Chapter 22
Levi
T he cabin is quiet, save for the occasional pop of a log in the hearth and the faint sound of the trail cam monitor on the table. I sit forward, elbows braced on my knees, eyes locked on the black-and-white feed flicking from one camera to the next. Woods. Drive. Porch. All clear.
I check my phone again, thumbing through Colton’s last message:
Got a partial hit on his whereabouts. Found another warrant in yet another state. Stay sharp.
No problem there. I’m definitely on high alert, almost like I expect something to happen. It’s the new moon so the sky is darker than usual. If Jake’s as devious as I believe he is, this would be an ideal time for him to make a move.
I glance at the time on my phone. Waiting and watching like this makes a man like me nothing but restless. I stand, pace once across the main room, then lean down to reset the cam feed. That’s when movement catches my eye.
Grainy pixels on the far-left screen – a shadow slipping through the treeline. Not an animal. Too tall. The figure stops and crouches low. My muscles lock tight. That has to be Jake Morrell.
I snap a shot of the screen, text it to Colton with one word:
Here
Almost immediately, my phone buzzes:
On my way. Don’t engage until backup arrives.
I huff under my breath. Easy advice when it’s not the woman and child you’ve come to care for so much. I reach for the pistol at my hip, check the chamber, then slip out the back door. My boots are near silent as I know just where to step to keep the noise down to a minimum.
I put the gun back in my holster. I’ve got to be careful with no trigger happy episodes … or I’ll be behind bars.
Jake doesn’t know I’ve seen him. Doesn’t know the cameras are awake now. He’s angling toward the porch, head low, shoulders hunched like a predator stalking prey.
“Jake,” I call, my voice loud, carrying in the stillness. He freezes, half-shadow, half-man. Slowly, he straightens, and even from here with the dark sky, I could swear I see a smirk on his face.
“You think you can hide her from me?” he calls back, his tone slick and taunting. “She’s mine. She’ll always be mine.”
The words are gasoline to the fire already in my veins. I step closer until he can see the set of my shoulders, the gun holstered at my side.
“You walked out. You left them both. You don’t get to rewrite history now.”
His smirk fades, replaced by a sneer. “Get out of my way.”
“Not a chance.”
He lunges, but he’s slower than he thinks. My shoulder slams into his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. He scrambles up, swinging wild.
I duck, catch his arm, twist until he howls. My other hand drives him face-first against the side of a tree, bark grinding into his cheek.
“You so much as breathe near Hannah or Ivy again,” I growl in his ear, “you won’t be able to talk about it.”
Red and blue lights flicker through the trees just as Colton’s truck crunches up the lane. Relief surges, but I don’t let go until the sheriff and two deputies are at my side, cuffs ready.
Colton clasps them around Jake’s wrists, reciting rights in his official voice. “Outstanding warrants just caught up with you, Morrell. You’re done.”
Jake spits dirt, snarling, but it doesn’t matter. He’s trussed like the coward he is, hauled toward the cruiser with Colton’s firm hand at his back.
I stand there in the dark, chest heaving. The cams blink their silent record. Proof enough to bury this bastard where he belongs. My lungs draw a full breath. Hannah and Ivy are safe. I don’t have to worry about this bastard any longer.
Turning back toward the cabin, Hannah stands in the doorway. She has her hands clutched at her mouth, eyes wide, as if she doesn’t recognize the man who just fought for her. I can tell she’s freaked out. I might’ve shown her too much of the beast I keep leashed inside.
I walk up the porch steps, adrenaline still surging. I try to slow myself down. I don’t want to appear as some unhinged animal, even if that’s what I feel like right now.
The porch light throws Hannah into relief with tangled hair and bare feet. Thank God, Ivy wasn’t there to see what just went down. I don’t stop until I’m standing close enough to see tears in her eyes. I want to say a thousand things, but all that comes out is: “You okay?”
The sound of it is roughened, choked out of me. She nods once, placing one hand to her chest like she’s steadying herself.
I reach for her, slow and careful, and she folds against me with a sudden force.
Her arms lock around my ribs. I feel her pulse fluttering through her ribs and mine like a trembling bird.
I press my palm to the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, and just hold her.
My chin rests atop her temple. She’s warm, breathing me in. I don’t let go.
I think I could hold her for the better part of an hour. I don’t say anything. Maybe I should. Instead, I just stand there, breathing alongside her, wanting to take the weight off her and carry it myself.
Her body relaxes first, as if she’s dropped anchor. Only after a minute does she lift her head, eyes glassy but.
“I thought you’d …” she starts, and shakes her head, embarrassed. “Doesn’t matter. You handled it.”
She looks down at my hands. “Are you hurt?” she asks.
I give her a tired smile, flex my knuckles so she can see them. “Not a scratch. He was never going to hurt me. All bark and no bite.” I force a laugh.
The wildness is still fizzing in my blood. I want her to know I'm still Levi, not some overgrown attack dog. “Was Ivy …?”
“She slept through it. She’s a heavy sleeper.” Her hands stay on me. I want to tell her she can let go, but it’d be a lie. I don’t want her to … not yet.
“You kept us safe. You’ve done nothing but protect us,” she says, squeezing me hard.
She’s still trembling and her muscles feel more tense than mine. Not from fear of me, but the dangerous, charged aftermath of me facing off with her ex. But he’s taken care of and I’ll make sure any and all charges that can be held against him will be, including the stalking charge.
I tell myself, it’s all going to work out. I hold her tighter as the beast inside me finally lies down, knowing who it belongs to.