War of Hearts

Joseph

I stormed down the hall, searching for Marco. Since Ashlyn was stashed in his bedroom, I assumed he’d be in his other favorite room in the house: the kitchen.

Her muffled sobs followed me as I raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time in my haste to escape the sound of her pain. I couldn’t do anything to make it go away. She’d made it clear that my presence only made it worse for her.

Impotent fury pounded through my veins, and I knew there was one thing I could channel it into: beating the shit out of Marco. He was the one who’d kidnapped her. He was the one who’d frightened her.

Ashlyn was gentle, fragile. She needed to be handled with care, shielded and protected. And he’d been just as brutally blunt with her as he was with everyone else.

When I raged into the kitchen, Marco turned away from the sandwich he’d been making. He didn’t appear remotely surprised when I swung at him, and he didn’t flinch away. My fist connected squarely with his jaw. Familiar pain cut into my knuckles, but it was nothing. I was used to it.

What I wasn’t used to was punching my best friend. We’d fought in the past—like brothers do—but I’d never felt this burning anger toward him before.

I pulled my next punch, but my other hand fisted in his shirt. I yanked him toward me so I could snarl in his face.

His black eyes stared at me, implacable as ever.

“Do you feel better now?” he asked coolly, not making a move to retaliate or defend himself. “Does punching me make you feel like the good guy here?”

“Fuck you,” I growled. I wasn’t used to cussing at him, either. Not in anger.

He shrugged. “I’ll give you one more shot, if it’ll help you calm down and be reasonable. You’re acting like a pissy teenager. I need you to snap out of that shit and face this like a man.”

I dropped my fist and released him, shoving him away with another curse. It didn’t feel right to hit him, especially not when he wasn’t fighting back.

“You scared her,” I said, my voice still rough with residual anger. “You made her cry.”

“She needed to know the reality of the situation. Would you prefer she hate you for kidnapping her? She has to understand the danger sh

e faces if she’s not with us.”

“I’m not the one who kidnapped her,” I flung back. “You made that decision on your own.”

His dark brows rose to his close-cropped black hair. “And if I’d told you that your father’s enemies were watching her? What would you have done?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “I would have gone back to her,” I hedged, unwilling to admit that I would have done anything to keep her safe, including taking her away from Harvard.

Marco crossed his arms over his chest. “You would have done the same thing I did. I made the choice so you didn’t have to. Now, you don’t have to feel guilty about it. She’ll come around and forgive you. I’m the bad guy here, remember?” His lips twisted slightly on the last part, but the expression was gone so quickly, I might have imagined it.

I finally shook my head, my rage draining out of me. “You did what you had to do. You did what I would have done. I didn’t know you had people watching her. If you hadn’t done that… If you hadn’t known and gotten to her in time…” I couldn’t bring myself to vocalize the horrors she might have endured. Because of me.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I never should have touched her. I should have stayed away.”

“Yes, you probably should have. But you shouldn’t have run away from New York in the first place. That was a shitty thing to do, Joseph.”

“I know.” I was surprised he hadn’t punched me for that transgression. I’d left without a word and covered my tracks. I could have been dead, for all Marco knew. I’d left my closest friend in the world hanging on to hope that I’d somehow survived the war brewing within our family. When all along, I’d been playing the part of humble bartender while I pretended Ashlyn’s safe, simple life could be mine, too.

I’d been a complete fucking idiot, deluding myself into thinking that was a remote possibility. I’d never be free from my violent world.

“I’ll never deserve her,” I said, not realizing I spoke the words aloud.

“Stop that shit right now,” Marco commanded. “I won’t stand for this lovesick drama anymore. You’re not living in a fucking fairytale, Joseph. There are no white knights and evil villains. You don’t have to be one or the other. This is the real world. It’s ugly and complicated, and it’s time you faced that reality and stopped trying to run away or deny it. You’re a hard man in a hard world. Start acting like it.”

“You mean like you act?” I shot back. “Drugging innocent women and stealing them in the night before scaring them into cooperating? I don’t want to be that kind of man, Marco. You know me better than that.”

He barely flinched as I flung the accusations at him, but that was enough to let me know I’d cut him deeply.

“And I guess you know me so well, then, if that’s what you think of me.”