“Thanks.”

He didn’t particularly want to park it, but if he stayed standing, he was going to want to pace and it wouldn’t be long before he tripped over something that wasn’t a toy.

Over in the corner, Z spoke softly to his daughter, the words rolling into some kind of rhythm like he was talking through a song. In reply, there were all kinds of cooing.

And then came something that sounded terrifyingly clear: “Dada.”

Wrath winced behind his wraparounds, and figured he might as well get this over with. “Beth wants me to talk to you.”

“About?”

As he imagined the Z he knew so well, he pictured the brother he’d been convinced was going to implode and take out half a dozen of them with him: skull trim, scarred face, eyes that had been black and opaque as a shark’s until Bella had come. Then they had gone yellow—at least as long as he wasn’t pissed off, and that didn’t happen anymore unless he was out in the field.

Big turnaround.

“Are you holding her?” Wrath asked.

There was a pause. “As soon as I get this bow tied in the back—hold on, girlie. Okay, up you go. She’s in a pink dress that Cormia made her by hand. I hate pink. I like it on her, though—but keep that to yourself.”

Wrath flexed his hands. “What’s it like?”

“Not totally hating pink? Pretty fuck—ehrm, frickin’ emasculating.”

“Yeah.”

“Do not tell me Lassiter’s been metrosexualizing even you. I heard he talked Manello into going for a pedicure with him—but I’m praying that’s just gossip.”

It was hard to ignore how easily the brother was talking. Like normal, really. Then again, he had his family, his shellan was safe, and he’d been disappearing into the basement with Mary on a regular basis for how long now?

Nobody knew precisely what they talked about down there. But everyone could guess.

“Actually, I don’t know why I’m here,” Wrath said roughly.

Liar.

Footfalls came forward, and then there was a regular creaking, like the male had taken a seat in a rocking chair and was going back and forth. Apparently, Nalla liked whatever positioning had occurred, the young doing more of that cooing.

A soft squeaking suggested Z had picked up another toy and was keeping her occupied.

“This about Beth spending time with Layla?”

“Am I the only person who didn’t know?”

“You don’t leave your office much.”

“One more reason not to want to have a kid.”

“So it’s true.”

Wrath bowed his head and wished his vision was working so he could pretend to inspect something. The bedspread. His boots. A watch.

“Yeah, Beth wants one.” He shook his head. “I mean, how did you do it? Getting Bella pregnant—you must have been terrified at the idea.”

“There was no planning involved. She went into her needing, and when push came to shrug … I mean, I had the drugs. I begged her to let me take care of her that way. In the end, though, I did what a male does to see his female through it. The pregnancy was rough, but the birth scared me more than anything I’ve ever been through in my life.”

And considering the guy had been a sex slave for how long? That was saying something.

“Afterward,” Z said slowly, “I didn’t sleep for a good forty-eight hours. It took that long for me to be convinced Bella wasn’t going to bleed out and Nalla was alive and going to stay that way. Hell, maybe it was more like a week.”

“Was it worth it?”

There was a long quiet, and Wrath was willing to bet his left nut the brother was staring at his daughter’s face. “I can say yes because they both survived. If that hadn’t been the case? My answer would be different—even as much as I love my daughter. Whatever, like all bonded males, Bella is the one I focus on before everything, even including my young.”

Wrath popped the knuckles of one fist. Went to work on the other hand. “I think Beth was hoping you’d change my mind.”

“I can’t do that. No one can—it’s the hard wiring of the bonded male. The one you really need to talk to is Tohr. I fell into this—and I am the luckiest bastard on the face of the planet that it happened to work. Tohr, on the other hand, he chose it. He somehow had the balls to roll the dice—even knowing the risks. And then his Wellsie died anyway.”

Abruptly, Wrath remembered going down to the training center’s office, looking for the fighter with all of the Brotherhood behind him. He had found Tohr sitting with John, a phone up to the brother’s ear, an aura of desperation marking everything from his pale face to the grip he’d had on that receiver to the way his expression had frozen as he’d looked up to find them all there, in the doorway.

Jesus Christ, it was fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Even though in the intervening time, Tohr had mated Autumn and moved on, to the extent that any male would be able to.

Wrath shook his head. “I don’t know if I can go there with the brother.”

Cue another long stretch of quiet, as if maybe Z were thinking of that night, too. But then Zsadist said softly, “He’s your brother. If he’d do it for anyone … it would be for you.”

The minute Beth walked into the mansion’s magnificent foyer, she stopped dead in her tracks.

At first, she couldn’t put a name to the splintered pile of wood that was on its side under the billiard’s room archway. But then the ragged green skin gave it away: It was the pool table. Looking like someone had had at it with a chain saw.

Going over, she peered in and felt her jaw unhinge.

Everything was trashed. From the sofas to the light fixtures, the TV to the bar.

“He’s okay,” a male voice said from behind her.

Wheeling around, she looked up into Z’s yellow eyes. In the Brother’s arms, Nalla was dressed in a darling pink dress with an empire waist and a flaring skirt she was going to grow into in a couple months. Talk about the cuteness. Little white Mary Janes flashed on her feet, and an off-center white bow tied back her multicolored curls.

Her eyes were yellow, just like her dad’s, but her smile was all Bella, wide-open, trusting, and friendly.

God, it hurt to see them. Especially as she knew the cause of the destruction in that other room.

“He called me,” she said.

“That why you came home?”

“I was going to anyway.”

Z nodded. “Good. Last night was a thing.”

“Clearly.” She glanced over her shoulder. “How did he…”

“Stop? Lassiter darted him. He went down like a stone and had a good, long nap.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to ask, but … yeah.” She rubbed her cold hands together. “Ah, do you know where he is?”

“He told me you asked him to talk to me.”

As she stared across at Z, she thought of meeting him for the first time. God, he’d been terrifying—and not just because of the scar. He’d had a glacial glare back then, as well as the kind of deadly focus that had gone straight into the center of her chest.

Now? He was like a brother to her … except when it came to Wrath. Wrath would always come first for him.

It was true for all the Brothers. And considering what Wrath had done to the game room, that was not a bad thing.

“I thought maybe it would help.” God, that seemed lame. “What I mean is—”

“He’s gone to find Tohr.”

Beth closed her eyes. After a moment, she said, “I don’t want any of this, you know. Just so we’re clear.”

“I believe that. And I don’t want this for the two of you, either.”

“Maybe we’ll figure it out.” As she turned to the stairs, a wave of exhaustion hit her like a ton of bricks. “Listen, if you see him … tell him I’ve gone up to have a shower. It was a long day for me, too.”

“You got it.”

As she passed by the Brother, she was shocked when his hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed in support.

Good Lord, if you’d told her a couple of years ago that the fighter would be offering anyone anything other than a gun to the head? NFW. And the fact that he was currently holding a total Gerber baby in his heavily muscled arm, said daughter staring up at his scarred face with absolute and total adoration?