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“Stop shouting,” Brody bites out. “Stop fucking shouting.”
“If you hurt her, I will kill you.”
At the sound of Jax’s voice, I start crying. “Jax,” I plead, tears streaming down my face. “Jax.”
“Brody, you fuckhead,” he bites out. “She matters to me. She’s not one of them. Give her to me now.”
Brody’s jaw trembles, and I can see the struggle in his eyes. He wants to push me. He wants to push me badly. “I didn’t knowwho my father really was until he died,” I say. “I swear to you, Brody. I’m not like him. I’ll help you.”
“Why would I believe you?” he demands.
“Because I’mnothim. Please listen. I’m not him.”
He draws in a breath and turns me, pressing me against the wall of the alcove where we stand. Jax grabs me and pulls me down to the room below, molding me close, his hand on the back of my head, his lips at my ear. “I’m so fucking sorry. So fucking sorry, baby. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I breathe out. “Yes, now I am.”
“I’m crazy about you. I am so damn crazy about you. Do not listen to anything he’s saying to you.” I sink into him, clutching at the blue jacket of his suit, holding on for dear life. I don’t want to let him go. I was so certain I would fall to my death. “Go, Emma,” he orders, his hand brushing my hair from my face as he tilts my gaze to meet his. “Go now, okay? Go back to the main room. I’ll find you.”
His emotion is a storm that thunders and roars, washing away everything but my fear for where those feelings might lead him and his brother. My cheeks are cold and hot all over but when my hand settles on his jaw, he’s fire, anger burning through him. Anger that could prove dangerous, and I force myself to calm, to calm him as well, but all I manage at first is, “He’s grieving. I know he’s grieving.” Somehow, I don’t tell him how certain I am that Brody would have pushed me, not now. “Come with me,” I add. “Come down from here with me before you talk to him.”
Brody chooses right then to interject. “That bitch needs to go now before I grab her and throw her out of here,” he snarls.
Jax is all about control. I know this about him. I’ve seen this in him, and in this moment, that control is tested. That storm inside him charges the air, and still, he kisses me before he turns me toward the exit. He steps into me, leaning in close, his lips at my ear. “I need you to leave now, Emma. Leave, baby. I’ll findyou.” The words are tender, but there’s a whip to his tone, an absoluteness to it. This is an order, a command, and when he sets me away from him, my awareness of a war between siblings that cannot be fought by another bids my compliance.
I stumble forward and exit the chapel-like room, but the minute I’m out of sight, I hear Brody demand, “Why would you bring her here?”
“This is my home,” Jax growls. “And she is my woman, and if you forget those things again, you will not be welcome here.”
I stop walking and turn around. They’re family, and as much as I hate Brody right now, I read my father’s journal. I know that he might really have taken a life, a life that meant everything to two brothers, and Jax is one of those brothers. I can’t let my family be the reason the two brothers who are left lose each other. I can’t letmebe the reason. “No,” I shout out, stepping back in the room by way of pure instinct. “He’s your brother. He’s angry and hurt, Jax. Don’t let me be the reason you two divide.”
Brody scowls at me. “We’re supposed to believe you want to save our family?” he demands, turning his attention back to Jax. “Are you fucking kidding me with this shit, man?”
“She’s not like the rest of them,” Jax says.
“The rest of them?” I ask. “You think my brother is like my father?”
“Yes,” Brody says. “He’s just like your fucking father.”
“We don’t know that,” Jax bites out.
“Fuck this bullshit,” Brody grounds out. “She helped murder our brother.” And when Brody takes a step toward me, Jax steps in front of him. In a blink, Brody is shoved against the wall next to the alcove.
“No!” I shout out, but Jax isn’t listening.
“Go now, Emma!” Jax orders. “Go!”
I inhale sharply, and I want to resist. I want to stay, but I also don’t want to make the situation worse. I think Iammaking it worse when I had the best of intentions. I do as Jax says, I rush through the room, past the stained-glass cross to my right and onward through the open doorway.
Once I’m in the hallway, I step to the wall and stay, listening. “If you ever touch her again,” Jax hisses at his brother, “I will make sure you feel pain in every way possible.”
“You’d do that over her?” Brody demands. “What is this? Are you using her to punish her family? Make this make sense to me.”
That question—is he using me—cuts and burns, and I hold my breath waiting for Jax’s reply, but I don’t have to wait long.
“I told you. She matters to me. Touch her again, and I’ll make you feel pain. And right now, you need to leave. You aren’t welcome here.”
“This is my family home, too.”
