Chapter 9
Raven
Shane had been practically living at the hospital for two days while I held down the fort at his cabin, editing videos and fielding increasingly aggressive messages from my channel manager.
My phone rang. Shane.
"How is he?"
"Alive." His voice was exhausted. "Heart attack led to a stroke during surgery. He can't walk. Speech is affected. But he's alive and... Raven, he knows me. Consistently. First time in two years he's called me by my name every single time."
"That's good, right?"
"Yeah. Maybe. The stroke damaged some parts while clearing others. Doc says it happens sometimes." A pause. "I'm coming home tonight. Need to shower, sleep in a real bed."
"Need me?" I asked softly.
"Always."
After he hung up, I stared at my laptop screen.
Three emails from Netflix, each offering more money.
The latest was seven figures for an exclusive documentary series about "The World’s Most Haunted Abandoned Places" with Wildfire Ridge as the flagship episode.
And then a new place all over the world for every episode.
Seven. Fucking. Figures.
More money than I'd see in a lifetime of YouTube ad revenue.
Enough to never worry about anything again.
Enough to go anywhere, film anything, complete financial freedom.
I was responding to them when I heard Shane's truck pull up.
He looked like hell—three days of stubble, shadows under his eyes, his usual powerful presence dimmed by exhaustion.
"Hey," I said softly.
He didn't speak. Just crossed the room in two strides and pulled me against him, burying his face in my hair. We stood like that for several minutes, him just breathing me in.
"Tell me he's really okay," I whispered.
"He's safe. Confused about where he is, thinks he's in a hospital for a 'work-related injury,' but he's safe. Can't come back to the lodge, though. Not ever."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. This is better. He's getting proper care. Three meals a day. Physical therapy. Pretty nurses to flirt with." A ghost of a smile. "He asked about you. Called you 'that nice Rebecca girl' but also 'Shane's girl' in the same sentence."
"His timelines are still mixed."
"Always will be. But he's not suffering. That's what matters."
Shane pulled back enough to look at me. "Show me what you uploaded."
I led him to the laptop, played both videos. Watched his expression shift from concern to surprise to something that looked like pride.
"You killed it," he said.
"That was the plan."
"I don’t know if I want to take down the lodge."
“I just said that so no one would come looking for it.”
“Hmm,” he said and then pointed to the notification that just popped up from the producer who had been trying to get me to commit to the Netflix series.
"What’s that all about?”
So I told him. I shook my head as I was recanting the story. I still couldn’t believe it.
"Seven figures is life-changing money," he said when I was done.
"It is."
"You should take it."
I blinked at him, confused. "What?"
"Take the deal. Get rich. Leave." His voice was flat, emotionless. "We both knew this was temporary. You have a career. A life. Subscribers waiting for content. This was just a weird week that got out of hand."
"A weird week that got out of hand?" I stood up, angrily. "That's what this was to you?"
"What else could it be? You're a traveling content creator. I'm a paramedic in the middle of nowhere. You were always going to leave."
"You bastard." I was genuinely furious now. "You absolute fucking coward."
His eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Coward. You're so terrified of being abandoned that you're pushing me away first. Classic foster kid bullshit, Shane. I should know. I’ve got my own abandonment issues."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" I pulled my shirt over my head, standing there in just my bra. "You think I'm leaving? You think I'd choose money over you?"
"Everyone does, eventually."
"I'm not everyone." I unhooked my bra, let it fall. "I'm yours. You claimed me. You don't get to unclaimed me because you're scared."
His hands clenched at his sides, his control visibly fraying. "Raven—"
"Shut up." I pushed my jeans down, stepped out of them. "You want me to leave? Make me. You're so good at being in control, at making decisions for everyone else. But you can't control this."
"Put your clothes back on."
"Make me."
He broke. One moment he was across the room, the next he had me pressed against the wall, his mouth crushing mine. The kiss was brutal, desperate, full of fear and need and anger.
"You think this is a game?" he growled against my throat.
"I think you're worried that you’re about to lose the best thing that ever happened to you because you’re too scared to believe it's real."
He lifted me, carrying me to the kitchen counter, sweeping everything off with one arm. "You want real? I'll show you real."
His hands were everywhere, demanding and possessive. He bit my shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, soothed it with his tongue, then bit again.
"Mine," he snarled. "You're mine. Say it."
"Make me stay," I challenged. "Give me a reason."
He yanked my panties aside rather than removing them, thrust two fingers inside me without warning. I cried out, already embarrassingly wet.
