Chapter 17
Beau
I woke up to absence. That was the first thing I noticed.
The bed was too cold on one side. Too quiet. No soft breathing beside me, no familiar weight curled against my chest.
My arm reached out instinctively, but it found only cool sheets. Where was Sean?
My eyes blinked open. The silence made it worse. It gnawed at my chest with a hollow kind of ache I hadn’t realized I was capable of feeling. My grizzly stirred, restless. Grumbling.
We’d gotten used to waking up with Sean tangled up in us, legs thrown over mine, his head tucked beneath my chin, breathing steady and safe.
My old scars only ached a little this morning. I rotated my shoulder, stretching out the tightness.
My body was slowly adjusting to sleeping in peace again. In comfort. In the presence of someone I trusted.
But that calm vanished now. My instincts kicked in fast. Something was wrong. I sat up, sniffing the air. Cinnamon. Sugar. Warm bread.
I frowned, dragging a shirt over my head and padding quietly into the kitchen. There he was.
Sean stood at the counter, barefoot in one of my flannel shirts that was too big for him, sleeves rolled up past his elbows.
His hands were curled tightly around the edge of the counter as he stared down at a tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls.
His hair was a sleepy mess, and there were faint shadows under his eyes. Sean hadn’t slept at all. I was sure of it.
“Hey,” I said softly, not wanting to startle him but needing him to know I was there.
He jolted anyway, shoulders tensing before he turned toward me, eyes wide and too bright in the low kitchen light.
But the second he saw me, the tension melted. He sagged forward like his bones couldn’t hold him up anymore, and I caught him easily, pulling him into my arms.
“You okay?” I murmured into his hair. He smelled like cinnamon and my soap.
He didn’t answer right away. His forehead rested against my chest, and his hands clutched the back of my shirt like I was an anchor keeping him from drifting out to sea.
“I’m okay now,” he whispered eventually. His voice was small, hoarse.
I leaned down and kissed the nape of his neck, letting my lips linger there for a beat, grounding us both. “How long have you been up?”
“Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” he said, voice laced with attempted humor, though the edges of it were frayed.
I gave him a little squeeze, leading him to the table.
“Sit,” I said gently. “I’ll get us something to drink.”
He obeyed, looking exhausted but grateful. I poured him a glass of water, then started a fresh pot of coffee, the scent joining the cinnamon in a warm, comforting fog.
When I sat down beside him, he was already holding the glass in both hands like it might steady him.
“Nightmare?” I asked quietly.
He nodded, staring at the table, jaw tight.
“Wanna talk about it?” I asked.
He hesitated, then nodded again.
“It started normal. I was walking to the bakery. Sunny out, nice breeze. But it was too quiet. No one was around. Not a single soul on the street. Just… wrong.”
I listened, my chest tightening.
“I got inside and everyone was dead. Rafael, Leo, Dorian. Even the customers. And Beau—” His voice cracked, and I reached for his hand, squeezing it. “You were there. On the floor. And Orin was standing over you. Smiling. Like he’d won.”
My throat went dry. “Sean…”
“I woke up before anything else happened, but…” He shuddered, rubbing his free hand over his arm. “It felt real. Too real. Like a warning.”
I got up only to pull him into my lap, sitting us both down in the chair like it was made for two. He melted into me, head tucked under my chin again, like that was where he belonged.
“You’re safe,” I said, kissing his temple. “Right here. I promise.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But it doesn’t feel like enough sometimes. I keep thinking… what if it happens? What if he comes for you instead of me?”
I brushed my fingers through his hair. “I can handle myself.”
“I know you can,” he said quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just… if anything ever happened to you, Beau, I don’t know what I’d do.”
My heart thudded in my chest. There it was again. That fear, buried beneath all his bravery. He kept so much locked up inside.
And I couldn’t take all the weight off him, but I could shoulder some of it.
“You’re not selfish,” I said suddenly, reading the guilt in his voice. “You thinking about staying, about having a future here with me. That’s not selfish. That’s brave.”
He looked up at me, surprised.
“You’ve been running for so long. Wanting something? Choosing it, despite everything? That takes guts.”
He was quiet for a long time. Then: “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
My stomach tightened, but I kept stroking his back, waiting.
“There were rumors at the culinary school. About Orin. Some of the older students said he had ties to a shifter crime family in the city. That he used to do dirty work for them before he became a chef. I never knew if it was true. I didn’t think it mattered until now.”
