The tension was back, clawing at Zach, tightening his chest and filling him with a nervous energy that made his leg bounce under the table. He wrapped his hand around the mug of beer, wincing at the pull of the cut on his knuckles. How the fuck had his hand gotten messed up? He didn't know, hadn't even realized it was there until after the game. Every cut and bruise had made themselves known when he was in the shower, washing up after Torresi finally finished screaming at them.

He wasn't the only one sporting souvenirs from the brawl—they all were, every single one of them. Was that why he felt the nervous energy, the build-up of tension? Maybe. It didn't make sense, he'd never felt it before, but what the fuck. Maybe this was something new.

Ben said something to him. Zach shook his head, letting him know he hadn't heard because of all the noise, then leaned over the table. Ben grinned then raised his mug in a small salute.

"I was just admiring your shiner. Very attractive."

"Yeah? Not as bad as yours."

Ben laughed then turned to say something to Travis. Zach sat back, took another swallow of beer, then glanced around. Maybe he was just imagining the tension, the edginess. Nobody else seemed to feel it, not with the way they were all laughing and carrying on. Yeah, they'd won. Yeah, it felt good. It didn't matter, they all knew that. Their season was still ending in two weeks, no matter what they did.

He looked up as Jenny approached the table, her face pale and drawn. Jason said something to Travis, tried to get him to move, but Jenny shook her head and sat in the empty chair next to Tyler.

Well damn. Maybe that was why he felt so tense. Were they finally going to come clean tonight and tell Jason they were together? Fuck, he hoped not. Not after the accusations Krasnoff had been hurling about. Did the big Russian really have compromising pictures of Jenny? Maybe. Maybe not. It would sure as hell explain why Jason and then Tyler went after him the way they did.

And it didn't matter if Krasnoff did or if he didn't. Jason might be laughing and smiling now, but Zach had no doubt that would change in the blink of an eye if he found out Tyler was seeing Jenny.

Zach leaned forward, trying to get the goalie's attention, trying to send a silent signal, a warning. But Tyler was too engrossed in whatever deep conversation the four of them were having.

Jason frowned and leaned to the side, pulling the phone from his pocket. He said something to Megan then looked down. Revulsion spread across his pale face, followed by anger. He pushed away from the table, his gaze moving from Jenny to the phone and back.

"What the fuck? What the ever-loving fuck?" Jason's bellow was choked with horror, abruptly silencing all conversation. Everyone spun around, varying degrees of surprise on their faces. All color had fled Jason's face, his mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust as he stared down at his phone.

Tyler opened his mouth, ready to say something. Zach had no idea what the goalie was getting ready to say because he stopped and yanked his own phone from his pocket. He swiped the screen, a look of pure rage crossing his face as he stared down at it.

Then Aaron's phone rang. And Zach's. Travis, Ben, Ryan, Kyle—everyone's phones were going off, a chorus of clashing rings and vibrations echoing around the table. Megan glanced around, looked back at Jason, concern blazing in her eyes.

But Jason wasn't looking at Megan. His gaze, cold and furious, was leveled on Jenny. She was staring at him, her mouth trembling, her face pale and sweaty.

And fuck, this wasn't going to be good. Zach knew it.

"How the fuck could you do this?"

"What? I—I don't know—"

"Fuck. Goddamn fucking shit—" Jason kept swearing, his gaze moving between Jenny and his phone. He shot from his chair, his scorching gaze raking everyone around them. "Nobody open their phones. Nobody even fucking look at them. The first person who tries, I swear to fuck, I will rip your fucking arms out. Hand them over, now."

Shit. A sinking feeling crashed over Zach. He didn't have to look at his phone to know. He didn't even have to guess.

Somehow, some way, Krasnoff must have gotten their numbers. And there was no doubt he'd just sent them whatever pictures he had claimed to have of Jenny.

One by one, Jason collected the phones, a deep, whimpering growl growing in his throat as he opened each one and started deleting pictures. Jenny looked on in horror, her body shaking, tears filling her eyes.

Oh fuck.

Zach shifted, ready to go over and comfort her, to tell her it was going to be okay—something Jason obviously had no intention of doing. And fuck. She was his sister. He needed to be reassuring her right now, not acting like a fucking ass.

Tyler was the one who finally leaned closer to her, who offered her the reassurance. He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her stiff body closer. He shook his head, said something Zach couldn't hear as Jenny tried to pull the phone from his hand. Tyler shook his head again and shoved the phone into his pocket, still talking to her.

Jason spun around, his eyes narrowing when he saw Tyler holding Jenny.

