Chapter 2: The Nephew and the Beast

​"Mine."

​The word didn't just echo in the freezing car; it struck me like a physical blow. The sheer, vibrating dominance of it locked my muscles into place.

​I couldn't breathe. I couldn't blink. I just stared at the luminous, unnatural gold bleeding into his eyes through the rain-streaked glass. My mind scrambled for a rational explanation—a trick of the headlights, a reflection—but my body knew the truth. My pulse hammered a frantic, heavy rhythm against my throat, and a deep, unfamiliar ache coiled low in my stomach.

​Then, he moved.

​He didn't ask. He didn't wait for permission. His massive hand wrapped around the handle of my car door. I had locked it—I knew I had locked it—but with a single, sharp pull, the metal locking mechanism inside the door actually snapped with a loud, sickening crack.

​The door wrenched open. A blast of freezing rain swept into the cramped car, but it was entirely overpowered by the overwhelming, intoxicating scent of pine, crushed leaves, and pure, raw masculinity.

​"Get out," he commanded. His voice left absolutely no room for argument. It was a dark, rolling thunder that commanded absolute obedience.

​"I—I have a baby," I stammered, my voice trembling so badly I barely recognized it. I threw my body backward, instinctively shielding the backseat from his view, my hand gripping the cold iron of the tire tool until my knuckles ached. "Please, just leave us alone. The tow truck—"

​"There is no tow truck. The lines are down from the storm," he interrupted, his golden eyes narrowing as they flicked past my shoulder toward the backseat.

​For a fraction of a second, his massive frame went completely rigid. His nostrils flared, taking in a deep, aggressive breath of the air inside my car.

​A terrifying, thunderous darkness suddenly clouded his beautiful, rugged face. The golden hue in his eyes flared brighter, hotter, like a match struck in a pitch-black room. His massive fists clenched at his sides until his knuckles turned bone-white. When he looked back at me, the air around him felt so incredibly heavy it was actually suffocating.

​"Where is he?" he demanded. His voice dropped an octave, practically vibrating with a sudden, lethal rage.

​I blinked, freezing rain whipping into my face. "W-what?"

​"The father," he snarled, taking a half-step closer, trapping me between his massive chest and the car frame. The heat radiating off his body was scorching. He looked like he was ready to rip someone’s throat out with his bare teeth. "Where is the man who left you out in the freezing rain to die? Where is your mate?"

​Mate? The bizarre choice of word barely registered through my panic. Did he mean my husband? The sheer venom in his voice was shocking, but it was the accusation that finally broke me. The fear inside me violently collided with the suffocating grief I had been swallowing for over a month.

​Where is he? The memory of the gas explosion—the roaring flames, the smell of smoke, the deafening silence that followed when the rescue workers finally shook their heads—hit me like a physical blow. The exhaustion of the last forty-two days shattered whatever fragile composure I had left.

​"He's dead!" I screamed back, the tire iron slipping from my numb fingers to clatter against the floorboards. Hot tears of absolute frustration mixed with the freezing rain on my cheeks. "He's dead! And so is my sister!"

​The giant froze. The lethal, terrifying energy radiating off him hit an invisible brick wall.

​"He is not my son," I choked out, a ragged sob tearing through my throat. I didn't care that I was crying in front of a terrifying stranger. I was just so incredibly tired. "He is my nephew. My sister is dead. They are both dead, and Milo is all I have left! So if you're going to hurt us, just do it. But if you're not, then get out of my way so I can figure out how to keep him warm!"

​For three agonizing seconds, the only sound was the pounding rain.

​I braced myself, pulling my knees up to my chest, fully expecting this mountain of a man to drag me out of the car.

​Instead, a sharp, ragged breath hitched in his massive chest. The glowing gold vanished from his eyes, replaced instantly by a deep, earthy brown. The terrifying aura that had been crushing my lungs completely evaporated, leaving behind something thick, heavy, and undeniably protective.

​He looked at my tear-stained face, and something entirely foreign crossed his rugged features—pain. It was as if my tears were physically burning him. His hard, unforgiving jaw softened just a fraction, and his broad shoulders slumped the tiniest bit.

​"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. The gravel in his voice was completely gone, replaced by a low, soothing rumble that sent an unexpected, heated shiver straight down my spine. "But you have about ten minutes before hypothermia sets in, and the pup has less. My truck is warm. Get in."

