Page 88 of Pistols & Peonies

“Killed in the line of duty,” I say evenly. “They were pack enforcers.”

Her eyes widen slightly, sympathy softening her face. “When?” she whispers.

“A long time ago.” I stare past her for a second, toward the treeline on the opposite side of the lake. “Whit was still in high school. Took it hard.” I pause. “I took guardianship. Finished raising him.”

Her eyes go glassy.

“Not sure I did a very good job,” I add, almost to myself. “But he still speaks to me, so I guess I didn’t screw it up completely.”

Her fingers tighten at the nape of my neck, and the touch is unexpectedly grounding. “Why would you become an enforcer if that’s how they died?” she asks softly, brows knitting together.

“Because that’s how they died,” I answer. “If the people in charge back then did their jobs properly, then maybe they’d still be here. Someone needed to run things tighter. Make fewer mistakes, bury fewer bodies.”

She studies me in a way that feels far too perceptive, fingers toying with the hair at my nape. “So it’s not some elaborate revenge plot?” she asks lightly. “To burn it all down from the inside?”

My mouth twitches faintly. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

She glances away with a shrug, gaze skimming over the water. “I realized I don’t actually know much about you, beyond what’s on paper.”

“I thought that’s how you preferred it,” I reply, watching her closely.

Her face stays composed, but I feel it– the subtle stiffening along her spine, the shift in her breathing.

“It is,” she snaps quickly, going on the defensive.

She wriggles free of my hold before I can tighten it, slipping through my grasp with a sharp twist of her hips. The sudden absence of her heat leaves the water feeling colder as she swims for the dock, catching the edge of the wood and hauling herself up in one smooth motion.

Water streams down her back, tracing the line of her spine. Sunlight glints off her skin and catches in the curves of her hips as she stands fully upright, completely bare and unapologetic about it.

“Where are you going?” I call as she starts walking away.

“If your brother’s coming for dinner,” she tosses over her shoulder, stepping right past the pile of discarded clothes on the dock, “I need to shower and try to make myself look cute.”

I slick my hair back with a groan as she struts toward the house, hips swaying like she knows I’m watching.

I am.

Every step she takes is deliberate. She’s daring me, testing me, reminding me exactly who she is.

By the time she reaches the end of the dock and steps onto the lawn, my pulse is pounding hard enough that I can feel it in my teeth.

She knows exactly what she’s doing, and I play right into her hands, cutting through the water to climb out after her.

Whit won’t arrive for hours.

Plenty of time to remind Violet of exactly who she belongs to.

CHAPTER 29

Violet

I don’t know why I’m so nervous about meeting Kane’s brother.

I’ve fought in underground rings against men twice my size. I’ve survived being raised by a narcissist who treated love like a currency I never quite earned. Hell, I’ve stood toe-to-toe with Commander Kane– the second most feared man in our entire pack– and refused to back down.

Yet despite all that, my stomach has been one big knot of anxiety ever since he told me his brother was coming for dinner tonight, a restless hum buzzing beneath my skin like static before a lightning storm.

Maybe it’s because I’ve never been in an actual relationship long enough to meet the family. Or, because my inner wolf recognizes this for what it really is– a test I’m bound to fail. Either way, I haven’t even had time to spiral properly, let alone prepare myself for what’s sure to be a night full of awkward small talk and silent judgment.