Pack Obsession (Love Knot War #3)

Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

CASEY

T he Range Rover’s engine hums as we wind through darkened streets, its black exterior blending with night. Nash drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift. Music plays softly, classical, which surprises me.

"Didn’t peg you for a Mozart fan."

"Bach, actually." His attention stays on the road. "Helps me think."

I pull my legs up onto the seat, wrapping my arms around my knees. The position makes me feel smaller and safer somehow.

"Is that why you were in my room last night again? Thinking?"

"You were restless." No denial, no defense. Just simple truth. "The nightmares are getting worse, I notice."

I groan under my breath, not needing him to tell me what I already know.

"You fixed my lock and door." Not an accusation, just acknowledgment. He just nods, knowing full well that I locked the bedroom last night. And he still got in, telling me he has a key to my room or picks locks.

I study his profile in the passing lights. The sharp jaw, the slight tension around his mouth.

"Why do you really do it? Watch over me?"

He’s quiet so long I think he won’t answer, while I stare out into the night where we’ve left behind the city and it’s mostly woods around us.

"In the foster homes, no one watched over anyone. You learned to sleep light, or you didn’t sleep at all. And most of the kids there, including me, had some fucked-up backgrounds. Nightmares were normal."

The admission hangs between us. I want to reach for him but hold back for now. Instead, I trace the edge of my seat with my fingertip.

"I almost ended up in the system. When my parents died." I pause, staring at his hands tighten on the steering wheel. "My brother was nineteen. He fought hard for guardianship and won."

Nash nods slowly, his glasses catching the afternoon light. "Your brother sounds like a good man."

"He is. Gave up college to work two jobs, kept me in my school." The memory makes my throat thicken. "We ate a lot of ramen, but we stayed together. Our parents didn’t have a lot of money in the bank, it turns out."

"Sometimes one person is all it takes," he says softly. "To change everything."

The scar near his temple catches my attention—I’ve been wanting to ask about it but wasn’t sure how.

He sees me staring at his brow. "Foster dad’s ring," he explains, touching it briefly. "I got between him and a younger kid. Worth it."

My chest aches. Without thinking, I reach out and touch his shoulder. He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes under my hand. The contact sends warmth through my fingers, and I have to fight the urge to trail them down his arm.

"You protected others," I say, withdrawing my hand reluctantly. "Even then."

A grin stretches his lips. "Somebody had to." He stares at me. "What would you have done?"

"The same," I admit. "But I would’ve kicked him in the balls first."

His laugh fills the car, and I love the sound of it. This brooding Alpha needs to laugh more often. It transforms his face, softening the hard edges.

"I bet you would’ve." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"Too late," I tease, but there’s no bite to it. The tension from earlier has shifted into something else, something that makes my skin prickle with awareness every time he looks at me.

I remember how easily I lost control with Logan in the woods, how my instincts had overwhelmed my common sense. I can’t let that happen again. I need control, not to complicate my situation further. But it’s not just Logan. The way my body responds to the three Alphas unsettles me more than I want to admit. Attraction to more than one Alpha isn’t unheard of—hell, we’ve all been told it’s normal—but I know this is the doing of my heat. It’s clawing its way to the surface, making itself known in subtle but undeniable ways, and I hate it. I’m not ready for that chaos, for the hunger that comes with it, especially not now. Not when everything around me is already crumbling. Not when the last thing I can afford is to lose myself entirely.

Nash shifts in his seat, pushing his glasses back up his nose, drawing my attention. "The Hendersons had this massive library. Floor-to-ceiling books."

"Foster home?" I ask.

His words also stir a pang of memory, and my thoughts drift. Books . Kayla used to hoard them, her tiny collection bursting from the worn-out shelves of her room. She’d guard them fiercely, always saying they were her escape – her ticket to anywhere but here. My stomach squeezes at the thought of her. Where is she now? Where are any of my three friends? Are they safe? The not-knowing twists in my gut, sharper than the ache of missing them. I blink away the heaviness threatening to settle over me, forcing my focus back on Nash.

"Yeah. Mrs. Henderson caught me at three a.m. setting her engineering textbooks on fire after she blamed and reported me as having attacked my foster father when I was simply defending myself from his punches."

"Fuck! She deserved that!"

His fingers tap the steering wheel. "Next morning, I was picked up and taken to another foster family."

"How long were you at the new place?"

"Six months." His jaw tightens. "Not long enough, as that family was nice to me."

I twist the tips of my hair between my fingers. "My brother went kind of protector and teacher-mode on me. And I thank him every day that he kept us together."

"Sounds like a blessing."

"Mmm. Most of the time." I laugh. "Our tire blew out on the highway during this massive storm. I was seventeen, and guess who changed the tire?"

