“Look, you were actually doing them a favor, and no one got hurt.” He gestured with the can as he spoke. “They’ll bluster for a while, then the whole thing will blow over. Right?” Leaning against the door frame, Jace took a long swallow of his soda, and when no one answered, a tight, cautious smile stole over his face. “I mean, what are they going to do? Execute you twice?”
“That’s not fun—” I started. But then Marc’s fist slammed into the coffee table, and my last syllable was lost beneath the splinter of wood as it broke in two.
“You think this is a joke?” He stood, kicking one-half of the table out of his way. “Because I can guarantee you the Alphas are taking it seriously.” He turned from Jace to glare at me, but I saw the truth in his eyes. He wasn’t mad at either of us. Not really. He was mad at himself. “I should never have let you go in there.” He pulled his foot back and kicked the other half of the coffee table, and I flinched when it smashed into the wall near the door.
Michael appeared from the bathroom, looking surprisingly comfortable in jeans, hiking boots, and a thick flannel over-shirt rather than his usual lawyerly attire. He took one look at Marc, then pulled Jace behind him out the door, on the way to the forest.
When they were gone, Lucas stood calmly and picked up one half of the coffee table. Marc took the other piece and followed him out the front door. Their footsteps disappeared around the corner of the lodge, and I assumed they were taking the broken table out back to join the chair he’d broken the day before.
Marc was hard on furniture.
“He’ll be okay,” Dr. Carver said, and I glanced up to find him watching me. “The bottom line is that you got through to her when no one else could have, and they’ll have to see that.”
“I hope so.” But I wasn’t holding my breath. Marc was right. The Alphas obviously didn’t think the ends justified my means.
A door creaked open at the back of the lodge, and the classical music ended in midnote. “—bring them in,” Uncle Rick said, and a moment later he appeared in the hall, his face a mask of anger and frustration. He stopped in the middle of the living-room floor, the tension in his expression giving way to momentary confusion. “Where are Marc and Lucas?” He paused, eyeing the newly open floor space. “And the coffee table?”
“Collateral damage.” Marc stepped into the living room from the front porch and Lucas came in behind him.
“I see.” But my uncle didn’t look like he saw.
Marc shrugged and met his gaze unflinchingly. “So…what’s going on?”