“…how stupid do you think we are?” Alex demanded, and my racing pulse pumped blood through my body so quickly my cat vision started to go dark around the edges.

Jace’s response was too low and calm for me to make out, and I was suddenly glad I’d texted him. Otherwise, he would’ve been caught off guard by his half brother’s accusation.

“Mom may believe that, but I’m not quite so…gullible. You didn’t really think you could come spying for Sanders, then walk out of here with your face intact? Or, alive.”

“Alex…?” Jace sounded wary, then there was a solid thump behind my head as something crashed into the wall. Jace groaned.

“Pick him up,” Alex ordered.

Adrenaline spiked in my veins. That was my cue.

I glanced toward the tree line just as Marc stepped out of the woods, and I held out one palm, begging him silently to wait. If I could get Jace out without revealing Marc’s presence, I would. Besides, we stood a better chance with him as surprise backup—if they didn’t know he was there, they couldn’t defend themselves against him.

Marc shook his head, and though I couldn’t hear it, I was sure he was growling softly. Insistent, I waved him off again, and finally he nodded. But I knew that at the first sign—or sound—of trouble, he’d be at my back.

I was counting on it.

Still clutching the folding knife, I raced up the steps and threw open the back door, then stepped into a small kitchen walled with cabinets.

In the adjoining living room, Alex gaped at me in surprise, a hammer held high, ready to deliver a blow. Jace was on his knees on the worn carpet, his wrists bound at his back, the right side of his head swollen and turning purple. His eyes were unfocused, and he didn’t seem to know I was there. In the second Alex spent in shock, Jace began to tilt to the right like a felled tree. He would have fallen over if not for the grip Lance had on his arm from behind.

It took me half a second to absorb what I saw. Then I dropped the knife on the countertop and launched myself across the kitchen. I vaulted off the end of the short bar with both hands, but my left arm took the brunt of my weight, so I flew crooked. As I swung into the living room, my right foot slammed into the side of Lance’s head instead of his arm. He splayed across the couch, out cold.

Startled, Alex leaped back, and the hammer-wielding arm fell to his side.

“Jace?” I knelt by him, one eye on Alex, suddenly wishing I’d kept the knife. Jace’s head was swollen from his ear all the way into his hairline, and his skin was darkening by the second. I couldn’t tell if he had any cracked bones, but he’d been knocked silly. Almost unconscious.

He started to fall over again, and I lowered him onto his rump against an armchair—not an easy task with his ankles taped—hoping he’d come back to himself quickly. If he’d been hit with the hammer, his skull would have been caved in rather than merely bruised. So he must have been punched. Or kicked. Either way, he’d be fine.