Nash glances over, one eyebrow raised. "Let me guess… teachable moment?"

"Oh, yeah. He supervised me from under an umbrella."

He chuckles.

"The umbrella flipped inside out. He got so tangled trying to fix it, he stumbled right into this huge puddle. Karma!"

Nash’s chuckle deepens, filling the car. "Your brother sounds?—"

"Wait, wait. Best part. He’s standing there, dripping wet, and goes, ‘And this, little sister, is why you should always bring a backup umbrella. Or a kayak. Probably a kayak .’ "

Nash’s shoulders shake. His sleeve rides up, revealing black lines etched into his skin. Geometric shapes that seem to flow into each other.

"What does your ink mean?"

He pushes up his sleeve, revealing the full design. "It’s a phoenix pattern. Got it the day I aged out of the system. A reminder that we can always rise again."

I want to trace the lines with my fingers. The urge is so strong, it scares me. I curl my hands into fists instead, pressing them against my thighs.

We keep driving, and I stare out the window at the woods until, after an hour or so, we finally start seeing the city lights up ahead. We’re approaching it fast.

"Keep low," he says suddenly, voice dropping. "We’re entering monitored areas."

I slide down in my seat as Nash takes us deeper into the city. My heart pounds against my ribs. Every passing car could be Julian’s men. Every security camera could be Nexus.

Nash’s hand finds mine in the darkness. "Breathe. I’ve got you."

I peer up as we pull into an alley behind what must be the restaurant. Fear overrides hunger as Nash kills the engine.

"What if they’re watching?" My words sound small. "What if Julian?—"

"Hey." Nash turns fully toward me. "Look at me."

I look at him. His eyes are darker in the dim light, intense behind his glasses.

"No one touches you. Not while I’m here. Not ever again." His thumb strokes my palm. "You ready?"

I nod, tugging the coat around me tighter around my throat, not trusting my voice.

Outside, the strong scent of ginger and garlic makes my mouth water.

The kitchen entrance leads us into organized chaos. Woks clatter, flames leap. Nash guides me through with a hand on my lower back, nodding to staff who barely looks our way. The whole place smells amazing, but anxiety kills my appetite.

Nash leads me down a dimly lit hallway past the kitchen, his hand light against mine. He slides open a door, revealing a small private dining room. Red paper lanterns cast a warm glow across intricately carved wooden walls. A low table dominates the space, surrounded by plush floor cushions.

"Clear," Nash murmurs into his earpiece, then listens briefly. "Copy that." His gaze finds mine as he disconnects, I assume from Logan and Axel, who had left an hour before us for the restaurant as lookouts.

"You’re shaking."

"I’m fine."

"Liar." He touches my cheek, the gesture startlingly gentle. "No one will hurt you here. I promise."

"I’m just..." I swallow hard. "What if something happens to Kai because of me?"

"That’s why we have backup. Logan’s watching his approach, Axel’s on perimeter." Nash’s thumb brushes my cheekbone. "Trust us."

The door opens before I can respond, and my heart stops. Kai stands there, my brother, my only family, the edges of his lips curling upward.

"Case!"

Nash slips out as Kai steps in, the door clicking shut behind them. I’m in my brother’s arms before I register moving. Tears blur my vision as I hold him tight. He feels thinner, tension radiating through his frame, but his embrace is as strong as ever.

"God, I’ve been so worried." He pulls back, scanning my face. "Are you okay? Really okay? Did anyone hurt you?"

"I’m safe." I touch his cheek, noting the dark shadows under his eyes. "But Julian?—"

"Has been watching me." Kai’s jaw clenches. "Showing up at work, asking questions. I knew something was wrong when you disappeared after the Nexus bus crash, and he showed up."

"He arranged all of it—the kidnapping, the crash." The words taste like ash. "Had these three Alphas I’m with orchestrate the whole thing and steal me away."

"Son of a—" His hands tighten on my arms. "I’ll kill him."

"No." Fear races through me. "You can’t go near him. Promise me."

"Case—"

"Promise me." I grip his shirt, my hands trembling. "I can’t lose you."

Something shifts in his expression. "And these Alphas, they’re the ones who kidnapped you but also brought you here? Can you trust them? Are they?—"

"It’s okay, I give you my word." The words tumble out as I explain everything—how they’re protecting me, letting me lie low, calling off their deal with Julian.

"And then what? What about Nexus?" The familiar worry line appears between his brows.

"I don’t know yet," I admit. "I’m trying to just survive now..." My breathing hitches, and he pulls me close, murmuring that it’s going to be okay.

The restaurant bustles beyond our door, the aroma of food drifting in, but all I can focus on is the weight of uncertainty.

