“I trusted you!” he shouted again. “I brought you into my home! And you summoned him into it. I should have let you bleed out in that library.I should have walked away and let you die! My life has been one shit fest after another since I met you!”

Pierce was moving cautiously forward to get between us, his eyes on Nick, not the knife. His hands were utterly devoid of magic, which made me feel better. The gun I had pointed at Nick was starting to shake, but I wouldn’t drop it.

“Your life has been a shit fest?” I shouted, and Pierce halted. “Don’t talk to me about a shit fest! I just bluffed my way out of you becoming Al’s latest blow-up doll!”

Someone pounded on the wall, a muffled voice demanding we shut up.

“You can get Turned for all I care!” I continued. “And for your information, I didn’t summon Al! He just showed up! He does that! My life has been hell since I met you, Nick. You saddled me with a demon mark and got this started. I don’t owe you anything! Anything!”

The last was a veritable shriek, and Nick lowered the knife. He glanced at Pierce, then me. Backing up, he set the dagger on the top shelf. Head down, he strode to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him roughly, not acknowledging what I had said. My eyes met Pierce’s, and I swallowed hard when I heard Nick retching. Yeah, my stomach didn’t feel all that good, either. Damn it, I was crying, too.

Jax hovered for a moment in indecision, then dropped to the floor and slid under the door.

The soft touch on my shoulder jerked me straight. Bringing the gun around, I gasped, trying to see through the tears. It was Pierce crouching beside me. “IT …,” I babbled, but I couldn’t let go of the gun. Nick … He’d wanted to kill me.

“Go away,” I managed. I was crying, and I wiped the back of my hand under an eye.

“No,” Pierce said gently, one knee on the faded linoleum. “I may have used your mistake to twist Newt into forcing Al to grant me leave, but I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”

I looked up, numb as I wiped my eyes again. “I don’t feel so good.”

Pierce encircled me with his arms, and before I could protest, he pulled me out from under the table and carried me to the couch. I was trembling, and he draped the afghan over me. My blood was being drawn inward, leaving me cold. I couldn’t let go of the gun. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.

“I never should have come here,” I said as Pierce tucked the scratchy yarn under my chin. “This was a mistake. You were right. I should have gotten on the bus.”