Finally, after what felt like an eternity compressed into maybe thirty seconds, Owen leaned forward. “Zeppelin called me yesterday. Explained the situation.”
Wade blinked, thrown completely off balance. “He what?”
“Your alpha gave me the full story,” Owen continued, and something that might have been sympathy flickered across his face before the professional mask returned. “Demon debt, trap house, the gun. All of it.”
Alex made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “So you already knew. Before we even walked in here.”
“Wanted to hear it from you,” Owen said. “Make sure the stories matched up. That you weren't being coerced or covering for someone.”
Relief flooded through Wade so suddenly his knees went weak, and he was grateful to already be sitting down. Beside him, Alex had gone completely still, like his body had forgotten how to process anything except the information that maybe, possibly, he wasn't about to be arrested.
“No charges,” Owen said, and the words landed like physical things, solid and real. “This is self-defense, clear as day. Drew Crawford created the situation that led to his death. You defended yourself. Case closed.”
“Case closed,” Alex repeated, voice hollow with disbelief. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Owen stood, extending his hand across the desk. “You're free to go.”
Wade rose first, gripping the sheriff's hand in a shake that probably lasted a second too long but conveyed everything words couldn't. Thank you didn’t begin to cover it. His mate was safe, free, not going to spend the next decade or more behind bars for defending himself.
Alex stood slower, legs visibly unsteady as he reached across the desk. His handshake looked like it took every ounce of strength he had left, but he managed it.
“Thank you,” Alex said, and the two words came out thick with emotion that threatened to spill over into something neither of them probably wanted to deal with in a sheriff's office.
“Stay out of trouble,” Owen replied, and there might have been the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Getting out of the office, down the hall, through the lobby, and back into the parking lot happened in a blur. One second they were shaking Owen’s hand, the next, Wade was unlocking the truck while Alex stood beside it looking like he'd just survived something that should have killed him.
Which, in a way, he had.
* * * *
Alex headed out the back door, feet barely making a sound on the wooden deck. Sunlight filtered through the canopy overhead, dappling the yard in patches of gold and green. Perfect weather for stretching his legs, and Wade had suggested exactly that after they’d gotten back from the station.
Freedom from more than just legal troubles made Alex’s skin practically hum with anticipation. No collar meant shifting whenever he wanted, and after everything that had happened, running sounded better than therapy.
Wade followed him out, closing the door with a soft click. “Ready to burn off some energy, honey bunny?”
“Ready to leave you in my dust,” Alex shot back, though they both knew a rabbit had zero chance of outrunning a wolf in any real race. Still, talking shit was half the fun.
Walking into the forest felt like stepping into another world. Pine needles cushioned their footsteps, and the temperature dropped a few degrees under the thick canopy. Birds called overhead, probably gossiping about the two idiots about to strip naked in their territory.
At a massive oak about fifty yards from the house, Wade stopped and started unbuttoning his shirt. “This’ll do.”
Muscle rippled as the fabric lifted, revealing abs that belonged in anatomy textbooks and a trail of dark hair that disappeared into low-slung jeans. Alex’s mouth went dry. Even after everything they’d done together, the sight of Wade stripping down still scrambled his brain like eggs in a hot pan.
“Planning to stare all day or actually shift?” Wade asked, already working his belt loose. “Because if you keep looking at me like that, we’re not going running.”
“Just checking for…injuries,” Alex lied, badly, when Wade’s jeans hit the ground. Boxers followed, and suddenly there was a lot of naked wolf shifter standing in filtered sunlight like some kind of nature documentary gone pornographic.
“Eyes up here, honey bunny,” Wade said, folding his clothes into a neat pile at the base of the tree. “We’re here to run, remember?”
Right. Running. Not ogling his mate’s abs or the way muscle moved under skin when Wade stretched his arms overhead. Definitely not noticing how the sunlight caught the hair on his legs or—
“You’re one to talk.” Alex stripped off his own jeans, hyperaware of how pale and skinny he looked next to his mate’s bronzed bulk. “Pretty sure you’ve been mentally undressing me since breakfast.”
“Guilty.” Wade stepped closer, fingers trailing down Alex’s arm. “Can’t help it when you wear my shirts. Makes me want to mark you all over again.”
Alex yanked his own shirt off before his brain blue-screened. Stripping in the forest should have made him feel vulnerable, exposed, but with Wade there, it just felt natural. Like this was exactly what bodies were meant to do—exist without fabric prisons, feel air on skin, prepare to become something else entirely.
