Chapter Twelve #3
Just like that, it was over. The bailiff stepped forward, unlocking Dennis’s cuffs long enough to attach the ankle monitor—a bulky black thing that looked like something from a sci-fi movie.
Dennis didn’t take his eyes off me the whole time, even as the bailiff explained the rules again, slower, like he was talking to a child.
People began to file out, the room emptying around us. Burke’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. “Let’s go,” he murmured.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My legs felt like they were filled with concrete as I stood, Burke’s arm steadying me when I swayed.
We filed into the aisle, Rawley leading the way with Macon close behind.
Carter and Hooper brought up the rear, creating a living wall between me and the defense table.
It wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough.
We’d almost reached the door when Dennis’s voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. “This isn’t over, Danny!” he called, loud enough that everyone turned to look. “You hear me? This isn’t fucking over!”
The bailiff grabbed his arm, saying something too low for me to catch, but Dennis shook him off, eyes wild. “You think you can hide behind your new friends?” he spat. “You think they can protect you? I know where you live. I know where you work. I know everything about you, you little—“
The bailiff clamped a hand over Dennis’s mouth, physically restraining him now. “That’s enough,” he said sharply. “One more word and you’re spending another the night in a cell. Understood?”
Dennis went still, but his eyes—God, his eyes—never left mine. They promised things I didn’t want to think about, things that made my blood run cold.
Then we were through the door, into the relative quiet of the hallway, and I couldn’t hold it together anymore. My knees buckled, the strength going out of me all at once. I would have hit the floor if Burke hadn’t caught me, his arms coming around me to hold me up when I couldn’t do it myself.
“He’s going to come after me,” I whispered, the words tearing out of my throat. “He won’t stop. He never stops.”
My whole body was shaking now, tremors running through me like I was standing in the path of an earthquake.
My vision blurred, tears spilling hot down my cheeks.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but cling to Burke as the reality of what had just happened crashed over me in waves.
Dennis was getting out. He’d be free to walk the streets, to drive past the ranch, to wait for his chance.
And when it came—because it would, it always did—he’d make sure I paid for every second he’d spent in that cell.
For every bruise the police had photographed, every statement I’d given, every moment I’d dared to exist outside his control.
“He’s going to kill me,” I said, the certainty of it crushing my chest. “He’s going to find me and he’s going to kill me.”
“No, he’s not.” Burke’s voice was steady, his heartbeat strong against my ear where he’d tucked my head against his chest. “He’s not getting anywhere near you. Not now, not ever.”
I shook my head, too far gone to be comforted. “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“I know exactly what he’s capable of,” Burke said, a new edge entering his voice. “And I know exactly what I’m capable of. Let him try,” he growled, the alpha in him rising to the surface. “He’ll have to go through all of us first.”
I looked up then, blinking through tears to find the others arranged in a loose circle around us—Rawley with his arms crossed, face set in grim lines; Macon standing silent and watchful beside Carter, who was shooting worried glances at the courtroom door; Hooper already on his phone, probably calling in reinforcements.
Five men. Four alphas and an omega. Five people who’d shown up, who’d chosen to stand between me and the monster who’d haunted my nightmares for a decade. Not because they had to, but because they wanted to. Because somehow, against all odds, I mattered to them.
Something shifted in my chest—fear making room for something warmer, something that felt almost like hope. Not the blind, desperate kind I’d carried as a child, but something steadier. Something earned.
And beneath that, alongside it, a new emotion was taking root—a quiet, burning rage that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the life growing inside me. Our baby. Our future. The one thing Dennis couldn’t take from me, no matter what he did.
My hand moved to my stomach, the gesture unconscious but sure. I’d spent ten years running, hiding, making myself small enough to escape notice. I’d let Dennis take my childhood, my education, my sense of safety. I’d given him pieces of myself I could never get back.
But I’d be damned if I let him take one more thing. Not my freedom, not my home, and certainly not the tiny spark of life Burke and I had created together.
“That’s it,” Burke murmured, feeling the change in me. “There you are.”
I took a deep breath, then another, forcing air into lungs that had forgotten how to work. The shaking was easing, my vision clearing. I was still terrified—would be, probably, for a long time—but the paralyzing wave of panic was receding, leaving determination in its wake.
“I’m okay,” I said, voice steadier than I’d expected. “We should go. Before...” I trailed off, not needing to finish the thought.
Rawley nodded, already moving toward the exit. “Car’s out back,” he said. “We’ll take the service entrance.”
We moved as a unit down the hallway, Macon and Hooper taking point while Carter brought up the rear. Burke kept his arm around my waist, half-supporting me as we walked. I leaned into him, drawing strength from his solid presence beside me.
We’d reached the service door when I heard it—the sound of raised voices from the direction of the main entrance, Dennis’s carrying above the rest. “—know where you’re going!” he was shouting. “You can’t hide from me, Danny! You hear me? You can’t hide!”
Burke’s arm tightened around me, his body going rigid with barely contained fury. “Ignore him,” he said, voice tight. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”
I knew he was right. Knew, logically, that Dennis was exactly where the bailiff could see him, exactly where the ankle monitor would track him.
Knew that between the restraining order and the ranch’s security system and the very dangerous men currently forming a human shield around me, I was probably safer than I’d ever been in my life.
But knowing and feeling were two very different things. And the part of me that had spent a decade learning to flinch at shadows, to make myself invisible at the first sign of trouble—that part was screaming to run, to hide, to get as far from Dennis as humanly possible.
I took another deep breath, forcing that voice down. I wasn’t that person anymore—the scared kid who curled into a ball and hoped the storm would pass. I was someone who stood his ground. Who fought back. Who had people who’d fight for him.
Who had a future worth protecting.
We emerged into the weak afternoon sunlight, the cold air a shock against my tear-stained cheeks. Rawley’s truck was waiting at the curb, engine already running. Macon did a quick scan of the parking lot, then nodded to Hooper, who climbed into the driver’s seat.
“All clear,” Macon said, holding the door open for Carter. “Let’s move.”
We piled in—Rawley up front with Hooper, Macon and Carter in the middle seat, Burke and me in the back. As Hooper pulled away from the curb, I caught one last glimpse of the courthouse through the rear window, its stone facade gleaming in the sunlight.
Dennis was in there somewhere, probably being processed for release, probably already planning his next move. He’d find a way around the restraining order—he always did. He’d wait for his chance, and when it came, he’d take it.
But he wouldn’t find me alone. He wouldn’t find me unprepared. And he sure as hell wouldn’t find me willing to go quietly back into the darkness.
Not anymore.
Not ever again.