Pack Obsession (Love Knot War #3)

Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

LOGAN

T he lobby of Hayes International reaches up forever, all gleaming marble and old money arrogance. Security is tight, much tighter than the public areas would suggest. I count six guards with concealed weapons in the lobby alone, another four watching the elevators. Julian’s paranoid.

The guard at the desk eyes my military ID with the sort of attention that tells me he actually knows what he’s looking for. Not just hired muscle—ex-military, probably special ops. Behind me, Nash adjusts his glasses, playing up the tech consultant role we’d decided on. His laptop bag holds enough processing power to crash half the Eastern seaboard, but right now, it’s just window dressing.

“Your credentials check out,” the guard says finally, handing back our IDs. His attention linger on mine a beat too long. Recognition, maybe. “Mr. Hayes is on floor forty-eight. He’s been advised of your arrival and is expecting you.”

The elevator rises smoothly, all chrome and mirrors, soft music. Nash catches my eye in the reflection, and I can see him cataloguing exits, security cameras, and potential threats. Old habits.

“Remember,” he says quietly. “We’re here to talk.”

“I remember.” My dog tags feel heavy against my chest. A reminder of other conversations that started civil and ended bloody. “But if he pushes...”

“He’ll push,” Nash adjusts his laptop bag. “Men like him always do.”

The elevator opens to a reception area bigger than most apartments. Everything screams money—the art, the leather couches, the vases with an explosion of roses. The young man behind the desk jumps to attention when we approach. Omega, I note. Interesting hiring choice for someone like Julian.

“Mr. Sullivan, Mr. Parker,” he stammers slightly. “Mr. Hayes is just finishing a call. Please, follow me.”

He leads us through glass doors into a corner office that dominates half the area. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a spectacular view of the city. Julian stands with his back to us, phone to his ear, designer black suit cut to perfection. He’s staring out the window. Everything about the scene feels staged.

“I’ll call you back,” he says into the phone, still not turning. “Something’s come up.” The pause is deliberate. Power play 101.

When he finally faces us, his smile is razor sharp. “Gentlemen. Finally. I trust you have an explanation for why my considerable investment was returned without consultation?”

Nash settles into one of the leather chairs without being invited. I remain standing, positioned between Julian and the open door.

“We decided the job wasn’t a good fit,” Nash says casually.

Julian’s perfect white teeth flash. “Not a good fit?” He moves to his desk. “You’re the best in the business. The job was simple. Find my Omega, bring her home. The fee was more than generous.”

“The job parameters changed,” I say flatly. “We don’t handle domestic disputes.”

“Domestic disputes?” He laughs, but there’s nothing warm in it. “She’s my fated mate. My property. I heard you were the best in the country but you clearly aren’t.”

Next to me, Nash goes very still, that deadly stillness that usually precedes someone’s systems getting fried.

“No one owns anyone,” Nash says softly in a way that should make Julian very, very nervous. “And we’ve seen the hospital records.”

Julian’s mask slips for just a moment. Something ugly flashes in those cold eyes. “Accidents happen when Omegas don’t know their place.”

“We’re not interested in the job.” I force the past back where it belongs. “Find someone else.”

Julian comes around the desk, moving into my space. He smells of expensive cologne and contained violence. “You know where she is.” It’s not a question.

“No.” The lie comes easily.

“You’re interfering with a fated bond. I can tell.”

Nash snorts. “Is that what you call it? Interesting definition.”

Julian’s hand slams down on his desk. The sound echoes, and his body guard appears in the doorway, face pale. Julian waves him off with a worried smile.

“Do you know what she is to me?” Julian’s voice drops lower. “I’ve had my share of Omegas, so many sweet pussies, and they all begged for me, but not her. Not once. And I knew then she wanted me for me, not my family’s fortune. She’s genuine. She was going to be mine forever. And I’ll burn down the fucking city to find her.”

Something cold settles in my gut.

“We don’t care about your research,” I say carefully. “Or your family projects. We have refunded you and our ties are cut. We leave it at that!” I command.

“Everyone has their price.” Julian straightens, adjusting his Rolex. “Name it. Double what I offered before. Triple.”

“Still not interested.”