“Sean…”
“I wasn’t keeping it from you on purpose. I just didn’t want to believe it was true. And I didn’t want to make you worry.”
“You being in danger is already enough to make me worry,” I said, voice low.
He looked away, ashamed.
“Hey.” I tilted his chin gently, making him meet my eyes. “Thank you for telling me. Whatever Orin’s history is, whatever power he thinks he has, it doesn’t matter. He’s not going to hurt you. Not while I’m breathing.”
Sean leaned in then, pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lingering kiss. I cupped his cheek, deepening it just enough to tell him everything I couldn’t quite say with words.
He pulled away, eyes glassy. “You always make me feel safe.”
“You always make me feel like I’m home,” I whispered.
He gave me a wobbly smile, and I knew he needed more than words.
I pulled him even closer, arms wrapped tight around him. Eventually, Sean leaned against me, looking sleepy now, probably worn down by the fear and the baking and the confession.
“Come on,” I whispered. “Back to bed.”
He followed me without protest. Once we were in the bedroom, he curled into my side like he always did, tucking himself beneath my arm, head resting on my chest.
I didn’t say anything. Just held him until I felt his breathing even out.
Only then, when I was sure he was truly asleep, did I carefully slip out from under the covers and grab my phone.
I stepped into the hall and called Rafael.
He answered with a groan. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry. This is important.”
His voice sobered immediately. “Is it Sean?”
“In a way,” I said. “Tell me about that shifter food critic you were talking to yesterday.”
“Yeah. He called himself Tom Crane. Gave me weird vibes. Like he was lying to me the entire time,” Rafael said.
“He was. That’s Orin,” I said.
A pause. “Sean’s instructor?”
“Yeah. He’s here, using a fake name.”
“What do you want to do?” Rafael said.
“For now? Nothing drastic,” I said. My bear growled inside me at the words. “We don’t want to stir up trouble, not yet. But I need you to dig into him. Find out where he’s staying, who he’s been talking to, how long he’s planning to stay.”
Rafael grunted. “Got it. I’ll start digging today.”
“Thanks,” I told him.
I ended the call and went back to the bedroom. Sean was still sleeping, curled in on himself like something small and breakable.
He shifted as I slid back into bed, instinctively pressing close. I wrapped my arms around him, drawing him back against me.
My bear stirred. Whispered to me.
Now. While he sleeps. Track Orin. Tear him apart.
I dearly wanted to. The part of me that was still Ironwood-born, still raised on blood and strength and dominance, it snarled at the idea of letting someone like Orin roam free.
My claws ached to come out. My teeth itched to rend. I knew if I found him, I could make sure he never breathed Sean’s name again.
But this wasn’t Ironwood Falls. This wasn’t the wild.
If I let that part of me win, I’d be dragging Sean into a different kind of danger. The kind with cops and investigations and messy headlines.
We weren’t law here. We were citizens. Business owners. Members of a community. And I’d fought too hard to build this life. Sean had only just started to feel safe.
I couldn’t jeopardize that. I exhaled slowly and ran my fingers through Sean’s hair.
We’ll deal with him. One way or another. But not yet. If Orin crossed the line…if he made one wrong move…
Then we’d rip him to shreds. Screw the consequences.
I had a feeling the Sugarpaw Summer Festival was going to be one of my favorite days of the year.
It brought the whole town together. Shifters, humans, tourists. The warm breeze carried the scent of sugar, fried dough, and grilled meat through the air.
Kids ran around with colourful balloons, booths lined the streets selling everything from handmade crafts to preserves, and laughter filled the square.
The sun was bright overhead, and bunting in shades of gold and blue fluttered between the light poles like festive streamers.
But this year, the festival felt like a bad idea.
I stood near the competition stage, staring at the four stations that had been set up for the big baking showdown. Bear and Bun, Wolf and Whisk, Happy Flour, and Sweet Tooth.
Our station gleamed. Dorian had made sure our name banner was extra polished, and Cassian had triple-checked the layout. I should’ve been feeling proud. Confident. Hungry for that prize.
Instead, I was scanning the crowd, fingers twitching, my grizzly growling low and relentless just beneath my skin.
Rafael stood beside me, arms crossed, looking unimpressed until James, who had flour on his apron and a cocky grin on his lips, blew him a kiss from across the square.
