He glanced down, and when he looked up again, the gold in his eyes glittered coldly. “I’m not being selfless. I don’t have that in me right now. I can’t stand the thought of living the rest of my life without you, even after all this. But it would hurt worse to wake up with you every morning for the rest of my life, knowing you regretted your decision. Knowing you settled for me.”

“I wouldn’t…” I began, but Marc cut me off with a look so fierce I lost my breath. His eyes had Shifted.

“I’m not done,” he growled; something in his throat had Shifted, too. “If I see him touch you again before you make your decision, I’ll break every motherfucking bone in his body. Or die trying. I swear I will.”

I believed him. And then we’d have two more toms out of commission, because I wasn’t the only one who’d grown up. Jace was no longer the low-ranking enforcer Marc had kicked the shit out of the summer before.

Before I could figure out how to respond, Jace thumped on the windshield, then got in the car with three bags full of stuff. He’d only been gone fifteen minutes, but had apparently bought out the entire store. Including the deli, based on the scent wafting from one of the sacks.

He tossed an exaggerated glance at the back of Marc’s head, then shot me a questioning look, silently asking me how it went. I could only shrug. We were all still breathing, and at the moment, that was all I could ask for.

Marc drove to the back of the building and parked behind the massive Dumpster, and we worked quickly, temporarily hidden from the rest of the world. Every tube of ointment and bottle of peroxide they shared came through me. I was afraid to let them have direct contact. Jace’s hair trigger was only slightly less sensitive than Marc’s, and every look he shot my way was intense. Searching.

He was afraid Marc had convinced me to get rid of him, and he was ready to fight that decision.

Jace scrubbed blood from beneath his fingernails while I cleaned the gash on Marc’s side. It probably needed stitches, but since we were in a hurry and my needlework left much to be desired, he settled for three Steri-Strips and antibiotic cream, all covered with a square of sterile gauze taped into place.

I helped him into a plain black tee, then tried not to squirm while he cleaned the cut on my cheek. It was straight and clean and shallow, and the wound had already scabbed over, so there was no need for stitches, though it would no doubt leave a thin scar. I left my cheek uncovered, because a bandage would only have drawn more attention to it.

When we were dressed, bandaged, and as clean as we could get without a shower, Marc pulled us out of the parking lot, and Jace passed out fried chicken strips, potato wedges, and bottles of water while I called to give my dad an update. We’d agreed to leave out our personal business, to keep from overloading our Alpha when he already had his hands more than full.