​Pup? "I don't even know you," I whispered, wrapping my arms tight around my shivering torso. Every instinct I had as a city woman told me not to get into a vehicle with a strange man. But the way he looked at me—like I was something incredibly precious that he needed to shield from the world—was messing with my head.

​"You don't have a choice, little bird," he replied softly, stepping back to give me space. "I am the only thing keeping you from freezing to death tonight. Now, let me help you."

​I looked back at Milo. His little lips were turning a pale, terrifying shade of blue.

​Swallowing my pride and my terror, I scrambled out of the driver's seat. I reached into the back to unbuckle the car seat, but my fingers were so numb I couldn't press the release button. A frustrated sob escaped my lips.

​"Let me."

​He stepped up right behind me. His solid chest brushed against my back, radiating a heat so intense I practically melted against it. A shocking jolt of electricity sparked where our wet clothes touched, making my breath hitch loudly. Without a single word, his massive hands reached over mine. He pressed the button effortlessly, lifting Milo’s entire car seat out of the freezing Civic with one arm. He tucked it securely against his broad chest, using his own massive body to shield the baby from the driving rain.

​"Come," he instructed, his eyes dark and heavy on mine.

​I didn't argue. I practically ran to the passenger side of his massive black truck, climbing inside. The heat hit me like a physical blessing.

​A second later, he climbed into the driver's side, placing Milo’s car seat carefully in the center console between us. He unbuckled the thick straps to let the fussy baby breathe, his giant, calloused fingers surprisingly, impossibly gentle.

​The truck cab was huge, but with him in it, it felt entirely too small. He smelled like rain, woodsmoke, and a deep, grounding warmth that was making my head spin.

​"Turn up the vents," he muttered, aggressively turning the heat dial to maximum. His arm brushed my knee, and another jolt of static electricity snapped between us. We both flinched, but he recovered faster, gripping the steering wheel. "Where were you heading?"

​"Thornwood Peaks," I whispered, pulling my damp sweater tighter. "I bought an abandoned bakery on the edge of town. The Briar."

​He frowned, his dark eyebrows pulling together. "You don't belong here. The woods are full of wolves, and a rundown bakery isn't safe for a single woman."

​"I'm not afraid of the dark, Mr..." I trailed off, suddenly realizing I didn't even know his name.

​"Thorne," he said softly, putting the truck into drive. "Kaelen Thorne."

​I froze. Thorne. Like the town. Like the mountain we were currently driving on.

​Before I could process that massive piece of information, a tiny, high-pitched giggle broke the heavy tension in the truck cab.

​I looked down.

​Milo, who had been crying for the last hour, was suddenly wide awake. He had wiggled his arms out of his yellow duck fleece. With zero survival instincts and absolute baby fearlessness, Milo reached his tiny, chubby hand across the center console.

​His little fingers clamped firmly into Kaelen Thorne’s thick, dark beard.

​"Da!" Milo squealed happily, giving the facial hair a sharp, aggressive yank.

​My heart actually stopped beating. "Milo, no! Let go!" I panicked, absolutely terrified this giant, brooding man was going to snap. I frantically reached over to pry my nephew's fingers open. "I am so sorry, he doesn't know any better. No, Milo, let go of the nice man's face!"

​I waited for the growl. I waited for the anger.

​But Kaelen didn't yell. He didn't pull away or swat my hands.

​Instead, the terrifying, giant looked down at the tiny baby attached to his face. A slow, incredibly soft sigh left his lips. He lifted his massive hand, and gently—so gently it made my chest physically ache—tucked a stray, damp curl behind Milo's little ear.

​"It's fine," Kaelen murmured, his deep voice wrapping around us like a warm blanket. His brown eyes flicked up to meet mine, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corner of his lips. The sheer beauty of that tiny smile took my breath away. "Let him hold on."

​For a second, the violent storm outside completely disappeared. There was only the heat of the truck, the smell of woodsmoke, and the terrifying realization that this giant wasn't just dangerous.

​He was completely, dangerously captivating.

​Kaelen's eyes lingered on my lips for a fraction of a second too long before he looked back at the road. "I'll take you to The Briar," he said softly, the gravel returning to his voice.

​He pressed his foot on the gas, the truck surging forward into the pitch-black mountains. But as I stared out the rain-streaked window, a chilling realization crawled up my spine.

​I wasn't just driving into a secluded mountain town.

​I was driving directly into his cage.