His smile turns cruel. “I have resources. Connections you can’t imagine. The kind that make people disappear. Ask around about the last people who crossed my father.”

“Funny,” Nash replies, examining his nails. “We were just discussing something similar last night.”

I shift my weight, letting Julian see exactly what kind of threat I could be. He might have resources, but I have sixteen ways to end him before his guards could reach him.

“You’re making a mistake,” Julian says. “One you’ll regret. Deeply.”

Nash stands slowly. “We’re done here.”

“Or what?” Julian spreads his hands. “You’ll make me disappear?” He clicks his tongue. “So messy. So... beneath us all. Just tell me where she is, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“We don’t have her,” I say clearly. “But wherever she is, she’s better off without you.”

“We’re leaving,” Nash announces. “Consider our business relationship terminated.”

Julian straightens his cuffs. “Give Casey my regards when you see her. Oh, and Mr. Sullivan?” His eyes meet mine. “Do check on that brother of hers. Terrible neighborhood he lives in. So many accidents waiting to happen.”

My fists clench, but Nash’s hand on my arm stops me.

Except I’m already stepping forward, Nash’s warning grip forgotten.

“Let me be crystal clear.” My words deepen. “I see right through you, Julian. The offshore accounts, the misplaced evidence, the convenient accidents. You’re not as untouchable as you think.”

His jaw tightens, a microscopic tell, but I catch it.

“I’ve buried better men than you,” I continue, savoring how his composure cracks. “And unlike them, you’re sloppy. Desperate. Keep treading water if you want, but remember… sharks can smell fear.”

Julian’s shoulders jut back. “Is that a threat, Sullivan?”

“No.” I smile, all teeth. “That’s a professional courtesy. One you won’t get twice.”

The silence stretches like a tripwire. Julian’s shoulders bunch up.

“Get the fuck out.”

We leave, our footsteps echoing through his office like gunshots.

In the elevator, neither of us makes a sound. Outside, a block away from where we parked, Nash pulls out his phone.

“I’m calling Axel. We’re going to move Casey somewhere safe today. We knew this might happen so we’ve got our plan to move set.”

“And her brother we didn’t take into consideration,” I add. “She’ll be devastated if anything happens.”

Nash grimly nods as he punches in the number, then waits. “Fucking pick up. Hell, it’s going to voicemail,” he mumbles, then his expression tightens. “Axel, extraction plan in motion now. Code Red.” He glances at me, jaw tight. “Julian.” He ends the message, knuckles white around the phone. “Try him again in a few.”

I slam my fist against the steering wheel once we climb inside. “Did you see Julian’s face? He knows we have her. I made the mistake of assuming we had time to move her, that he didn’t know we had her. Should have done it already.”

“Maybe he’s just fishing…”

“No.” The memory of Julian’s smirk burns in my mind. “He knows. I saw it in his eyes. That cocky bastard thinks he’s got us cornered.”

Nash runs a hand through his hair. “Then we move today.”

“We’re picking up her brother first,” I admit, pissed at myself for missing the ball on this, of letting my head get swayed with Casey instead of being on the mark. Fuck!

“Got the spare sedan in the underground lot on Seven all ready for us,” Nash adds. “My contact at the traffic control center is waiting for my signal. Everything is set up.”

He’s already dialing.

I drive us into traffic as Nash gives me direction to her brother’s place. And we’re now racing against time.

The black SUV that pulls out farther behind us looks oddly familiar, following us from a distance. Fucking Julian’s men.

Axel

The pancake batter sizzles as it hits the griddle, filling the kitchen with a warm, sweet scent. Morning light streams through the windows, glinting off the knife nearby. I’m on my third batch when I hear her soft footsteps on the stairs. My body responds instantly to her presence, sparking alive, my cock throbbing even before she steps into the doorway, sleep-rumpled and wearing one of Nash’s oversized t-shirts.

“You cook?” Casey blinks at me, her voice still rough with sleep.

She drops onto one of the barstools at the counter, drawing her legs up under her, and fuck if the sight of her there doesn’t feel right in ways I can’t explain. Like she’s always belonged here.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” I flip a pancake perfectly. “Someone had to feed these other two. Nash would practically live on eggs and toast if he had his way. Logan never has the time.”

