Page 174 of The Wild Charge

“None,” Reese said. “We were just talking.”

“Talking.” He grinned: pointed canines and no humor whatsoever. “The old man said he never taught you how to talk.”

How to speak, sure. Language hadn’t escaped him. But the club, and Tenny, had taught him the art oftalking. “I learned.”

“I bet. Bet you learned lots of things.” He fell into a prowling walk, circling Reese where he hung. “They made you careless, though. YourLean Dogs.” He spat on the floor for emphasis.

“Careless?” Reese asked. “They taught me not to monologue, at least.”

He had a fraction of a second in which to congratulate himself onmonologue; it sounded like something Tenny would say in this instance, smart-assed and irreverent. He heard the whistle of the pipe through the air, and then it landed along his right kidney. He’d had enough time to tighten his core against it, but it still landed with a sickeningsmackof flesh and the subtlecrackof his lowest rib.

Reese bit his tongue and tasted blood. Pain exploded through him, the kind that swelled and grew worse as the numbing moment of impact passed.

“Don’t!” Gray shouted. “You can’t!”

“Says who?” Jax said from behind Reese, and the pipe struck again. Left kidney this time. Reese could envision the matching bruises.

He took a slow breath through his nose, teeth gritted, and pain knifed through his back, down where he knew his rib had cracked.

“Jax!” Gray shouted, and stalked forward as his brother rounded Reese and came back into view.

Jax made a frustrated sound and tried to hold him off with a raised hand, but Gray was fast. He ducked beneath his reach and took hold of the pipe with both hands. They grappled for it, shoving each other back and forth, before Jax finally overpowered his little brother and sent him sprawling back across the tiles. When he turned to Reese, it was with bared teeth, and a murderous light in his eyes.

Reese kept his own eyes open through dint of will, as the pipe arced through the air again with renewed force, and landed at his hip. His shoulder. His ribs. His knee.

It had been a long time since Hunter had last “toughened him up,” but beneath the strike of Jax’s furious hands, the years evaporated, and he was a teenager again: taking, accepting. Hunter had beaten bruises into him; had water-boarded him; had slapped his face and pulled his hair and broken his fingers in the interest of teaching him to withstand torture – teaching him to be quiet, in case he was ever captured.

Reese knew how to clench his jaw and tense his muscles and endure it.

He felt another rib crack. Felt a fat contusion flare to instant life on his knee. He stared at a place over Jax’s head, and let him tire himself out.

Gray sounded choked. “Jax, please, please! You have to stop! You can’t do this!” And then, the line that fractured something in Reese’s brain: “Jax, he’s our brother!”

Brother.

They were his brothers.

The blue eyes, the pale hair. The shapes of their noses.

Yes, his brothers.

Jax was getting tired, chest heaving. It made him reckless. He stepped in close, pipe lifted high.

That was when Reese struck. He kicked the pipe out of his hand – “What the–” – and in the same movement hooked a leg around Jax’s neck and dragged him in close. Got his throat trapped between his thighs and squeezed as hard as he could.

Jax let out a startled, choked sound, and Reese used the exhale to tighten his legs further, so tight he couldn’t draw another breath.

Gray watched, goggle-eyed and unmoving.

He’d let me do it, Reese thought.He’d let me kill him.

If he twisted his hips – God, that hurt – and managed to draw a little more strength into his torso, he might be able to torque himself around enough to snap Jax’s neck. He sucked in a shallow breath in preparation–

And pain spiked hot and sharp in his right thigh.

A knife. Jax had stabbed him.

His leg spasmed, and Jax wrenched free, panting and swearing.

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