"This enough reason?" He worked me ruthlessly, adding a third finger, his thumb finding my clit. "The way you're dripping for me? The way your body knows exactly who it belongs to?"
"Shane—"
"No." He withdrew his fingers, spun me around so I was bent over the counter. "You don't get to challenge me and then say my name like that. You want me to give you a reason to stay? Fine."
I heard his zipper, felt him press against me. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember why you'd ever want to leave. Until the only word you can say is my name. Until you understand that you belong here, with me, forever."
He thrust in hard, no warning, no gentleness. I screamed, the stretch almost too much, but my body adjusted, welcomed him.
"That's it," he growled, setting a punishing pace. "Take it. Take all of me."
One hand tangled in my hair, tugging my head back. The other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. This wasn't lovemaking. This was claiming. Possession. Desperation.
"You think I can just let you go?" He pulled almost all the way out, slammed back in. "You've ruined me. No one else will ever be enough. No one else will ever be you."
"Then stop trying to push me away!"
He pulled out, spun me around, lifted me onto the counter. Before I could protest, he was back inside me, this angle deeper, more intense.
"Look at me," he commanded. When I did, his eyes were wild. "You're not leaving. Say it."
"I'm not leaving."
"You're mine. Forever. Say it."
"I'm yours. Forever."
"And I'm never letting you go." He kissed me, brutal and possessive. "Even if you try to leave, I'll follow you. Hunt you down. Bring you back. You're mine, Raven. Mine to protect. Mine to fuck. Mine to keep."
His thumb found my clit, and I shattered, screaming his name. He followed immediately, grinding deep as he came inside me, marking me from the inside out.
We stayed like that, him still inside me, both of us panting. Finally, he pulled back enough to look at me.
"I already turned Netflix down," I said quietly.
His whole body went rigid. "What?"
"Three hours ago. I sent them a nice rejection email and told them I was pursuing other opportunities." I showed him the laptop screen—the sent email clear as day.
"You gave up seven figures. For me."
"For us. For Walt. For the life we're building here." I cupped his face. "I'm not going anywhere, Shane. You're stuck with me."
He stared at me for a long moment, then lifted me off the counter, carrying me to his bedroom.
This time when he took me, it was slower but no less intense.
Possessive but also worshipful. He mapped every inch of my body with his mouth and hands, marking me with bites and bruises, claiming me so thoroughly that I'd feel it for days.
"You're going to marry me," he said against my skin. "Not asking. Telling. You're going to be my wife. Have my babies. Build our life here."
"Is that a proposal?"
"That's a promise." He thrust deep, making me gasp. "You chose me over seven figures. You chose us. So now you get all of me. Forever. No escape clause. No running. You're mine, and I'm yours, and that's final."
"Deal," I gasped, then couldn't speak anymore because he was doing something with his fingers that made me see stars.
Later, tangled together and exhausted, he said quietly, "I need to tell you something."
"If it's another attempt to push me away—"
"No. The opposite." He pulled me closer. "My brothers don't know this, but... I'm not broke. Not even close."
I pulled back to look at him. "What?"
"Remember I mentioned investing? I've been doing it since I was sixteen. Every penny I could save, I invested. Compound interest is a beautiful thing. I could write a check for Walt's care for the next twenty years and not feel it."
"Shane, are you telling me you're secretly rich?"
"I'm telling you that you didn't just give up financial security for love. I can take care of you. Of us. Of our family." His hand splayed possessively over my stomach. "You gave up Netflix for me, but I'm going to give you the world."
"I don't need the world. I just need you."
"Too bad. You're getting both." He kissed me, soft and deep. "My wife is never going to want for anything."
"Not your wife yet."
"Details. You already said yes."
"You haven't actually asked."
"I will. When you least expect it. But make no mistake, Raven—you're already mine. The ring is just a formality."
I snuggled into his chest, breathing him in. "I love you too, you know."
He went still. "I haven't said—"
"You did. With every possessive word, every desperate touch. You love me, Shane Wolfe. And I love you. Deal with it."
His arms tightened around me. "I love you so fucking much it terrifies me."
"Good. Use that fear. Let it remind you that I'm worth fighting for. Worth keeping. Worth believing in."
"You're worth everything," he said against my hair. "Everything."
Tomorrow, we'd deal with Walt's care. We'd figure out the future of the lodge. We'd tell his brothers I was staying permanently.
But tonight, we just held each other, two damaged people who'd found home in each other's arms. The trespasser and the mountain man. The YouTube star who'd given up fame for love, and the secret millionaire who'd given up isolation for family.
We'd both chosen each other over our fears.
And that was the only ghost we needed to exorcise.