She props her chin on her hand, watching me work. There’s something different about her this morning, a new confidence maybe. Nash’s fucking her and knotting in her has changed something.

“I just pictured you more as a protein shake kind of guy. You know, all muscles and meal prep.”

I chuckle and slide a plate in front of her, perfectly golden pancakes drowned in syrup, just as I like them. “Though if you tell anyone I own an apron, we’re going to have problems.”

Her laugh is like sunlight. “Your secret’s safe with me. Though I have to ask, where did you learn to cook?”

“Foster home number three,” I say, surprising myself with the honesty. “Mrs. Rodriguez. She said if I was going to eat like a horse, I needed to learn how to feed myself.”

She takes a bite and closes her eyes in appreciation. “Oh my God, these are amazing.”

“High praise.” I settle onto the stool next to her, our knees brushing. The contact sends electricity through my veins.

She studies me over her coffee cup. “Must have been hard. Foster care.”

“Had its moments.” I steal a bite of her pancakes, grinning at her outraged sound. “Taught me to be self-sufficient. To fight for what I wanted.”

She reaches out, her fingers ghosting over the mark on my eyebrow. I catch her wrist gently, my thumb finding her pulse point. “Casey...”

A blush creeps across her cheeks, and she pulls back. “About last night...”

“You mean when Nash wouldn’t shut up about how perfect you were?” I keep my tone light, but my eyes never leave her face. “Pretty sure Logan’s going to kill him when they get back.”

She groans, dropping her head to the counter. “Oh God, you all know. Everything.”

“Kind of hard to miss.” I push another pancake onto her plate. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s natural.”

“Yeah, but...” She sits up, pushing her hair back from her face. “This morning, I feel almost normal again, like Nash helped me get it out of my system. Do you think that was it? That the heat won’t come back?”

I study her face—the flush still high on her cheeks, the slight dilation of her pupils. She has no idea how beautiful she is like this. “Never heard of a heat lasting just one day. And given how delicious you smell right now...”

“Fantastic.” She stabs a pancake with more force than necessary. “At least there’s comfort food.”

“Always.” I watch her eat, something protective and possessive curling in my chest. “How are you really doing? With everything?”

She pauses, fork halfway to her mouth. “Honestly? I don’t know. Everything’s happening so fast. Weeks ago, I was just... normal. Working my job, avoiding Julian, and trying to keep my head down. Now, I’m in heat, been knotted by Nash, hiding from my psycho ex, and eating breakfast made by a professional thief who looks like he could bench press a car but also makes the fluffiest pancakes I’ve ever had.”

“Criminal entrepreneur,” I correct, winning a small laugh. “And I bench press trucks, thank you very much.”

She looks up at me through her lashes. “I would love to get away from all the chaos… to go back to Hawaii one day.”

I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into the touch.

“I hear Hawaii’s nice this time of year.”

Her eyes smile. “It’s gorgeous every day of the year. Have you ever been?”

“Never had the chance. Hard to relax on a beach when you’re...” I gesture vaguely at myself.

“What, too scary looking?” She steals a piece of my pancake in retaliation. “Please. You’re just a big softie who stress bakes.”

“I do not stress bake.”

“The three batches of pancakes say otherwise.” She grins. “And speaking of which, where are the other two?”

I pause and quickly stuff some pancake into my mouth, then finally say, “Out on errands.” Last thing I want to do is scare her and say they’re visiting Julian. “Anyway, I wouldn’t mind going with you, though. To Hawaii.”

She stills, fork hovering. “You want to go with me?”

“Why not?” I hold her gaze, letting her see the truth of it. “Sand, surf, seeing you in a bikini...”

She throws a piece of pancake at me. “You’re terrible.”

“You would love it.”

The words hang between us, charged with possibility. She bites her lip, and fuck if that doesn’t set me on fire. My cock’s getting harder… impossible not to do when in her presence.

She stands suddenly, stretching, and my mouth dries at the way Nash’s shirt rides up high on her thighs. “I should shower.”

“Go,” I say roughly. “I’ll clean up.”

She pauses in the living room, staring back at me. “Thanks for breakfast, Axel. And... for everything else. For making me feel safe.”