"Dammit! Motherfucker." Jason leaned across the table, his fists planted between the pitcher of beer and several cups. The muscle flexed in his jaw, a steady thump thump thump that matched the heavy pulse throbbing in the extended veins in his neck. "Everything the fucker said, it was true. Wasn't it? Every fucking thing. How could you do that to me?"

Zach pushed his chair back, ready to grab Jason, to pull him away and try to calm him down. He wasn't fast enough. Tyler's arm swung out, knocking Jason back.

"Get the fuck away from her."

Something flashed in Jason's eyes. Awareness. Recognition. Yeah, he'd finally figured it out. Not good—not for Jenny, not for Tyler.

Jason jerked back, anger filling his face. "You too? What the fuck, Jenny? Is there anyone you haven't—"

He never finished the words. Tyler lunged across the table, overturning it as he grabbed Jason by the throat. Cups crashed to floor. Beer flew around them, soaking pants and arms and shirts. Megan screamed as Tyler shoved Jason against the wall, actually lifting him off the floor.

"You don't talk to her like that. You got it? You don't fucking talk to her—"

Zach launched to his feet and grabbed one of Tyler's arms, trying to pull him away from Jason. He wouldn't let go, his body pinning Jason's to the wall, his forearm shoved against the other man's throat, choking him. Zach pulled again, harder, as Aaron wedged himself between the two men. His voice boomed in the odd silence around them.

"Knock it the fuck off. Now."

Tyler looked like he wasn't going to listen, looked like he was ready to throw Zach and Aaron both to the side and kill Jason. Zach moved even closer, ready to grab him again just in case. Aaron leveled a cold stare at Tyler, silently daring him to move, warning him it would be the last thing he did in a long while.

"You. Go after your girlfriend. Now."

Tyler jerked his arm from Zach's grip and spun around, panic crossing his face. Jenny was nowhere in sight. Megan motioned toward the door then hurried over to Jason as Tyler raced past her.

Jason sagged against the wall and grabbed his throat, rubbing at the red mark already forming. He draped one arm around Megan's shoulders, partially leaning against her as he sucked in gulps of air.

"What the fuck. Did you see what he did? I'll fucking kill him."

"Jason, stop it." Megan's voice was quiet, a little shaky, but no less forceful. Jason's shoulders dropped as he stared down at her.

"But he's with Jenny! You saw him! He fucking lied. Right to my face."

Zach kicked the chair next to him, sent it flying against the overturned table then rounded on Jason. "Would you knock it the fuck off?"

"What the hell—"

"Aaron's right. This isn't about you. It's about Jenny. And what that fucking asshole did to her. That's what you should be upset about."

"Upset? Yeah, I am. What the fuck was she thinking? What the hell did she think was going to happen after doing something so fucking stupid—"

Zach started to lunge toward him, ready to take up where Tyler had let off. Aaron grabbed him and held him back. Megan was already up in Jason's face, her ponytail swinging as she shoved her finger into his chest and laid into him.

Good for her. Zach's respect for Megan jumped a hundred notches.

He turned away and started helping the guys clean up the mess they'd made. Damn good thing Haley wasn't here. Not only would she have helped rip Jason a new one, she would have laid into all of them for tearing the place apart.

Not that one overturned table and a few broken glasses and some spilled beer was quite the same as tearing something apart.

And why the fuck was he still here, when he could be at Haley's right now? The edginess bit into him again, sharper this time, followed by a sense of urgency he didn't understand. He should have never come here tonight, he should have gone straight to Haley's.

He moved toward Aaron, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a couple of large bills. "Here. Put this toward the damages. I have to run."

"Where are you off to?"

"Somebody I have to see."

Aaron took the money, his brows pulled low over his eyes in a deep frown. "Everything okay?"

"No. Yeah. I mean, I think. I just need to go." He didn't wait for Aaron's response, just spun around and took off, that strange sense of urgency gripping him tighter.

Ridiculous. He was just allowing himself to get caught up in all of the night's drama. In twenty minutes, he'd be sitting on Haley's sofa and they'd be laughing about it.

He fired off a text, telling her he was on his way, and peeled out of the parking lot. Twenty minutes from now, he'd be at Haley's. That wasn't long at all.

That didn't stop him from ignoring the speed limit as he raced toward her place. And it didn't ease the urgency that grabbed him by the throat and squeezed, making it hard to breathe. He glanced down at his phone, wondering why she hadn't sent him a text back. There could be lots of reasons. The phone could be in another room. Maybe it was still on vibrate and she didn't hear it. Maybe she was in the shower. Hell, maybe she had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for him. There were lots of reasons.

And not a single one that explained the sharp panic threatening to seize him.

