Page 19 of Wraith’s Betrayal

Through the door, I heard his voice. Reasonable. Calm. The tone predators used when they had their prey cornered.

"We're just talking, baby. No need to be dramatic."

Raven's response was too quiet to hear, but I caught the tremor in it. The barely controlled panic of someone trying not to escalate.

I pushed the door open, taking in everything in a tactical sweep. Derek had her in the corner by the window—my window, in my space—using his body to cage her without actually touching. Classic intimidation positioning. Making her feel trapped while maintaining plausible deniability.

Raven's back pressed against the wall, arms wrapped around herself, making herself smaller. But her eyes—when they found mine over Derek's shoulder—blazed with relief mixed with fury.

"Everything alright?" I kept my voice conversational, moving into the room with practiced ease.

Derek turned, designer suit impeccable despite the conversation he'd had with Viper earlier. "You must be the roommate. We were just discussing⁠—"

"No." Raven's voice came stronger now that I was here. "We weren't discussing anything. You forced your way in.”

I moved between them, forcing Derek to step back. "No, it wasn't.

Derek's manufactured smile faltered. "I don't know what you're implying⁠—"

"I'm not implying anything." I matched his reasonable tone. "I'm stating facts. You broke into my home. You're threatening my woman. And now you're going to leave."

"Your woman?" He laughed, the sound sharp and ugly. "She's nothing. A chunky little secretary who should be grateful for any attention⁠—"

The words cut off as my hand closed around his throat. Not tight enough to crush his windpipe—yet—but enough to communicate intent.

"Let me explain something." My voice dropped to battlefield quiet. "Raven Beckett is under my protection. Mine. The club's. This entire town's. You've already been warned once today. This is your final chance to leave breathing."

His hands came up, clawing at my grip, but twenty years of military training against a soft trust fund baby wasn't even a contest. When he reached for something in his jacket—knife, based on the movement pattern—I released his throat only to drive my knee into his solar plexus.

He dropped, gasping. The knife clattered across my floor.

"Please—" he wheezed.

I grabbed his expensive collar, hauling him up and slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack the drywall. His nose broke under my fist—once for entering my home, twice for threatening Raven, three times because I enjoyed watching his entitled face crumble.

"Stop!" Raven's voice cut through the haze. "Wraith, enough. He's done."

I froze, fist drawn back for another strike. Derek sagged in my grip, blood streaming from his ruined nose, designer suit destroyed. One eye already swelling shut.

"He's done," she repeated, softer. "Let him go."

The gentleness in her voice reached through the rage. I released him, letting him slide down the wall into a pathetic heap.

"You're insane," he slurred through blood and what sounded like broken teeth. "I'll have you arrested⁠—"

"No, you won't." I crouched beside him, voice conversational again. "You'll leave Pike Creek. Tonight. And if you ever contact Raven again, if you even think about her, they'll never find your body. The mountains here are vast, and I know every hidden canyon from my time training at Fort Harrison. Understand?"

He nodded frantically, scrambling toward the door on hands and knees. Pride forgotten, threats abandoned, just desperate to escape.

The door slammed behind him, leaving us in sudden silence.

Raven stood frozen against the wall where he'd trapped her, arms still wrapped around herself, trembling. Not from fear anymore—from rage and adrenaline crash and the aftermath of watching violence committed for her protection.

"I'm sorry you had to see⁠—"

She launched herself at me.

Her mouth crashed into mine, desperate and hungry and alive. Hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer, needing proof we'd both survived. I tried to be gentle, aware of what she'd just experienced, but she wasn't having it.