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The Wrong Type of Free
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-06-02
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Parole is Shaw Carter’s final shot at freedom, and he doesn’t want to lose it. After a felony conviction nearly cost him everything, the path forward is narrow—keep his head down, stay out of trouble, and survive long enough to earn his life back. It would be an easy task if he wasn’t placed in the mayor’s custody, and is forced to share the same apartment with his son. Lucas Hale is everything Shaw should avoid. He’s sharp-tongued, infuriatingly composed, and far too comfortable pushing Shaw to his limits. From the very first night, it’s clear Lucas doesn’t want Shaw there. Every word that came out of Lucas' mouth was a provocation. Shaw tells himself it doesn’t matter. He can endure anything for a few months. But tension has a way of twisting. What starts as hostility quickly turns into something far more dangerous. Their fights grow closer and sharper, charged with something neither of them wants to name. Their moral lines blur. Control slips. And suddenly, the one thing Shaw can’t afford becomes the one thing he can’t stay away from. Because Lucas isn’t just getting under his skin, he’s unraveling him. But beneath the tension and the touching and everything neither of them will say out loud, Lucas is carrying a secret, one that doesn’t just connect him to Shaw’s past. It is Shaw’s past. And when the truth finally surfaces, Shaw will have to decide if the man he’s falling for is his salvation or the reason he never should have been free at all.
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The Wrong Type of Free Chapter Twenty Two
RefugeLUCAS“No.”Nico blinked. “No, what?”“Whatever you’re thinking.”“I wasn’t thinking about anything.”“That,” I said, “is a fucking lie.”Nine years of knowing this man, his thoughts revolved around two things. Cash and Dicks. Yes, plural. Dicks. Dicks from all races.No shades to any race.His smile widened. Those blue eyes—doe-soft, stupidly pretty—caught the light the way they always did. That was the first thing that had gotten me, years ago. Those eyes. I’d been nineteen and all I wanted to do was shove my dick down his throat and watch those eyes tear up.I was not nineteen anymore.I was also, apparently, not immune, because my dick is bricking up in my pants. It just clocked in my head that I haven't gotten laid in a while. That should be the vivid reason for my annoyance. I rubbed my temple, feeling my traitorous dick throb in my pants. The music from the club floor pulsed faintly through the floorboards—low and rhythmic, like a second heartbeat beneath our feet.
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-06-02The Wrong Type of Free Chapter Twenty One
Refuge LUCAS I drove fast when I was angry. Faster when I couldn’t figure out why. This afternoon was definitely the second one, which was significantly more annoying. The Bugatti tore through London like it had somewhere important to be. I didn’t, technically. But the car didn’t need to know that. The city lights smeared into gold ribbons outside the windows and I kept my foot down and my thoughts exactly where I didn’t want them — back at that garage. Back at Shaw’s face when the woman said triple my premiums like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. Which it was. That was the irritating part. I drummed my fingers against the wheel. I wasn’t the one who got rejected. I wasn’t the parolee. I wasn’t the one rebuilding from scratch with an ankle bracelet and a rap sheet and a roof that didn’t belong to him. None of that was me. I had a Bugatti and a trust fund and a father who despised me and a life that looked excellent from the outside. So why had I left
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-06-02The Wrong Type of Free Chapter Twenty
Dead EndsSHAW“He’s fit for the job.”For one stupid second, I let myself believe it.Then Mateo’s mother kept talking.“But I’m not hiring somebody on parole.”There it was. That familiar drop in my chest, the one that came every single time hope decided to show up uninvited. I should’ve stopped letting it in. It never stayed long enough to matter.Lucas frowned beside me. “Why?”She looked at him like he was asking an obvious question. With patience and looking slightly tired. She wiped grease from her hands with an old rag and said it plainly.“My insurance company doesn’t care if your friend’s trying to turn his life around. They see felony convictions and they triple my premiums.”Lowering my head, I squeezed my eyes short. This was way past her judging me. This was a fact.I stood there staring at the stained concrete floor while something hot crawled up the back of my neck. Something quieter and uglier than anger.Of course.Insurance. Background checks. Liability. Risk asses
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-06-01The Wrong Type of Free Chapter Nineteen
First ImpressionsSHAWLucas Hale’s Bugatti met my expectations, of course. I sat stiffly in the passenger seat trying very hard not to touch anything unnecessarily because every surface looked expensive enough to sue me personally if I damaged it. The leather seats were smooth black with blue stitching. The dashboard glowed softly beneath tinted glass. Even the air-conditioning smelled expensive somehow.How does air smell expensive?Rich people were terrifying.Meanwhile, Lucas looked completely at home behind the wheel like he was born inside luxury vehicles and personally breastfed by capitalism.“This car should honestly be illegal,” I muttered.Lucas smirked without taking his eyes off the road.“It practically is.”The engine purred beneath us like something alive.No, not purred.It literally growled.The Bugatti felt less like a car and more like a very wealthy predator.Lucas tapped the steering wheel lazily before suddenly accelerating hard.My entire body slammed back aga
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-05-28The Wrong Type of Free Chapter Fifteen
MeltwaterSHAWThe speed of it shocks me most.One second Lucas is submerged in freezing water looking half-dead and emotionally gutted. He’s out of the tub the next second.Water crashing everywhere.My back slammed against the wall hard enough to rattle the mirror, and his hand formed a stem arou
The Wrong Type of Free Chapter Three
The Devil makes Breakfast SHAW The knock comes at seven forty-three. I know because I’d been awake since six, staring at the ceiling with the alertness of someone whose body has forgotten how to sleep somewhere safe. “Mr. Carter?” Mrs. Able’s voice is soft through the door. “Mr. Lucas is as
The Wrong Type of Free Chapter Two
Welcome To The Family SHAW The room is too nice and that’s a problem. I’m not being ungrateful. I understand, intellectually, that a bed with actual thread count and a window that opens voluntarily is an improvement on what I’ve been sleeping on for four years. I understand this. But there’s so
The Wrong Type of Free Chapter One
The Wrong Kind of Free SHAW “We’re not fucking this up,” I said out loud to myself and the legions in my head while I stood on the mayor’s pavement with my duffel bag hanging from one fist and the weight of the parole bracelet firm on my ankle. Unlike every other blokes on parole, I got placed
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