He left the shower, dropping his wet clothes on the floor and tying a towel around his waist as he walked back into his bedroom. I left my clothes there and walked out, too, throwing Will’s hand off when he tried to grab me.

I wasn’t mad. I didn’t know what was wrong.

I just wanted to get dressed now.

Wrapping myself in a towel, I left the bathroom and walked for the door, but Aydin’s voice stopped me.

“Emory, come here,” he said.

I looked over, seeing him just inside his closet, pulling clothes off the shelves.

He tossed me some red boxers and a black T-shirt, and I caught them, lamenting the loss of my bra on the shower floor now.

The water stopped running, and Will and Alex walked out of the bathroom, wary with their eyes on me.

Will’s eyes dropped to the items in my hands and then back up to me. “Come here,” he ordered.

I darted my eyes to Aydin without even thinking.

“Don’t look at him.” Will scowled at me.

But I remained rooted, hearing Aydin’s calm voice.

“Do what you want, Emory,” he told me. “It’s okay.”

My heart splintered a little more, and I looked away, shaking my head. What I would have given for Will to say that just once. Or my brother.

Someone to guide me. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it from my life since my parents were gone.

If Will or Martin had given me freedom, I would’ve wanted them more. That was all he had to do. He just had to let me come to him. Like the Homecoming dance.

It just took me longer to figure things out. I didn’t dive into anything head first. Aydin seemed to know that.

Had to hand it to him… I understood why he was the alpha now.

“Emory…” Will said.

I didn’t move.

Aydin dressed, and I clutched the clothes, my legs charged to just head back to my room.

“Em…” he said again in a lower voice.

Tears filled my eyes, and I heard a quiet chuckle come from Aydin. “Micah and Rory are drunk by now,” he told Will, “and you’re going to leave without the only thing you want.”

Me.

Aydin pulled his T-shirt over his head and met my eyes. “You happened to him.”

Nothing happened to me. I wasn’t a victim, and this was the last time I’d hesitate.

I pulled on the shorts and rolled them over a couple of times, and Aydin walked out of the room as Will’s eyes bore a hole in my back. I didn’t even have my shirt on yet before Will charged out of the room, slamming the door against the wall on his way, and I whipped my head around, looking at Alex.

A crash hit the floor downstairs, and a moment passed before she shot off, running after them.

I threw on my T-shirt, pulled off the towel, and flipped my wet hair back out of my face as I ran out of the room. I looked left and right, not seeing anything, but a scuffle hit my ears, and I leaned over the balcony, seeing Aydin with Will in a headlock on the floor of the foyer.

Shit.

Alex rushed in, but Will shot out his hand. “Don’t,” he yelled. “Stay back.”

She halted, and I hurried down the stairs as Will and Aydin rolled over on the floor, Aydin strangling him, and Will struggling for air.

“Stop!” I shouted.

Will laid on top of Aydin and threw his head back, trying to hit Aydin with the back of his skull, but the other man jerked out of the way just in time. They both scrambled, their dark hair wet and messy as Will flipped over and tried to get a hold of Aydin’s neck.

They shot out their legs, tumbling to the side, and the candelabra toppled over, the candles rolling to the edges of the room.

The men wrestled, and I shot my hands to my hair, trying to figure out what to do. Will could wrestle. What was going on?

And if he couldn’t beat Aydin, why had he gone after him?

Enough. They were both getting locked in the cellar tonight.

I ran into the drawing room and pulled the longarm off the wall—an antique from World War I, it looked like—and dashed back into the foyer, stepping in and kicking Aydin off Will.

He fell back to the floor, but before he could dive back in, I pointed the gun, the bayonet pointing right as his neck.

“Enough!” I yelled.

I’d forgotten my glasses in the shower, but I could see Aydin’s cocked eyebrow well enough.

Will shot off the floor, coming for him again, but Alex grabbed him by the jeans and smacked him over the head.

I fought not to laugh, because that’s how funny all of this was.

Grown men…

I didn’t have time do more, though. Taylor, Micah, and Rory arrived on the scene, wet from the pool and their eyes darting between all of us.

Taylor’s gaze finally settled on me with the gun pointed at Aydin, and in a blur, it all happened.

Will charged for Taylor, Aydin scurried off the floor and threw himself at Will, and the next thing I knew, Taylor had grabbed the gun, ripped it out of my hands, tossed it, and gripped the back of my head with one hand and threw a punch into my stomach with the other.

My insides tried to push through my spine, vomit rose up my throat, and I coughed, dropping to my knees.

Tears filled my eyes as everyone, blurry in front of me, scrambled to separate Will and Aydin. Taylor lifted me up and slammed me against the staircase, squeezing my jaw between his fingers and hovering over me.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he gritted.

My body wracked with pain, and I sucked in air, trying to catch my breath as the inside of my mouth cut on my teeth.

But he was pulled away, someone grabbing his hand, bending his finger back, and bringing him to his knees as he cried out. I blinked, gasping as Aydin grabbed the gun, propped it up on the floor for leverage, and shot the bayonet down, slicing off Taylor’s pinky finger.

I widened my eyes as blood spurted, spilling onto the marble, and everyone stopped, their attention caught now.

Taylor screamed, but Aydin didn’t waste any time. He hauled him up, threw him over his shoulder, and headed for the back of the house.

“Bring Will, too!” he shouted.

Huh?

I looked between Rory and Micah, who both looked unsure, but then Rory gritted his teeth and moved first, grabbing Will.

“No!” Alex and I shot forward, reacting, but Micah pushed us back, protecting Rory.

What the hell?

Micah helped him, both of them force-walking Will and following Aydin as Alex and I trailed. I grabbed the gun on my way, sweat coating my body as I watched Alex swipe a candlestick. We were both armed now, a trickle of blood gliding down my blade, and Taylor’s finger on the floor somewhere.

Why had Aydin done that? Taylor was his lapdog.

“Aydin, please,” I begged.

Where was he taking them?

He opened the door to the cellar, descended the stairs with the boys, and we chased, jogging down the stone steps to see them throwing Will on the ground as Aydin tied up Taylor’s wrists and slung them over a hook above his head. Blood poured down his arm, and he breathed hard, his face twisted in pain.

Next, he moved to Will, but shot a glance to us. “Hold them!” he ordered Micah and Rory.

“No!” We raised our weapons, and they stopped in front of us, the confrontation at a stand-still as Aydin squatted next to Will.

He laid there, blood dripping off the corner of his mouth, his eyes cast down, and making no move to fight more.