Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
“She knew Dove was too young to hold that information.” His jaw hardens. “One slip from an eight-year-old’s mouth…”
“Exactly.”
“So she put it on you. Made you carry it.”
“She was the only mother I knew.” I release a shuddery breath. “I loved her. So I promised to keep her secret, never go to the cops, and never tell Dove.”
“Of course, you kept that promise, you loyal asshole. And that loyalty almost killed you. More than once. I’m pissed she put you in that position. You were fucking sixteen.”
“Celeste was only six years older than me. Practically a kid herself.”
“Does Dove know how young she was?”
“No. She doesn’t remember.” My chest constricts. “All those years in our cardboard forts and tents, moving from place to place, Dove never stopped asking about our parents. She wanted descriptions, stories, any scrap I would throw her. I was so afraid I would slip and reveal too much or say something she would piece together later. So I gave her nothing.”
“You have to tell her.”
“I know. I will.”
“Wow. That explains… Way too much.” He makes a humming sound. “So let me get this straight. Crowe sent a hitman to take out your whole family, but he didn’t count on you, a sixteen-year-old kid, escaping with Dove.”
“Dove wasn’t part of the hit that night.”
“She was supposed to be taken alive? To be trafficked? His own daughter?”
“Yeah. He hunted her for the next couple of years, but as I honed my hacking skills and Dove grew older, I became his target.”
“And Dove was the leverage.”
“Yes.”
“You said she’s safe.” He eases back into me. “I’m taking you at your word and staking everything I am on it.”
“She’s safe.”
Adrian Crowe is dead. House of Crowe will follow. But I’m not finished.
I don’t want him gone. I want him exposed on the world stage. Him and every fixer, buyer, and polished monster who fed at his table. I want the money trails lit up, the shell companies cracked, and the quiet men who signed checks and looked away dragged into daylight where they can’t hide behind titles or philanthropy.
I’ll plan it properly, use the cartel, and hunt every Crowe associate, every predator who trafficked flesh through him, every coward who profited from silence.
Then I’ll end them.
This isn’t revenge anymore. It’s cleanup.
But for now, I keep my arm around Wolf and let the past settle where it belongs, spoken but not forgiven.
Wolf’s heavy frame grows even heavier against me, the sharp edges of him softening as sleep takes hold. His head rests solid against my chest, his body slack with trust, every exhale slow and even.
I hold completely still, worried any sudden movement might wake him and break whatever fragile truce his nervous system just signed.
I’ve been alone a long time. Long enough that sharing space like this feels foreign and dangerous. My body remembers holding Dove this way, her tiny hands, the soft silk of her hair, and the adoring way she looked at me. That memory stings, but it doesn’t hurt the way I expect.
Because this is different.
This is Wolf, choosing to rest against me without question.
The feeling settles into my circulation, quiet and earned. I didn’t realize how starved I was for this simple thing, another human trusting me with their unconsciousness, their vulnerability.
I’ve never had a partner. No girlfriend. No boyfriend. Sex has always been a transaction, a source of income, leverage, or a role to play and discard. I know how to perform, and I know how to be a protector for Dove. I don’t know how to belong to someone, how to be a significant other.
For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like a solitary structure braced against collapse. With Wolf, I feel aligned, bonded, and fiercely aware of how much it means that he’s at my side, breathing and safe.
So I stay awake, guarding his sleep the way I once guarded Dove’s.
Midway through the flight, Kodiak comes back without a word. He lowers himself beside the sofa, careful as a mountain settling, and studies Wolf where he snoozes against me.
The look on Kodiak’s face is pure love, vast and fathomless. The kind of love that survived things no one should. The journal graphically illustrated what they endured together. Years of hunger, cold, and abuse, with one another as their only constant. Seeing that history reflected in Kodiak’s eyes reshapes things in my chest.
Then his gaze lifts to me.
He scrutinizes my arm around Wolf, the way I’ve angled my body to shield him from the aisle, and the calm soaked into Wolf’s sleeping face.
After a long, assessing perusal that measures intent and outcome, he gives a single, almost imperceptible nod.
Approval.
“I’ve never seen him like this,” he whispers so softly it barely sounds like him. “Not once. Never saw peace on him. Never saw hope. Nothing even close to happy. Not until you and Dove stormed into his life.”