Rafael flipped him off without looking. “If I push him into the custard vat, will I be disqualified?”
“Only if you get caught,” I muttered.
But my heart wasn’t in it. I kept looking. Kept scanning the crowd, hoping I was wrong. Dreading the moment I would catch a glimpse of Orin.
“Where’s Sean?” I asked, voice low, barely keeping the tension out of it.
“Leo’s with him,” Rafael replied, more serious now. “They went to get coffee for everyone. Relax.”
I didn’t. The square was a mess of scents and movement. Too many people were packed into one space.
Music from a live band filled the background, and the event’s emcee was already up on the small stage explaining the rules of the bake-off to the crowd.
I leaned toward Rafael. “What did you find out?”
He sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Nothing new. Orin, or Cane, or whatever name he’s using, keeps everything under wraps. I hit a wall. My guess? He paid someone to scrub his trail. Wouldn’t be hard if he’s got the right contacts.”
“Which he does,” I said, jaw tight. “You can feel it too, right? The way the air feels charged. Like something’s coming.”
Rafael glanced at me. “Yeah. I feel it.”
His gaze sharpened. “Reel in your grizzly, though. Nothing’s gonna happen to Sean. Not with us here,” he told me.
I nodded, but it wasn’t reassurance I needed. It was a guarantee. And no one could give me that.
A breeze picked up, carrying the smells of fresh fruit, sugar, and yeast. My stomach turned, not from nerves, but from instinct. My grizzly didn’t want pastries. He wanted blood.
Then I saw Sean and Leo weaving through the crowd, a cardboard tray balanced in Sean’s hands, full of iced coffees. I relaxed a little.
Leo was chattering about something, but I barely noticed. My eyes were on Sean. His eyes found me and softened, that small smile curling his lips like it always did when he spotted me.
He walked over and held out one of the drinks.
“Got you the vanilla one,” he said, and his voice was grounding.
“Thanks,” I said, wrapping my hand around the cool cup.
The emcee’s voice boomed behind us. “...and the winner of today’s competition will receive a ten-thousand-dollar cash prize, and the coveted Golden Whisk Trophy!”
Applause. Cheers. People shouting the names of their favorite bakeries.
“Participants, please come to the stage!”
We began heading toward our station. Cassian and Dorian moved ahead, organizing their utensils. Leo lingered just behind them, and Sean walked beside me.
I let him, but I trailed slightly behind the others, just so I could keep scanning. Orin was here. I could feel it in my bones.
The crowd parted for a second, and I spotted movement. Then bumped shoulders with someone. I turned, tense. It was Callum. The Wolf Alpha.
He raised a brow. “Easy there. You almost spilled that coffee on my new shirt.”
“Don’t test me today,” I said through gritted teeth.
Callum studied me for a moment. “Something’s off. What’s the matter?”
I didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to share anything with him, of all people. But the words came out anyway.
“Someone’s after Sean,” I said. “And I think he’ll make his move today.”
Callum’s expression changed. The wolf behind his eyes snapped to alertness.
“Well,” he said slowly, “that explains your tense grizzly. I thought you were just having a bad day.”
His sympathy startled me. We weren’t enemies, but we weren’t exactly friends either.
“Have you ever dealt with something like this? A threat to your pack?” I asked.
Callum nodded once. “Yeah. A few months ago.”
“Did you play by the rules?” I asked.
He met my eyes. “We’re both lead alphas. It’s in our nature to protect our own. Just don’t take it too far.”
James’s voice interrupted us from across the stage. “Hey! You two done talking smack or are you just stalling ‘cause you’re scared?”
“Good luck,” Callum said quietly, before walking off.
I watched him go, then returned to Sean’s side. He gave me a questioning look. I didn’t say anything, just took his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back.
The crowd roared as the timer started. The competition had begun.
But I wasn’t thinking about dough, or flavor pairings, or presentation.
My focus was split, fractured between the task at hand and the darker undercurrent I felt thrumming just beneath the surface of this day.
It was the noise that masked the danger. The festival that made everyone lower their guard.
Except me. My eyes flicked to every movement in the crowd. Every tall man. Every shift of shadow. Every flash of something metallic.
Behind me, my grizzly stirred, restless and hungry.
Find him. End it.
If Orin showed his face today and if he laid a single hand on Sean, there wouldn’t be anywhere in this town he could hide.