Of all the fucking times in all the fucking places.

It's enough that I have all this new shit to deal with; now I can't even get to my bedroom without seeing this. Did Sienna find it absolutely necessary to pick the room right beside mine? Give me a fucking break.

"Elijah," Gage nods as he fixes his face. I'm more pissed than I have the right to be, and this is not helping. I feel my teeth clench, my whole body stiffen at his unbothered demeanour.

"Her makeup's on your mouth," I say, managing to control my voice amidst the tempest in my mind. He wipes his lips with his fingertips and looks at his hand.

"Guess I do," he shrugs and looks back up at me. I don't know if it's a challenge I see in his eyes, but I feel adrenaline penetrate my veins as if injected as my ears begin to ring. The urge to smash his face into the wall is almost unbearable.

What the fuck am I doing? This is my brother. I'd die for him in less than a heartbeat. Why am I so bothered over a woman that we agreed to share?

Because she's not just some woman, is she?

"You alright?" his voice cuts through my ringing ears, but they don't stop.

"Fine," I lie, placing my hand on my doorknob, "go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow."

I push the door open and turn away from him.

"No," he says, the command in his voice stopping me in my tracks. When I look over the shoulder at him, he's got his arms crossed, which means he's not backing away anytime soon.

"You're not my boss anymore, remember?" he adds. "We're talking this out."

Why the fuck did I ever agree to this?

"Talking what out?" my voice is starting to betray me, coming out in a snap rather than the calm inquiry I intended.

"This," he nods in my direction. "You. Me. Her. All of it."

"She's not here."

"That's fine because this doesn't involve her," he steps closer to me, "it's just about her."

I don't trust myself to say a thing as he stares me down. My adrenaline spikes again and my ringing ears begin hammering with my heartbeat as I squeeze the doorknob in my hand.

"If you want to hit me, do it," he says, calm and level-headed. I am mildly aware of how odd this looks. Elijah, the calm, calculating, patient one on the brink of losing it, and Gage, the hotheaded muscle, talking sense into him. "Whatever it takes, brother, I'm game. I'm not letting her come between us. I don't think she wants to, either."

"And you would know what she wants, wouldn't you?" my words come out before I can stop them.

"Maybe," he says, "maybe not. Maybe you know some things better than I do. But what I do know is that we are better than this. I didn't come after her yesterday, she pursued me. It was her choice. You should let her make it or ask for it yourself. If you need to blow off some steam to help with that, I'll be your punching bag."

I cock my head to the side and squint slightly. He knows perfectly well how I blow off steam, so there's no way in hell he means what he's saying. But the look in his eyes is nothing short of serious.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" my voice is low, obedient, this time. "Have you completely forgotten who you're talking to?"

"I'm talking to Elijah," he says, "the man who picked me off of the street as a kid and gave me a family. My brother. The man I would and have killed dozens for, the man whom I'd die for."

With that, my boiling rage envelops me. I barely hold on to the tether of sanity that ties me to myself when I grab his shirt and slam him into the wall. His face is set in stone, his muscles loose. He didn't even brace himself.

"Never," I say through clenched teeth, every word a torturous pain, "never imply that again. Do you fucking understand me?"

Finally, I see a flash of fear in his eyes. A cold spike grows inside me as images flash in my mind: his bloody face, eyes swollen shut, broken jaw hanging on no more than a fibrous thread of tissue, his rattling breaths as his chest laboriously rose and fell, his twisted limbs splayed out on the concrete slab like some fucked up stick figure someone drew. To imply that I would ever...

The flash of fear on my brother's face is gone, replaced with a small smile of contentment.

"It's good to know you're still in there, brother."

As my anger subsides, realization dawns on me.

"You fucking bastard," I say as I relax and step back, "never try that with me again; I'll fucking lose it."

He nods, smile gone.

"So," he asks hesitantly, "are we good?"

"We're always good," I say as I look in her bedroom's direction. "This is something I have to deal with on my own."

Tiago is right, I can't go on like this. They're not going to slow down on my account, and she won't either.

"You sure?" Gage asks, not sounding so himself.

I look at him and manage to quirk a small smile, "Hold me to it."

"I will," he nods hesitantly. "Later, then?"

"Later."

I wait until he's cleared the hall before I head back to my bedroom. I let my shoulders sag, feeling the exhaustion of the day weigh on me like a ton of bricks. Yet as I go to close the door, I am stopped by a sound. It is soft, barely audible through the thick walls, little sniffs and stifled high-pitched yelps, like someone... crying?

All thoughts of exhaustion, of Gage and the rest of my brothers, are flushed down the metaphorical pipe of my mind. My legs move on their own and, in no time, I find myself at her door, heart hammering against my chest. I can hear her clearer now, each sob like a twist of a dagger in my belly. I knock.

"I'm sleeping!" her muffled voice rings out.

"I can hear you from the hallway," I call to her, "do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine," she lies, "just got to bed, Elijah."

I feel a bitter smile creep up on my lips. Isn't this exactly what I said to Gage earlier? I can't just leave her like that. Not her.

"You don't have to talk about it, just let me in," I say, knowing it won't be that easy. Yet, to my utter surprise, the door opens a few moments later. I step into her dark room illuminated only by the moonlight through the large windows. She moves on top of the bed covers. I spot my unopened box at the foot of the bed and put it on her desk before taking its place.

She has her forehead pressed over her knees, arms wrapped around them. Soft sobs and sniffles escape her as her shoulders shake and her dark hair falls around her arms. She looks so young, so helpless. A stark contrast to the strong impression she left today. What in the hell could've brought this up?

I feel another stab of fury as I think back to a few moments ago. Gage. Of course. Not letting her come between us, huh? And this was his idea? He thought driving her to this state would make me content? I'll wipe the fucking floor with him.

I move beside her so that I'm resting my back against the headboard and spread my arms.

"Come here," I tell her. She hesitates for a moment, then swiftly curls up in my arms. I hold her warm and shaking body to mine as I stroke her hair. I feel her hot tears soak through my shirt.

"It's alright," I whisper, "let it out."

With every sob that escapes her, I think of a different method of dealing with my brother.