I thought she was just skittish. I didn’t know she was conditioned to expect pain.
“Where is he?” I ask, my voice sounding like ground glass.
“Inside,” Dorian says, nodding toward the glass doors. “Giving a statement. But we can’t hold him. Not without a formal complaint, and she... well, you know her history with reporting. She’s terrified of the system.”
A uniformed officer pushes open the heavy door. “Ms. Carter? That’s it for today. We’ll call you if we need any more information.”
Amber pulls away from Eli. Her face is pale, her eyes rimmed in red, but she stands straight.
She doesn’t look weak. She looks like someone who has survived a hundred storms and knows another one is coming.
“I need to go home,” she says, her voice carrying over the wind. “I need to be with Maisie. With my family.”
“Yes,” I agree immediately. “We take you there.”
“I’ll drive her home,” Jude says, stepping away from the mayor. “Ryker, you follow us?”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Ryker grunts, though there is no humor in it. He looks like he wants to punch something.
We move as a unit toward the cars. Maisie runs to Amber, hugging her legs. Amber picks her up, burying her face in her daughter’s hair for a second.
The sight breaks something in my chest.
“I’ll follow in my truck,” I tell Jude.
“Knox, go home,” Amber says, looking at me from over Jude’s shoulder. “Please. Take the guys. Rest. I... I can’t do this right now. I need to just be Maisie’s mom tonight.”
I want to argue. Every protective instinct I have screams to stay within ten feet of her. But I see the plea in her eyes.
She needs to be the protector right now. She needs to hold her daughter without an audience.
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll be there. In the morning.”
“Promise?”
“Oui.I promise.”
I watch them drive away, Jude’s taillights disappearing into the snowy dark. I stand there for a long moment, the cold seeping into my bones.
The birthday plans we made—the dinner, the cake, the surprise—feel foolish now. Trivial. Until we’re back in the safety of our own space, until we know she’s truly safe, celebrating anything feels wrong.
“Let’s go,” I say to Eli and Fallon.
We drive back to the warehouse in silence. No music. No jokes. Just the hum of the tires on the slush.
My mind races, spinning in circles. What is Luke’s endgame? Is he trying to reclaim her? Is he trying to destroy her new life?
The ambiguity hangs over us like a storm cloud.
When we walk inside, the space feels different. It feels like a house under siege. The lock on the door doesn’t feel like a barrier but like a challenge.
“I need a drink,” Fallon says, tossing his keys on the counter.
“We need to talk,” I correct. I walk to the living area and strip off my suit jacket. The tie feels like a noose. I unbutton the collar, tossing it aside.
Eli and Fallon sit on the sofa. I pace in front of the fireplace.
“We’re in love with her,” I say. The words hang in the air, heavy and absolute. “It’s not just attraction anymore. It’s not just the pack dynamic. I love her. And I know you two do as well.”
