LOGINLana's POV For a heartbeat, the world consisted only of the shock of seeing him there, solid and real in the middle of the sterile apartment, and the primal relief that surged through me before cold dread could snuff it out. He was here. He’d come. The text I’d sent last night, he’s not safe had been a flare shot into the dark, and he’d tracked it right to the source. But his presence was a lit match in a room soaked in gasoline. Bastien could return any minute. “What are you doing here?” I breathed, shutting the door quickly behind me, as if I could contain the explosion. “You sent a message,” he said, his voice that low, gravelly tone that bypassed my ears and vibrated straight into my bones. His gaze was a physical touch, scanning me, diagnosing the damage I tried to hide. “It didn’t require a reply. It required a response.” “I’m fine,” I said, the automatic lie. I crossed my arms, tucking my bruised wrist tighter against my body. “Everything is fine. You shouldn’t be here.”
Lana's POV Bastien was the real psycho among his brothers. The shift in him was instantaneous and absolute. The raw, murderous promise in his eyes, the crushing pressure on my wrist wasn’t the Bastien I knew. It was someone, something else, wearing his face, speaking with his voice. A stranger built from jealousy, fear, and a possessiveness that had curdled into something dark and feral. The shock was a physical coldness, dousing the fiery anger his words had sparked. In that moment, I wasn’t his partner, his charge, or even the catalyst. I was prey. Prey that had dared to snarl, and the predator had finally shown its teeth. All the fight drained out of me, replaced by a survival instinct so sharp it felt like a blade in my own chest. I stopped pulling against his grip. I went perfectly still. “Yes,” I whispered, the word tasting like surrender and bile. “I understand.” His grip didn’t loosen, but the terrifying intensity in his eyes flickered, satisfaction mingling with the li
Lana's POV Long story short, It was a dumb move. The antiseptic smell of the hospital was a slap after the serene, shattered remains of the restaurant. Time had blurred into a nightmare of flashing lights, urgent voices, and the sterile glare of the ER. Maison, pale and unconscious on a gurney, being wheeled away. Me, covered in flecks of his blood, giving a hollow, evasive statement to bewildered police officers. A disagreement got out of hand. Yes, I knew both men. No, I didn’t want to press charges. The last part was a lie that tasted like ash, but the truth that my werewolf boyfriend broke my human boss’s ribs because he’s jealous wasn’t an option. Now, in the quiet, private room, the only sounds were the steady beep of the heart monitor and the low hum of the city through the window. Maison slept, his face a landscape of bruises, dark purple blooms under his eyes, along his jaw, where Bastien’s grip had been. His nose was taped. His torso was wrapped tight. They’d set the rib
Lana's POV The two words glowed on my screen, a demand in the dark. Where are you? Ronan. Of course he knew something was wrong. The bond, that cursed, silent tether, must have thrummed with my panic, my flight. My thumb hovered, trembling. A part of me, the tired, bruised part, wanted to tell him everything. To scream into the phone that his brother had broken the last fragile piece of my new world. But that would be pouring blood into shark-infested waters. It would bring him here, a tornado of fury and possession, and the fragile, sterile peace of Maison’s fortress would shatter. I typed back, my fingers cold. I’m safe. I need space. The phone rang instantly, his face flashing on the screen. I hit ‘decline’ and set the phone to ‘Do Not Disturb,’ placing it face down on the nightstand. The vibration as it rang again was a dull, angry buzz against the wood. Then again. And again. He wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t. I pulled a pillow over my head, blocking out the phantom buzzing, th
Lana's POV The sound of his voice, so collected and unsurprised, was both a relief and a new kind of terror. I had just thrown a lit match into the powder keg of my life. “I… I need…” My voice cracked, the brave front I’d mustered for Bastien completely gone, leaving only a raw, shaky wreck. “Is your offer for a place to talk… is it still open?” There was the briefest pause, not of hesitation, but of assessment. “Where are you?” he asked, his tone shifting from casual to operational. “Home. My apartment. But I can’t stay here.” “Are you in immediate danger?”The question was clean, direct. “No.Not… not physical danger.” The emotional danger felt just as lethal. “Give me the address. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Can you get out of the building without confrontation?” “I think so. He’s… in the living room.” “Good.Text me the address. Walk out. Go to the corner of your block. I’ll find you.” The line went dead. The efficiency of it cut through my panic. He wasn’t asking wh
Lana's POV The scene in my kitchen, once a place of tentative peace, now felt like a staged tableau of the deepest betrayal. The air, which had been buzzing with their shared laughter, turned brittle and sharp as spun glass. I stood in the doorway, my keys digging into my palm, my heart a cold, hard stone in my chest. Bastien’s relaxed posture stiffened. Chloe’s smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like guilt. “Lana,” Bastien began, his voice a study in forced casualness. “You’re home early. Chloe just stopped by to drop off some files you left at your desk.” He gestured vaguely toward a manila folder on the counter I hadn’t noticed. The lie was so flimsy it was insulting. I looked from the folder to Chloe’s wine glass, nearly empty. “You drove across the city after work, without calling or texting me, to drop off a folder that could have waited until tomorrow? And you just happened to have a glass of our Pinot Noir while you were at it?” My







