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pressed the fingertips of both hands to his temples. “If you don’t do it, I will. The stakes are too damn high.”
    Without even thinking about it, Mal was out of his chair, his fist slamming hard into his friend’s jaw. As a man, Liam was huge, wide and muscular compared to Mal’s lean, athletic frame. And Liam had at least forty pounds on him.
    Didn’t matter. Mal caught him unaware and sent him stumbling backward, then fisted his hand in the collar of Liam’s shirt and yanked him back. “Do not even think of going there.”
    Liam said nothing, but Mal could feel the tension in his friend as Liam held back, forcing himself to stay still. Mal wished he wouldn’t. He wanted Liam to let go. Goddammit, right then he wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of somebody. Anybody.
    “Mal!”
    He looked up to see Callie across the room, her green eyes seeming even wider with her blond hair pulled back into an elegant knot, and Raine moving fast toward them.
    “Back it off, buddy,” Raine said. His tight expression, sleeves of tats, and close-shaved head would have made him seem dangerous if Mal didn’t know him so well. Then again, Raine was dangerous. Just not to the brotherhood.
    “ No ,” Liam said, his eyes never leaving Mal’s face. “You need to do it, then do it. Take a swing at me. Beat me to a bloody pulp. Do whatever you have to, but get it out of your goddamn system. Because you know I’m right, Mal.”
    Time seemed to stop as Mal stood there, his hand still locked on Liam’s shirt. Beside him, Raine stood poised to intervene, clearly torn, not sure if he should be pulling Mal back or following Liam’s lead and just letting this little drama play out.
    And across the room, Callie watched all three of them, her lovely face awash in horror and confusion.
    “Goddammit.” Anguish flooded him, and Mal dropped his hand, releasing Liam.
    Once more, he sank back into the chair, then covered his face with his hands and told himself that the only thing he needed to do in that moment was remember to breathe.
    “She’s back,” Raine said. It wasn’t a question, and Mal didn’t answer.
    “Who?” Callie’s voice was soft and near.
    “Christina.”
    “Oh, Mal.” Sorrow filled her voice. “I’m so sorry.”
    He looked up. Raine had taken the chair beside Mal, and he held out his hand for Callie, who settled in his lap.
    “You told her?” he asked Raine, then sighed as his friend nodded. “Do you remember Christina?” he asked the Callie.
    Callie shook her head. “It’s not like that. I know there’s part of Livia inside me, but it’s not memories so much as feelings.” She looked between the men. “Isn’t it that way for her, too?”
    “Christina never remembers a thing,” Liam said.
    “No.” Mal met Liam’s eyes. “This time, she remembered.”
    “What?” He could hear the shock in Liam’s voice.
    “Jesus, Mal,” Raine said.
    “Wait.” Callie looked between the three men. “I’m a little behind the curve here. She remembers you? How do you know?”
    Mal hesitated, but he knew he had to come clean. He looked from Raine to Liam. “I went to her. When I felt her presence, I went to her, just like I always have. And dammit, I had every intention of—” He closed his eyes. “She said my name.” He drew in a breath. “I touched her, Li. I held her. I—”
    He cut himself off, remembering. God, he’d taken her in a fucking alley. After so long, and that was how he’d touched her, how he’d claimed her? She deserved so much more, but he hadn’t been able to hold back.
    For that matter, she hadn’t been able to either, and the memory brought a hint of a smile to his lips. At least she’d been as crazed as he had. And seeing that—finally having proof that she was still herself even inside this new body, that she was still his—had both ripped him to shreds and given him hope.
    Right now, it was that hope to which he clung so desperately.
    He looked at his friends.