His eyes fell shut, his head rolled to the side, and his jaw went slack. But he was still breathing. Good.

Now that the moment was over and I’d survived—mostly intact—my aches and pains were starting to surface. My right wrist ached sharply, and my face burned like I’d been flayed alive, thanks to the knife I’d brought to the party and the salt from my own tears.

I snatched a half-used roll of duct tape from the top of a narrow entertainment center and tossed it to Jace. “Tape them up?”

In the kitchen, I pulled the last paper towel from the roll on the counter and bent to peer at my face in the dented, grease-splattered toaster. I bit back a groan and blinked away more tears. The cut was long and straight, and blood stained everything below it, including my neck and the collar of my useless shirt. I wet the paper towel at the sink and carefully wiped away most of the blood, glad to see that it had stopped flowing. Then I knelt to glance under the sink for another roll—they’d come in handy on the road. Instead, I found a small, lidless box holding several pre-filled tranquilizer syringes.

Score. I shoved all four into the pocket of my jacket.

In the living room, I found Jace standing over his newly bound brother, watching me carefully, his expression a mixture of sympathy and heart-wrenching guilt. I knew that look. He felt responsible for my cheek because he hadn’t been able to stop Dean from cutting me. I felt the same way about my cousin Abby’s rape, though I wasn’t even there when it happened. And it was even worse when I’d left Kaci with the thunderbirds, though I’d had no other choice.

“I’m fine,” I insisted before Jace could ask. He looked unconvinced but knew better than to argue.

I turned to survey the room. Alex and Lance were out cold and bound hand and foot with duct tape. Colin Dean was bleeding all over the carpet, propped against the front of the couch, his face pale from blood loss, his eyes glassy.

“Can you pull the rental around back while I find Marc?” I asked Jace. I couldn’t risk anyone from the middle building seeing me, and I was worried about Marc. If he could have helped us, he would have, especially when Dean was carving up my face.

Unless he’d heard too much.

If he knew I’d slept with Jace, would he leave us? Would he have let them kill Jace and hand me over to Malone? Would he have let Dean cut me?

No. I shook my head, trying to shake off thoughts and questions I wasn’t ready to confront. Jace dug the car keys from his pocket, but as I turned to follow him through the open kitchen door, a small glint of light drew my focus to Dean, where he still sat with one hand around the body of the folding knife protruding from his chest. The flash had come from his other hand. What the hell?