LOGINClinton's POV The warehouse door slams hard behind me, the sound crashing through the empty building and bouncing off the metal walls. Dust drifts from the ceiling beams. Somewhere deeper inside, water drips steadily onto concrete.I take two steps forward before stopping.Richard sits in the middle of the warehouse with one ankle resting over his knee, calm as hell, cigarette smoke curling around his face. Two huge guys stand beside him. I’ve never seen either of them before, but the second their scent hits me, I know they’re wolves. Our pack.Neither of them moves.Their shoulders look broad enough to block the damn doorway.Not nervous.Prepared.My jaw tightens slowly.Richard doesn’t grin at me.Doesn’t throw some stupid joke my way.Doesn’t even look surprised to see me here.That’s what settles wrong in my stomach first.Not the strangers.Not the warehouse.Him.“Who are they?”“My friends.”The answer almost makes me laugh.Richard doesn’t have friends. He has drinking buddi
Clinton's POV “Who was it?” I say, stepping closer. “Who picked the call?”Jack doesn’t hesitate this time. “Richard.”Everything inside me goes still in the worst possible way.I hear only my own heartbeat pounding against my chest, and even though part of me already knew that was the name coming, hearing it out loud still feels wrong somehow. My brain keeps trying to reject it, trying to force another face into place, another explanation, another person.Not Richard.Not him.Something inside me cracks quietly.My hand trembles harder inside my pocket, and I curl my fingers tighter so he won’t see it.Richard.My best friend.The idiot who stood beside me through every fight, every mess, every bloody night when the whole world felt ready to tear itself apart.The same guy I trusted with my back stabbed it.I stare at Jack without saying anything, and maybe that unsettles him more than anger would have, because he starts talking again quickly, words stumbling over each other.“That’
Clinton's POV Before I even get close to the gate, I see him.Jack.Standing there as if he belongs anywhere near my house, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes glued to the road, waiting.The moment my car comes into view, he straightens, then starts walking toward it with that same nervous energy that used to pass for confidence back then…back when I actually gave a damn about anything that came out of his mouth.I slow the car, not because I want to, but because I need a clear look at him… need to see if there’s anything that explains why he thought showing up here was a good idea.There isn’t.Same face. Same eyes. Just more fear sitting under his skin.I stop the car and step out, shutting the door with more force than necessary, and he’s already close, already opening his mouth.“Clinton, I didn’t…”My fist lands before he gets another word out.It connects clean and sharp. His head snaps to the side, his body following, knees buckling as he starts to drop…but I
Clinton's POV My legs almost give out the moment I step inside the warehouse.Derrick is lying flat on the ground, twisted in a way that tells the whole story before anyone says a word. Blood is spread out beneath him…dark, still. No movement. No fight left in him.So that’s it.All the answers I dragged myself here for… gone.I stand there, staring at him, because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to talk. He was supposed to tell me who sent him…who thought it was a good idea to come after me and drag Catherine into this mess. And now he’s just lying there, useless.Dead men don’t explain anything.Now the only person who knew… is gone.My hand curls slowly at my side, the tension building until it feels like my bones might crack under it. Then I lift my head and find Richard.He’s standing a few feet away, breathing hard. His shirt is soaked…not all of it Derrick’s blood, I can tell that much. His face is swollen, one eye nearly shut, and there’s a cut at the c
Clinton's POV I’m already on my feet before the doctor fully steps out of the ER.My chair scrapes loudly against the tiled floor, the sound cutting through the quiet hallway like something sharp and misplaced. A few people glance at me, then quickly look away, like they don’t want to get caught in whatever is written all over my face right now.I don’t care.Nothing matters except him.“How’s she?” The doctor gives a small, controlled smile. “She’ll be fine.”The words land, but they don’t settle.Will be fine.Not is fine.The difference sits heavy in my chest, twisting something deep inside me.“She just needs lots of rest,” he continues, his tone steady, professional. Like this is just another case. Another patient.I nod slowly, even though my mind is stuck on those first three words.She’ll be fine.I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. My shoulders drop slightly, but the tension doesn’t leave. Not completely. It’s still there, coiled tight under my skin.“C
Clinton's POV I stand there, staring at the closed door of her apartment.The silence on the other side feels heavier than it should.She said she wants to forget about revenge.Forget.My jaw tightens until it almost hurts.Just a few minutes ago, she was shaking…her whole body alive with aner. I saw it. I felt it. It matched what was inside me so perfectly it almost felt like we were the same person in that moment.And now… this.My fingers curl slowly into fists at my sides.Why would she change her mind like that?My mind won’t let it go. It keeps replaying her voice over and over again, like something stuck on repeat.“I just want to forget it.”Forget?How do you just forget something like that?How do you go from wanting blood to wanting peace in less than thirty minutes?It doesn’t make sense.And then there’s the part that bothers me more than I want to admit…She doesn’t even want me to get revenge for her.That thought sits wrong in my chest, heavy and uncomfortable.I dra







