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His brows popped. “Thanks.”

With a groan, she tucked her feet up under her butt, just as she had back in the bedroom in that chair. “I’m concerned about his sight.”

Man, he wished he could rub her back. “Yeah, he doesn’t need another liability.”

“He has one already?”

“Prosthetic leg—”

“V? Mind if I talk to you for a sec?”

V’s head shot around to the doorway in from the gym. Rhage was back, still dressed in his fighting leathers. “Hey, Hollywood. What’s up?”

Jane uncurled herself. “I can go into the other—”

“Stay,” V said. None of this was going to be permanent for her, so it didn’t matter what she heard. And besides…there was a part of him—a sappy part that made him want to clap himself on the head with a liquor bottle—that wanted to milk every second he had with her.

As she settled back into place, V nodded at his brother. “Talk.”

Rhage glanced back and forth between him and Jane, his teal eyes too shrewd for V’s taste. Then the guy shrugged. “I found an incapacitated lesser tonight.”

“Incapacitated how?”

“Gutted.”

“By one of its own?”

Rhage glanced at the PT room door. “Nope.”

V looked in that direction and frowned. “Phury? Oh, come on, he would never pull any Clive Barker shit. Must have been one hell of a fight.”

“We’re talking field-dressed, V. Surgical cuts. And it’s not like the thing had swallowed the brother’s car keys and he was looking to get ’em back. I think he did it for no good reason.”

Well…shit. Among the Brotherhood, Phury was the gentleman, the noble fighter, the one who was Boy Scout–tight about things. He had all kinds of standards for himself, and honor in the combat arena was one of them, even though their enemies didn’t deserve the favor.

“I can’t believe it,” V muttered. “I mean…shit.”

Rhage took a Tootsie Pop out of his pocket, peeled off the wrapper, and pieholed the thing. “I don’t give a crap if he wants to shred those fuckers like tax returns. What I’m not into is what’s driving the behavior. If he’s knifing like that, there’s some high-level frustration going on. Plus if the reason he got cracked in the face tonight was because he was so busy playing Saw II, then it’s a safety issue.”

“You tell Wrath?”

“Not yet. I was going to talk to Z first. Assuming everything goes okay with Bella tonight at Havers’s.”

“Ah…that’s Phury’s why, then, true? Anything happens to that female or the young inside her and we’re going to have to deal with both of them like you read about.” V cursed to himself, suddenly thinking of all the pregnancies in his future. Fuck. That Primale shit was going to kill him.

Rhage bit down on the Tootsie Pop, the crunch muffled by his flawless cheek. “Phury’s got to cut that obsession with her.”

V looked down at the floor. “No doubt he would if he could.”

“Listen, I’m going to go find Z.” Rhage pulled the white stick out of his mouth and wrapped it in the purple wrapper. “You two need anything?”

V glanced at Jane. Her eyes were on Rhage and she was sizing him up as a doctor would, taking note of the composition of his body, doing his internal math in her head. Or, at least, V hoped that was what was doing. Hollywood was a good-looking bastard.

As V’s fangs throbbed in warning, he wondered if he was ever going to get his calm and cool back. It seemed like he was jealous of everything in pants with Jane around.

“No, we’re good,” he said to his brother. “Thanks, man.”

After Rhage left and closed the door, Jane shifted around on her bench, stretching her legs out. With a ridiculous surge of satisfaction, he realized they were sitting in exactly the same position.

“What’s a lesser?” she asked.

He called himself a loser as he stared at her. “An undead killer who’s trying to hunt my kind into extinction.”

“Undead?” Her forehead bunched up, as if her brain were rejecting what she’d heard. Like it was a widget that hadn’t passed quality control. “Undead how?”

“Long story.”

“We have time.”

“Not that much.” Not much at all.

“Was that what shot you?”

“Yup.”

“And what attacked Phury?”

“Yup.”

There was a long silence. “I’m glad he cut one of them