He turned onto her block, swore when he didn't see any parking, then gunned the engine and made a quick right. There was one space at the corner, just big enough for his truck. Who gave a fuck if it was in front of a hydrant? At best, he'd get a ticket. At worst, his truck would get towed and he'd have to pay to get it back.

He cut the engine and jumped down, slamming the door behind him. The soles of his dress shoes slapped against the cracked pavement, the sound loud to his ears, off somehow. He was running. Why the fuck was he running? He didn't need to show up at Haley's door all sweaty and breathless. Unless he could convince her to jump in the shower with him. Now there was an idea worth looking into.

Zach pushed through the downstairs door, that edginess morphing into panic and wrapping over him, made worse by the loud music echoing through the darkened stairwell. The fucking light upstairs was out again. He swore to himself and started up the steps, frowning when he noticed the thin sliver of pale light cutting through the darkness.

What the fuck? Why was her apartment door open? No way in hell would Haley leave her door open, even if she knew he was on his way up.

Zach gripped the railing and took the stairs two at a time, no longer trying to calm the irrational panic that drenched him in a cold sweat. Let Haley make fun of him, he didn't give a fuck. Laughing at him meant she was fine.

"Haley? Everything okay?" He pushed through the door and stepped inside her apartment. His skin crawled, his neck tingling at the odd silence surrounding him, out of place and just wrong, even with the music blaring downstairs.

He closed the door behind him, tilted his head and listened. Nothing. No sound of water running, no sound of anyone moving around. Just...silence.

Stark. Absolute.

What the fuck? Did she have to run out for something? But why the fuck would she leave her door open? It didn't make sense.

Zach moved deeper into the apartment, wary now, his gaze moving from left to right and back again. He turned into the kitchen and felt his heart rip from his chest.

Pieces of green ceramic littered the counter and sink. The small table was overturned, the leg of one chair shattered.

Haley was sprawled on the floor, her head wedged against the refrigerator. One pale and bloodied arm was crossed over her chest, her hand twisted at an odd angle. The other arm was splayed by her head, her elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle, her hand outstretched, like she was reaching for something. The overhead light glinted on the bloodied blade of the small knife in the corner, just out of her reach.

Blood oozed from a gash on her head, staining her temple and cheek, puddling on the floor under her. Her bottom lip was split wide open, the flesh around her mouth swollen and mottled. Her shirt was torn, splattered in blood, the same blood that streamed from the long gash running from her collarbone to the swell of one small breast.

"Fuck. Christ. Haley, no." Zach dropped to his knees, heedless of the blood soaking through his dress pants, needing only to touch Haley. To hold her. "Oh God. Sweetheart. Haley. No. No no no no."

He tried to breathe against the panic, couldn't understand why black dots flashed across his eyes. He blinked, reached for her, felt warm skin against his palm. Fuck, he couldn't see. Why the fuck couldn't he see? He needed to see, Haley needed him right now.

He kept one hand wrapped around her arm, unwilling to break the physical connection. "Haley, sweetheart. I'm here. Okay? I'm here." He reached for the counter behind him, blindly searching for something, anything. His hands closed over a towel and he stared at it for a blind second, not remembering why he needed it.

Blood. He needed to stop—

No. Stop. He needed to stop. To think. To focus. Haley needed help. Now. More help than he could give her. An ambulance. Yes, that's what she needed.

He held the towel against the gash on her chest then dragged his phone from his pocket, tried to unlock it with shaking fingers. Something smeared across the screen, making it hard to see. Blood. Oh God, blood.

Haley's blood.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He was losing it, on the verge of totally fucking losing it. He couldn't lose it. Not now. Haley needed him.

He ignored the cries surrounding him, low and guttural, like an injured animal. He had no idea where the fuck they were coming from. It didn't matter, he'd figure it out later. Haley. He needed to help Haley.

He jammed his finger against the screen, finally managing to hit 9-1-1. His voice was panicked, the words flying out too fast as he begged for help, as he stammered out the address and pleaded for them to hurry.

Zach tossed the phone to the floor, heedless of the faint voice still asking questions. He leaned closer to Haley, pressed the towel tighter against her chest, reached for her with his other hand. Touching her. Her hand. Her arm. Her shoulder. He needed to hold her, to pull her into his arms, to tell her everything was going to be okay.

But he couldn't. He couldn't hold her. Couldn't move her. She was hurt, he didn't know how bad because oh my God, fuck, there was so much fucking blood. If he moved her, he might hurt her even more.

So he just stayed where he was, kneeling by her side, those strange animal sounds still echoing around him as he waited for help to arrive.