A Special Kind of Stupid

At 5:30 AM, the rain stopped, leaving the city dripping and wet. I drove back to the garage.

As I pulled into the gravel lot, the silver SUV was no longer a block away. It was parked directly across from the gate, its engine idling. The "Shadow", the contractor my father had hired, was standing by the driver’s side door. He was no longer trying to be undercover. He was wearing a tactical vest, and his hand was resting openly on the grip of a sidearm.

I stepped out of the Corolla, my legs shaking.

"Miss Thorne," the man said.

"Don't go in there."

"My name is Eloise Miller," I said, my voice surprisingly cold.

"And you’re trespassing on private property, Mr...?"

"The name’s Miller, too. Call me Saul. I’ve been doing this for thirty years, kid. I’ve seen gangs, I’ve seen cartels, and I’ve seen cults. But what happened in that building last night... that wasn't human. The sounds coming through those walls? The way the structure was shaking? You’re in over your head."

"It was a storm, Saul. High winds, old metal, and a transformer blowing. If you’re so worried, tell my father I’m fine and go get a coffee."

Saul stepped toward me, his eyes narrowing.

"I saw a figure through the high glass, Eloise. It was seven feet tall and covered in hair. I’m reporting this to your father’s primary security team. We’re doing an extraction. Five minutes."

Panic flared in my chest.

"If you call them," I said, stepping right into his space,

"I will tell the police you kidnapped me. I will tell the press that Harrison Thorne is using illegal private soldiers to stalk his daughter. My father values his reputation more than my safety, Saul. Do you really want to be the reason he ends up on the evening news?"

Saul froze. He looked at me, really looked at me, and for the first time, he didn't see a spoiled heiress. He saw a Thorne. He saw the same ruthless calculation that lived in my father’s eyes.

"You're protecting them," he whispered, horrified.

"You're protecting whatever is in that garage."

"I’m protecting my life," I snapped.

"Now sit in your car and stay there. If I don't come out by noon, call the National Guard for all I care. But until then, you stay silent."

I didn't wait for his answer. I turned and walked through the gate.

The garage was a wreck. Several of the industrial lights had been torn from the ceiling, dangling by wires that hissed with dead current.

I walked toward the back. The red door was hanging off one hinge. I stepped over the debris and into the rear bay.

Vane was sitting on a crate, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looked ten years older. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot, and he was stitching a long, gushing wound in his own forearm with a curved needle and fishing line. He didn't look up as I entered.

"You're a special kind of stupid, aren't you?" Vane said.

"The Shadow is still outside," I said, ignoring the insult.

"He saw things, Vane. I bought us some time, but he’s suspicious. If he sees you like this—"

"He won't," Vane cut me off.

"Jax is already cleaning the perimeter. We’ve been hiding in plain sight for three years, Miller. We know how to scrub a crime scene."

"Where is he?" I asked.

Vane gestured with his chin toward the loft stairs.

"He’s in a bad way. The first shift after a full moon during a storm... And having you here? Having your scent in the room while the beast was trying to take the wheel? You almost got us all killed."

"I stayed because I wanted to know," I said.

"And now I do."

I walked up the stairs to the loft. The door was open. The air inside the small living space was hot and heavy. Cane was lying on a low bed, his chest bare, his breathing steady. He was covered in sweat and full of scars and scratches.

He didn't move as I approached, but I saw his nostrils flare. He knew I was there.

"Get out, Eloise," he murmured.

"No."

I sat on the edge of the bed. He flinched, but he didn't pull away. I reached out, my fingers trembling, and touched the scar on his shoulder.

Cane opened his eyes. The amber was gone, replaced by a deep brown, but the intensity was the same. He looked at me with a vulnerability that hit me hard.

"I almost killed you," he whispered.

"In the bay... I was an inch from your throat. I could smell your pulse. I could taste your fear. It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever known."

"But you didn't," I said.

"You hit the wall instead. You broke the bricks, Cane. You chose not to hurt me."

Cane let out a shaky, self-loathing laugh.

"That wasn't a choice. It was a war. And I’m losing it. Every time I’m near you, the beast gets louder. It doesn't want to just protect you; it wants to claim you. It wants to tear the 'Thorne' right out of your blood."

He sat up, the movement clearly agonizing. He grabbed my wrist; his grip was human now, but still possessed a terrifying strength, and pulled me closer. Our faces were inches apart.

"Your father sent a killer to watch you," Cane said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble.

"That man outside? He knows what we are. He’s going to tell the world, and my pack will be hunted. I should kill him. I should walk out that gate right now and end it."

"No," I said, my heart racing.

"I can handle Saul. I can handle my father. I’m the 'Human Link,' remember? That’s why you hired me."

"I hired you because I was a fool who thought I could control the hunger," Cane growled.

He leaned in, his lips on mine. It wasn't the desperate, claiming kiss from the breakroom. It was something else, a plea.

"Go home, Eloise. Take the Bugatti, take the penthouse, and forget the smell of this place. If you stay, you aren't just a receptionist. You’re part of the pack. And the pack is always hunted."

I looked at him, the scars, the strength, the ancient secret burning in his eyes. I thought about Isabelle’s betrayal, my father’s coldness, and the empty and lonely world I had left behind.

"The Bugatti is a wreck," I said, a small, defiant smile playing on my lips.

"And I don't like the penthouse. It’s too quiet."

I leaned forward and kissed him, a slow, deep seal of a new contract. For a second, Cane froze, his body stiff as he fought the instinct to push me away for my own safety. Then, with a groan, he surrendered. He pulled me into his arms.

"God help us," he whispered against my skin.