Chapter 2 #2
"Daddy, are you hungry?" Maddie chirps, oblivious to the tension threatening to blow the roof off the cabin.
I tear my eyes away from Bianca. The effort is physical, like pulling a magnet from steel. I look at my daughter.
"Yeah, Mads. I’m hungry."
Starving.
I pull out a stool and sit. The wood groans under my weight. Bianca exhales, a shaky sound, and turns back to the food. Her hands tremble as she assembles another wrap.
I watch the way her sweater rides up when she reaches for a plate, exposing a strip of pale skin at her lower back. I want to put my brand there. I want to mark her so thoroughly that every man in Pine Valley knows she’s off-limits.
This is a collision. A car crash. I didn't fall for her; I slammed into her at a hundred miles an hour, and now I’m pinned in the wreckage, waiting for the fire.
She sets a plate in front of me. A turkey wrap with a vegetable face. It looks ridiculous. It looks perfect.
"Thanks," I grunt.
She sits opposite me, next to Maddie. She starts eating, trying to ignore my stare. But she can’t. Every time she lifts her food to her mouth, her eyes flick to mine. It’s a dance. A primitive, silent conversation.
I see you.
I feel you.
Run.
Stay.
"So," Bianca says after the silence becomes suffocating. "Mr. Gunnar—"
"Shane," I correct her. "Mr. Gunnar is my father, and he’s dead."
"Shane," she tests the name. It sounds too good on her tongue. Soft. Intimate. "What... what do you do besides the club? Your brother mentioned a business?"
"Peak Wilderness Outfitters. On Main Street. We run tours, sell gear. Legit business."
"Legit," she echoes. "As opposed to the illegitimate ones?"
I stop chewing. I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table.
"Do you really want to know about the other stuff, Bianca? Do you want to know what I do when the sun goes down?"
She holds my gaze, her breath hitching. She’s curious. That curiosity will get her killed. Or pregnant.
"Maybe," she whispers.
"No, you don't." I lean back. "You’re here to watch Maddie. You’re here to paint pictures and sing songs and keep the darkness out of her life. You’re not here to look into the abyss."
"Maybe the abyss is lonely," she challenges.
I nearly choke. She has no idea. No idea how lonely it is. No idea how much I want to drag her into it with me.
"Eat your lunch," I command.
We finish the meal in silence. Maddie chatters away, bridging the gap between us.
She tells Bianca about school, about the teacher who gives out gold stars, about the time Uncle Austin let her sit on his bike.
Bianca listens intently, treating Maddie’s stories like they are the most important news in the world.
Something settles in my chest watching them. A heavy, possessive weight.
Bianca isn't leaving. I won’t let her.
I check my phone. A text from Logan.
New girl work out?
I type back instantly.
She stays.
Good, Logan replies. Keep her close. Heard chatter in town. Sterling is asking about new faces.
My jaw tightens. Sterling. The billionaire lodge owner. He’s harmless enough, but if he’s asking, it means people are watching.
I stand up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Bianca jumps again. She’s skittish. I need to fix that. I need her to realize that I’m the safest thing in these woods, as long as she belongs to me.
"I have work to do outside. Bianca, you’re on duty. Maddie, show her the playroom. Do not go outside."
"Yes, Daddy," Maddie says, hopping off the counter.
Bianca stands up, wiping her hands on a napkin. "Will you be back for dinner?"
It’s such a domestic question. A wife question.
"Yeah," I say. "I'll be back."
I turn to leave, but I stop at the doorway. I look back. Bianca watches me, her eyes tracking the width of my shoulders. She bites her lip.
"Lock the door behind me," I order.
She presses her lips together in a firm line.
I step out onto the porch, the cold mountain air hitting my face. It’s a relief after the heat of the kitchen. I walk down the steps, my boots crunching on the gravel. I patrol the perimeter of the cabin, checking the sightlines. The pines are thick here, a natural wall, but I verify every shadow.
I end up at the woodpile, grabbing the axe. I need to hit something. I need to burn this energy before I do something stupid, like march back inside, throw Bianca over my shoulder, and carry her to my bed.
I bring the blade down. The wood splits with a sharp crack.
She’s too soft for this life. An artist. A city girl. She wears bright colors and talks about "Bumblebees." She doesn't belong in a world of cuts, guns, and territory wars.
Another strike. Another split log.
But she’s here. The instant she stepped onto my land, she became my responsibility. My protection.
I think about the way she looked at me. She looked at me with hunger. She wants me. She doesn't know why, and she’s trying to hide it, but I can smell it.
I pause, the axe resting on the chopping block, my chest heaving. The sweat cools on my skin.
I look up at the cabin. Through the kitchen window, I see her washing dishes. She’s humming—I can’t hear it, but I see the rhythm in her shoulders.
I made a mistake hiring her. This ends in blood or heartbreak.
But as I watch her moving in my home, filling the empty spaces with her light, I know one thing for certain.
I’m never letting her go.
The sun begins to dip behind the ridge, casting long, jagged shadows across the yard. The temperature drops rapidly. Night comes fast in Grizzly Peak.
I put the axe away and head to the garage. I need to check the bikes. I need to clean my guns. I need to do something with my hands other than touch her.
Inside the garage, the air smells of oil, rubber, and cold steel. My sanctuary. I walk over to my workbench, picking up the disassembled slide of my Sig Sauer. I start to clean it, the repetitive motion soothing the chaos in my brain.
The faint sound of a melody drifts from the house. She’s playing music.
I put the gun down and walk to the small window that faces the house. The lights are on inside, casting a warm yellow glow onto the snow. It looks inviting. It looks like a home.
I haven't had a home in a long time. I’ve had a fortress. A bunker.
A figure moves past the window. Bianca. She laughs at something Maddie said.
My fist clenches against the sill.
"You’re mine," I growl at her silhouette through the glass, my hand tightening into a fist. "I’ve already decided. You just haven't felt the weight of my cock stretching you out yet, marking the inside of your pussy with my seed to make this claiming official."
The realization is a physical weight. This is a claiming. I am claiming her. I am wrapping my dark, twisted world around her little yellow light, and I dare anyone to try and separate us.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Notification from the security system. Motion Detected - Driveway.
I stiffen, adrenaline flooding my system. I pull up the camera feed.
A delivery truck. UPS.
I let out a breath, but the tension remains. I watch the driver drop a package on the porch and leave.
Bianca opens the door to retrieve it. She steps out onto the porch, hugging her arms against the cold. She looks out toward the garage, scanning the darkness. She can’t see me, but she knows I’m here.
She lingers, standing in the cold, looking for the monster in the dark.
Then she grabs the package and goes inside, the lock clicking audibly in the silence.
Good girl. She listened.
I turn back to my workbench, the image of her on the porch seared into my mind. The slow burn has started. I feel the heat rising, licking at the foundations of my control.
It’s going to be a long winter. And if I’m not careful, I’m going to burn everything down just to keep her warm.
I pick up the gun slide again, snapping it back onto the frame with a harsh metallic clack.