"Maybe," Kai starts slowly. "You can pretend you’re matching with one of the Alphas. Tell Nexus you’re taken, get them off your back. Maybe even Julian would get the message..." He runs a hand through his light hair, the tribal tattoo on his neck peeking above his collar. "Fuck, that’s a lot to ask, and they seem like seriously scary dudes. And I don’t want you in that kind of situation, in fact… Not a great idea." He lifts my chin, hazel brown eyes full of heartache.

"I-I–" The idea settles in my chest, complex and heavy. Submitting a matching to Nexus means legal documentation—breaking it could land me right back where I started, with them trying to assign me another Alpha while I’m still of age. I can’t exactly ask the guys to pretend for five years...

Except...it wouldn’t be the worst thing, having one or more of them as my Alpha. The way they drive me wild with desire, with need. How I feel closer to them each day, seeing them change the more time we spend together.

I sigh. "Maybe. I don’t know..."

He wraps me in another hug, and I cling to him, my brother, the one constant always in my life. It’s surreal, standing here with him after Nexus took me from home. For a moment, I let myself believe we’re okay, that maybe we’ll find a way out of this mess together. But the relief is short-lived, eclipsed by the gnawing worry that’s been eating at me since the bus. That I won’t be left alone by Nexus, by Julian.

I pull back just enough to look up at him, my throat constricting. As much as seeing him fills a void I thought would never heal, it only sharpens the ache of not knowing about my friends too.

"Danica, Kayla, and Jess," I ask, my voice quivering. "Have you heard anything about them?"

He shakes his head, and my stomach hardens. "Nothing. No one has. Families are so worried. But Case, these guys..." He glances at the shut door behind him. "They’re really protecting you, right? They’re not hurting you, taking advantage?"

"They saved me. Could have turned me over to Julian but didn’t." My fingers fidget with my braid as I try to make him understand. "They’re teaching me to protect myself. I actually think they care."

The door suddenly slides open, and I flinch.

Nash slips inside, his expression grim enough to make my stomach drop. "We need to wrap this up. Julian’s men are outside the building, clearly following you."

Kai’s arms tighten around me protectively. "I’ll go back out there, show them I’m alone."

"Takeaway food’s ordered and paid for." Nash explains. "Act natural. Collect it from the front, then head home."

"Having you look after Case means everything to me. Thank you." Kai’s voice breaks slightly. "But you gotta give me your word that you won’t let anything happen to her. She’s my fucking world."

Nash meets his gaze without hesitation. "I swear on my life... no way will she be harmed." He catches my eye, winks, and my heart does that stupid flutter thing, even through my fear.

The warmth of his words tangles with the ice in my veins. Kai pulls me into one final embrace, and I breathe in his familiar scent—motor oil and the coconut shampoo he’s used since we were kids. My fingers clutch his shirt, and suddenly, I’m a child again, the two of us against the world.

"Stay safe," I whisper against his shoulder. "Please stay safe."

"You too, Case." His lips press against my forehead. "I love you."

Then he’s gone. The door slides shut with a quiet finality. My hand reaches out unconsciously, touching the space where he stood. The room seems colder, emptier. Bigger. The same hollow feeling spreads through me that haunted our house after our parents’ funeral, when every room felt too large without them in it.

"Casey." Nash’s words come soft, gentle, his hand warm on my elbow. "We need to move."

I nod, swiping at the tears I hadn’t realized were falling. "Thank you. For arranging this. I can?—"

"If you offer to pay me, I might actually get offended." He touches his earpiece. Then his thumb absently brushes away a tear from my cheek. "Logan, status?"

Static crackles, and I hear the incoming message.

"Company’s coming. Get out. Now."

Nash grabs my hand, and we’re moving through the kitchen, out the back, and into the car. The engine roars to life as headlights appear behind us.

Nash takes the first corner so hard, my shoulder slams into the door as I frantically tug at my seatbelt. The black Audi’s headlights flood our rearview mirror, uncomfortably close. My pulse is charging as we weave through evening traffic, panic drowning me. The city is a blur of neon and shadow.

"Logan," Nash’s tone is pure steel as he touches his earpiece. "I count two on our tail. Tell me you’ve got eyes up high."

The piece crackles then I hear faintly, "Third-floor parking structure ahead. Axel’s set up the welcome party. Get them to follow the breadcrumbs."

Nash’s mouth curves in a predator’s smile. "Copy that." He stares at me momentarily "Might want to hold on tight."

We blast through a yellow light just as it turns red. Horns blare behind us as Nash takes another corner, the Range Rover handling like it was built for this. Which, knowing these guys, it probably was.

I grip the door handle, my heart in my throat.

