“Zoey.” Before her family can decide if they want to keep acting like the human barrier, I’m stepping between them, reaching for her. Only my hands hover an inch away, as I’m worried about causing additional pain. “What happened?”

She’s covered in scratches, most just tiny abrasions, but there’s a thick one at the base of her neck, and there looks to be hastily tied bandages around spots on her arms and her legs. Bandages with growing red stains. The beginnings of bruises shadow her forehead, cheek, elbows, and knees. One ankle has started to swell, and she holds one arm to her chest, the angle of it off.

These aren’t the signs of a small stumble. Whatever I missed looks to have gotten away with almost killing the woman I love.

I love.

I love her.

And here she is, broken and bloody from some mystery event. If I don’t find out who or what hurt her soon, the violence boiling in my brain might find an unintended target.

“Here. Could you hold this one? It doesn’t hurt as much.” Zoey offers her left hand to me, and I accept it, cradling her palm as carefully as I would a baby chick.

“Did someone attack you?” A trembling starts in my chest, the product of barely contained rage. My wolf wants to break free and lay waste to the world.

She looks surprised and confused. “What? No. I fell.”

“You fell?” I finally tear my eyes away from her for a moment, only to give Abram the most disgusted, hate-filled glare I can manage.

The excuse for her injures is the oldest in the book when it comes to abuse.

Brother or not, when I discover which one of these men hurt Zoey, he’ll be lucky if I only kill him.

The blond man seems upset, returning my angry scowl with a tense jaw and helpless eyes. “She did fall.”

“And who the fuck helped her?” I hiss.

Zoey snatches her hand back from mine, and I’m not surprised. I don’t recognize myself in this moment. When I turn my head, planning to apologize for scaring her, a palm meets my face.

But not in a slap, like I deserve. Instead, Zoey smooths her hand over my cheek, petting me.

“Calm down. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Again, she gives me an attempt at a smile, but I can see her pain in the expression.

I huff out a humorless laugh. “Hell, Zoey. You look like you got into a brawl with a wild animal. You are not okay.”

She trails her fingers over my face again, the tips of them tangling in my hair. “Well, I’ll be okay. It’s just some bruises. A cut or two.”