Page 27 of Talk Howly to Me

"We'll mention we're taking some extra precautions for guest safety," Ronan replied, already working through the logistics in his mind. "No one should get too panicked about it. They'll probably even feel more secure staying here."

"You're right," Kozue agreed, his expression grim as he watched Emerson help elderly Mrs. Sanders find the perfect spot for a photograph. "We need to be on our toes. But do you think we should investigate who's after her? Who this 'employer' is?"

The question hung between them as they stared out at the waterfall, its beauty a stark contrast to the danger that had followed Sloane into their territory. Ronan's protective instincts were roaring to life, demanding action, but his strategic mind knew they needed more information before they could act effectively.

"Let's just make sure she doesn't bolt before we have that conversation with her," he said finally.

Kozue nodded grimly, and they stood in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts as the magnificent waterfall thundered before them, its pristine beauty seeming to mock the chaos that had suddenly invaded their carefully ordered world.

ELEVEN

SLOANE

Sloane was in her presidential suite, staring at the scattered clothes from the general store that she'd dumped across the king-sized bed in her haste to pack. Her hands trembled as she began to shove jeans and blouses into her worn duffel bag, the same bag that had carried her meager possessions from foster home to foster home, job to job, apartment to apartment for the past fourteen years.

The image of Ronan's transformation kept replaying in her mind like a broken film reel. One moment he'd been the composed, protective lodge manager who made her pulse race with nothing more than a touch of his hand. The next, he'd been a massive black wolf with sapphire eyes, moving with lethal precision to tear apart three grey wolves that had been stalking toward her with obvious intent to kill.

She'd never fainted in her life. Not when her mother died. Not during her worst foster placements. Not even during her most brutal underground fights. But watching reality literally shift before her eyes—seeing a man she was falling for transform into an apex predator—had been too much for her defenses to handle.

Ronan and Kozue are wolf shifters, she thought, cramming a new pair of jeans into the bag. Actual wolves who can shift into human form and back again. And I had sex with one of them.

The memory of Kozue's hands on her body, the way he'd looked at her like she was something precious and desired, now felt surreal. She'd been intimate with a creature that could tear her apart with his bare hands—or teeth and claws, depending on which form he chose.

But that wasn't what terrified her most.

What terrified her was how safe she'd felt in his arms last night. Or how right it had seemed when Ronan touched her shoulder this morning and electricity shot through her entire nervous system. Or how much she'd begun to hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd finally found a place where she could stay.

Too good to be true, she muttered, zipping the duffel bag closed with force. It was always too good to be true.

The underground fighting world had been dangerous, but it was a danger she understood. Human predators with human motivations. Money, power, fame. Simple, brutal, predictable.

This world—Hale Lodge with its warm hospitality and breathtaking views and two impossibly attractive men who made her feel things she'd never felt before—was something else entirely. A primal, supernatural danger that operated by rules she didn't know and couldn't learn fast enough to protect herself.

She slung the duffel bag over her shoulder and moved toward the suite door, her mind already calculating her next steps. She had enough cash to get to Seattle, maybe Portland. Find a new fighting circuit. Start over.

Again.

Her hand was on the doorknob when her phone rang from inside the duffel bag, and Sloane froze in her tracks. She'd completely forgotten she even owned a phone, lost as she'd been in the emotional chaos of the past two days. The sound felt foreign, intrusive, like a voice from a life she'd already decided to abandon.

She dropped the bag and dug through her clothes until her fingers found the familiar weight of her smartphone. The screen lit up with Tasha's name, and Sloane's chest tightened with unexpected relief as she answered the phone.

"Oh, thank God," Tasha's voice came through the speaker. "Are you okay? Did you find somewhere safe?"

Sloane sank onto the ground. "I'm fine. I found a safer place for a few nights, but I probably can't stay here."

"Why? If it's safe, maybe you should stay put for a while. Especially because those two men have come back. They're poking around looking for you, and they aren't too happy that we beat them up."

Ice flooded Sloane's veins. "Oh my God, Tasha, are you safe? Did they threaten you?"

"I'm fine," Tasha replied, her voice carrying that familiar calm confidence that had made Sloane trust her. "I made it very clear to them that if they kept poking around my fighting circuit, they'd find worse trouble than a bruised ego."

But Sloane could hear something underneath Tasha's casual tone—a tension that suggested the situation was more serious than she was letting on. The guilt hit her hard. By running, she'd put one of the few people she cared about in danger.

"Tasha, you aren't safe," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "Those two guys aren't just regular muscle. They're wolf shifters."

The silence on the other end of the line stretched so long that Sloane thought the call had dropped.

"Holy shit," Tasha finally breathed. "Real-life werewolves?"