“Always, little thief.”

Her laughter follows her up the stairs, and I find myself smiling as I gather the dishes. The domesticity of it should feel strange, but instead it feels inevitable. Right. Like every fight, every scar, every dark deed led me here—to her.

I’m loading the dishwasher when movement catches my eye through the kitchen window. Just a flash, there and gone, but enough to set off every alarm in my head.

“Fuck.” I move silently to the security panel, checking the perimeter cameras. Nothing obvious, but...

There. Another shadow, moving too purposefully through the trees.

My heart pounds as I grab a kitchen knife.

Something’s wrong. The security system should be screaming right now—every approach is triple-monitored. I reach for my phone, realizing I’d left it upstairs in my room. Fuck!

Movement outside in the woods again, closer now. My mouth goes dry. They’re not even trying to hide anymore. Professionals, not common thugs. The kind who know how to kill a high-end security system without leaving a trace. Going into the pantry, I grab the handgun and slide outside.

Sweat trickles down my back as I check the back door is locked, then dart to the front of the house and slip outside, locking that too behind me. Stepping quickly into the shadows of trees by the house, I rush around the house, taking a wide sweep, keeping low to the shadows. My eyes dart across the tree line, searching…

Another shadow flitting through the woods in the back, attention on the house.

The morning mist clings, every sense on high alert.

I grip my blade in one hand, gun ready in the other as I scan the woods to locate my prey. There – a shadow moves against the shadows again, too deliberate to be natural. Two more figures lurking farther in the distance, splitting up.

Holding position, I lift my gun and aim for the first guy, suppressor on, I take aim and shoot. Hit to the head. He’s down.

Weapons tight, I lower myself and move toward the others amid the dense trees and using the shadows to conceal myself. These guys are professionals and definitely hired by Julian. His guards aren’t this good to sneak up on us.

Then I spot one of the fuckers, dressed in all black, his back to me. I close the distance in complete silence, bare feet finding each solid step through years of practice. Three more steps and?—

He spins faster than anyone that size should be able to move, boot swinging toward my hand. The gun goes flying but I'm already diving forward, blade leading. He blocks with his forearm and I feel the knife bite, but not deep enough.

We crash together in a controlled frenzy of strikes. He's good – really good – but I've got rage on my side. His fist grazes my jaw as I duck under another strike. I drive my shoulder into his chest, grunting, using his weight against him. We go down hard.

But he only laughs and tries to roll but I've got the angle. My blade finds his thigh, sinking deep where I know it'll hurt. He lets out a strangled howl as he drops to the ground.

A twig snaps behind me.

Another figure emerges from the tree line. I twist fully toward them, bringing the blade up.

The intruder's gun comes up too, early morning sun glinting off the silencer through the canopy gaps. But I'm already in motion, low and fast. The blade in my hand feels alive, eager. He gets one shot off—suppressed crack barely louder than a whisper—but I'm not where he expected. The bullet kicks up pine needles behind me as I drive forward.

My free hand locks around his gun wrist, torquing it outward while I slam the blade up under his ribs. His body armor catches the first thrust, but I know the weak spots. I twist the knife, finding the gap beneath the plate carrier, and drive it home. He makes a wet, surprised sound behind his balaclava. The gun drops from his fingers as I wrench my blade free. He crumples, and I'm already moving to secure the weapon, scanning the sun-dappled treeline for any more surprises.

I'm already turning when something sharp slams into the side of my neck fast and pinches my skin.

Fuck!

I reach up and yank the dart from my neck. My head's already swimming – whatever they used, it's professional grade, fast-acting. The woods blur at the edges of my vision, trees doubling and swaying where they shouldn't.

They fold like wet paper, my knife hitting the ground from suddenly useless fingers.

“You fuckers,” I snarl as the world tilts. “Touch her and I’ll kill every last one of you.”

“Nothing personal.” A man appears, standing over me. “Just following orders.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

The last thing I hear is him speaking into a radio. “Alpha team in position. Target secured. Proceeding to primary objective.”

Then darkness claims me, and I’m falling, falling, falling...

And Casey’s all alone upstairs, with no idea what’s coming.