I say numbly. “I was pregnant, I had an abortion. And then I wasn’t pregnant anymore.”

Jase covers his face with his hands; he’s shaking with rage.

“It was a long time ago,” I say softly. “There’s nothing you could have done about it.”

I watch, fascinated and sick, as Jase reaches for a vase on the coffee table and throws it as hard as he can at the wall, where it shatters into a million tiny pieces that rain down onto the sofa.

Elliot and I both jump at the same time as the vase impacts the wall, but Jase is oblivious. He’s so upset. He’s shaking. Violently. He looks like The Incredible Hulk right before he hulks out, and I hope he doesn’t keep hulk-smashing everything in sight.

I turn so I can keep one eye on Jase and one eye on El.

“You didn’t have to bring that up,” I mutter, my tone like a sulky child. “That was low, Elliot.”

“Shut up,” Elliot says loudly, and I’m taken aback. I don’t think he’s ever told me to shut up. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Juliette. You want him on your side? Fine. But that’s his father. His brothers. You’d better make damn sure you convince him how much they deserve to suffer. You think he’s on your side? Who’s to say he isn’t about to call them right now and tell them the truth?”

Jase seems to grow taller, his entire body tightly coiled and ready to strike. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he yells, storming Elliot. Elliot holds his ground so that the two face off, centimeters separating their contorted faces. I take a step back, overwhelmed by the two men in front of me. It’s frightening how much they both mean to me. And all they want to do is destroy each other.

That damn pain again, crushing my heart with its vice-like grip. I can’t bear it much more. For a moment I wish I didn’t feel anything for them, because it would be easier that way—but then I really, truly would have nobody on the planet. I’d be completely alone.

They’re both yelling, a tense exchange, and that familiar ring starts in my ears again. Just make it stop. I’m so tired.

A hand clamps onto my shoulders, Elliot’s hand, and he shakes me slightly as he points to Jase. “You can’t trust these people! They tried to kill you, Julz!”

I stare daggers at Elliot and open my mouth to reply, but Jase gets in first.

“I tried to save her,” he growls, his index finger jabbing into Elliot’s chest. “You weren’t there. What do you know?”

Elliot sneers, looking from Jase to me. “He’s Dornan’s son,” he spits, knocking Jase’s hand away from his chest with a swipe of his own hand.

Jase roars, tackling Elliot to the ground, where the two grapple and fight to overpower each other. Jase straddles Elliot and punches him square in the nose, and Elliot responds by somehow reaching up and getting Jase in some sort of reverse headlock that I can’t quite figure out. They’re pretty evenly matched in height, strength, technique—and anger.

And love for me, I realize sadly.

“You’ve got Dornan’s blood in your veins,” Elliot taunts Jase, as the two grapple. Elliot lands a punch on Jase’s cheek, and Jase follows that up with a swift chop to Elliot’s throat that leaves him gasping and choking for air.

“Stop,” I plead, standing over the two of them as Elliot again manages to overpower Jase momentarily, sitting on his chest and giving him another hit to the face. Jase’s face is cut and bleeding, which only spurs Elliot further.

“Elliot!” I scream, grabbing at his arms as he continues to pummel Jase, who by now is starting to slow. Elliot’s hits are becoming sloppy and unfocused, his only aim to make Jase’s face look like hamburger meat.

I take a step back and charge forward, all of my weight focused on my hands. I lunge for Elliot, aiming to knock him off Jase or at least get in between the two before he beats him to death.