“What are you—”

“Just do it.”

Michael doesn’t question him again. Rebel gives Zeth a steely look and follows his cousin out of the room. I feel like a hole has been punched through my chest and Zeth’s staring directly through me to the floor on the other side. I take a step forward but he holds up a hand.

“I just—I just need a minute,” he says, his voice oddly flat. He puts down the knife he’s holding, turns around and walks slowly down the length of the corridor away from me.

“Sorry,” Pippa says. “I really didn’t mean to cause more problems.” I pick up the knife and storm over to her, non-too-gently freeing her from her zip tie. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. You only told the truth.”

If that’s true, then why do you feel like utter shit right now? the Pippa voice inside my head asks. It’s just rude that I have to deal with that voice when I also have to deal with the real person looking up at me disapprovingly. “If you’re about to give me a lecture on walking away from all of this right now, please just keep it to yourself,” I snap.

“Actually, I was going to ask you what the hell you were doing standing there staring at me when you should be with him?” she says.

“What?” There’s no way I just heard her right. Absolutely no way.

She sighs, struggling to her feet. “He needs you. I’ve seen plenty of people shut down like that, and I’m telling you…he really needs you right now. I may not like it, but it’s the truth. Go.”

Zeth is sitting on his bed, the bed I slept in, with his head in his hands. The moment I see him my panic vanishes. I was nervous; I was worried about coming in here and disturbing him when he said he needed some time, but as soon as I lay eyes on him I know that Pip was right. He is not okay.

Going after Lacey will just have to wait. This isn't something that can just be put aside. This is something that needs to be dealt with now. I walk into the room and sit down beside him on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, elbows resting on knees.

“Is this about—”

“Sloane, I can't.”

His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. In the whole time I've known him, Zeth has always had a deep baritone, a rumbling timbre to his voice that's been able to shake me down to the bone, but this voice sounds like an admission of defeat. I'm not used to it; he sounds like he's beaten, and now that's what's shaking me down to the bone. “You can,” I say. “You can tell me what this is, Zeth. You need to. You may still feel like you're doing this all alone, that you are in control of everything, but you're not. I'm a part of this now. I don't know if you've noticed or not but I'm not exactly the sort of person who defers to her man in absolutely everything. I have opinions; I have feelings and I am pretty good at dealing with shitty situations. I'm a member of this team now, and you have to trust me. I've given you my trust time and time again, even perhaps when I shouldn't have. You have to do the same.” I surprise myself by how firm I sound. It's true, though. Everything I said is true, and he has to see that.

He turns his head sideways, those dark eyes of his locked onto me. They are filled with anger and doubt, but mostly they are filled with pain. “I’m not the kind of person who can do that, Sloane. I’m not that guy.”

“You've already been doing it. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet. Just because you've never been in this position before doesn't mean you’re incapable of making it work. All you have to do is tell me. Tell me why you're freaking out right now. You know I didn't want to kiss Charlie, right?”

He laughs a shaky laugh. “Yeah. You’d have to be out of your mind to wanna kiss Charlie.” He inhales and then rubs his hands over his face. “I am struggling to deal with this shit right now because you didn't want to. Because he forced you.” He turns to look at me again and I can see the well of hurt that exists inside of him. He’s breathing down his nose, his eyes so dark and severe, and I can practically feel the hatred pouring off him. It’s palpable. This anger has nothing to do with Lacey being taken now; it’s about me and what’s been done to me. “He made you bleed. I'm gonna kill him, Sloane. I'm. Gonna. Fucking. Kill. Him.”

I don't really know what to say to that. I've never been the sort of person to revel in a guy's overprotectiveness, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn’t massively relieved right now. He goes back to staring at the ground again, burning holes into the section of polished floorboards between his feet. “I'm not—this isn't easy. But my mother…” He shakes his head. Tries again. “My mother was caught up in some bad stuff. When I was a kid she used to turn tricks to make ends meet. I saw her once, some guy treating her badly, and I was too small to do anything about it at the time. But I'm not small anymore. I can take care of what is mine, Sloane. I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I'm going to get Lacey back, and I'm going to hurt that bastard for what he's done.” He stops talking, and the two of us just sit there, stewing over the words he's just said. His mother was a prostitute. I'm sure if Pippa were here right now, she'd be scribbling furiously into her notepad about his need to protect women at risk, that this has to be the reason why he helped me find Alexis. Perhaps even why he prevented a man he knew to be violent toward women from buying me the first time we met.