"Silver sedan!" I say a bit too loudly, my attention all over the road, my insights tight. That’s when the headlights rush up alongside us.

"Good spotting." Nash sounds pleased as he downshifts. "Keep watching. Your perspective helps."

We thread between two buses, Nash handling the massive vehicle like it’s an extension of his body. My grip tightens, my stomach in knots. The silver sedan tries to cut us off, but Nash suddenly has us sliding into an alley.

Nash’s grin is feral as he touches his earpiece again. "Axel, you’re up. Make it count."

We burst out of the alley into an intersection, my stomach’s in my throat. A massive black truck roars in from the left, t-boning the Audi with a crash that echoes off buildings. The car skids into a lamppost.

"That’s my cue," Logan’s response crackles through the earpiece. "Get her home. We’ll clean up here."

"Will they be okay?" I twist to look back at the wreck, worry churning my insides.

"They’re fine." Nash’s grip on the wheel relaxes slightly. "Probably having too much fun, if anything. Axel lives for this stuff."

We drive in tense silence until the city lights fade behind us. Only then do Nash’s shoulders lose their rigid set. He drives one-handed now, more relaxed.

"You’re insanely good at this," I say, studying his profile, my voice breathless and shaky. "The driving. The coordination. All of it."

My heart’s still pounding, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I replay the last few minutes of the chase in my head as we barely escaped. My fingers still dig into the seat, still gripping as if we’re about to swerve again.

Nash doesn’t even look rattled, his focus sharp and steady, like this is just another day for him. Meanwhile, I’m barely holding it together, my chest squeezing with the weight of what could’ve gone wrong. The fact that we’re still alive feels like some sort of miracle, and it’s all because of him and the other two Alphas.

"Had practice. Lots of practice." His mouth quirks. "Foster care teaches you to think fast and plan ahead. Never know when you’ll need an escape route."

"Several homes, you said?"

"Yep. Some better than others." He’s quiet for a moment. "Your brother, though," Nash continues before I can decide. "He did good with you. More than good."

"He tried so hard." The memory brings a sad smile. "Worked construction during the day, stocked shelves at night. Just to feed us and pay bills."

"That’s real family." Nash’s voice softens. "Not blood. Choice."

"Like you and the guys?"

"Yeah." He adjusts his glasses. "Found each other broken. Built something stronger. Logan gave me purpose, direction. Axel taught me to channel the anger."

"And now you help people."

"Sometimes." His eyes meet mine briefly. "Sometimes we help ourselves."

I process that as miles of darkness roll past.

Something about his presence adds to the fire always inhaling me. Or maybe it’s his scent—stronger now in the confined space and I’m not panicking for my life. I shift in my seat, suddenly too warm.

"You okay?" His nostrils flare slightly.

"Fine." I press my thighs together, a tingle buzzing deep inside me. "Just tired."

But another wave of heat rolls through me, stronger this time. Slick dampens my underwear as my body betrays me. Shit, no!

"Casey." His tone drops lower, rougher. "Your scent..."

"It’s nothing." Except, it’s there, intensifying. No point lying now. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t apologize." He punches something into the GPS. "How intense is it?"

"I don’t..." Another cramp hits, making me gasp, and I clasp around my stomach. "No idea. This is my first time."

"Cabin’s an hour away. Think you can wait it out?"

Fear slides cold down my spine despite the heat building under my skin.

"Nash..."

"Hold on." His knuckles go white on the wheel, taking stares at me, concern and something else building behind his gaze.

His scent of cinnamon baked rolls with the warm hearth smoke is everywhere now, heavy and sexy as fuck. It’s driving me wild, calling to something primitive in my blood. Desperate arousal gathers between my thighs, and I stare at his strong hands dreaming about them on me.

"Talk to me," he grits out. "Distract us both."

"About what?"

"Anything. Everything. Tell me about your first dance recital."

So I do. I talk about falling on stage, about Kai’s horrified face in the audience, about how he brought me shaved ice after to cheer me up. I talk until my voice shakes too much to continue, until the heat makes coherent thought impossible.

"Nash..." My tone breaks on his name, thick with the kind of desperation that claws its way up my throat.

"Less than an hour," he bites out, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumps. His knuckles are white, and I know he’s not as composed as he’s pretending to be.

Another wave of heat slams into me, stronger, deeper. It’s like an electrical shock, a frantic, aching pull that centers low in my belly. His scent explodes around me—cinnamon and pine and smoke, but sharpened, edged with something primal, something demanding. Every breath feels like a desperate gasp. He’s it, everything. The only thing I can think about, the only thing my body is demanding.

"I can’t—" The words tear from my throat as desire burns through every rational thought. "Nash, I need you. Now."