Chapter Twenty One
Wyck
I should’ve been satisfied, hell, full might be the better word.
Athens and Maeve cooked for us tonight, and not the kind of meal you forget either.
Homemade lasagna soup, thick and simmered to perfection.
Every single one of us walked away from the table in a daze, like we’d just been fed by something holy.
But I’m not at peace.
Not even close.
While the rest of the Devils retreated to their rooms, I’ve been wandering the halls like a ghost with too much on his mind and nowhere to unload it. I waited too long, restless and simmering, and now the clock’s dragged past midnight.
It’s only when a low crack, like a whip snapping across the sky, rattles the windows that I notice the storm. And then I hear it.
Not the thunder.
Her.
Soft whimpers. Fragile hiccups. A sound that grabs me by the throat and pulls.
I don’t hesitate. I move fast down the hallway, fists clenching with each step. My room’s door is cracked just enough for shadows to slip through. Another crash of thunder. Another broken sob.
Then I see her.
Curled on the floor, a sliver of moonlight revealing the small, trembling shape of her. Athens. My Little Fox. And fuck me, I wasn’t here when the storm started.
That’s on me.
I drop to my knees beside her, gathering her into my arms like something sacred I’ve failed to protect. Her body is warm but shaking, her breathing erratic as sleep and fear fight for control.
“Wyck?” she whispers, voice cracked and dazed, eyes glassy with dreams that never should’ve been allowed to touch her.
“I’m here,” I say, my voice low, teeth clenched. “I’ve got you, Little Fox.”
Her arms slide around my neck without hesitation, like muscle memory, like I’m her anchor and she knows it. I carry her to the bed, peel back the covers, and settle with her draped across me.
The weight of her, familiar and fragile, grounds me.
She shifts slightly, stirring against my chest. I adjust, jaw tight, because yeah, my body responds, but my mind is elsewhere. She’s crying in her sleep because I wasn’t here to fight her nightmares.
And that won’t happen again.
“Go back to sleep,” I murmur, threading my fingers through her hair.
“Thank you,” she breathes, lips brushing my chest. It’s soft. Innocent. It fucking guts me.
Within seconds, she’s out again, heartbeat syncing with mine, body warm and trusting on top of me.
I hold her like I’ll never let go.
Because I won’t.
She’s got this grip on me I can’t explain, this spell I never asked for, but it’s hers.
And in the dark, beneath the thunder and the storm, I let it pull me under.
Let her pull me under.
Like she always does.
Something’s wrong.
I don’t know how I know, I just do.
The air is too cold. The weight of her body, gone. My chest, which only hours ago was wrapped in the warmth of her, now feels like a grave cracked open.
Athens was sprawled across me when I passed out. I remember the way she clung to me after the storm rattled her bones.
But now?
Empty.
I reach over fast, blindly searching. My hand sweeps across the bed and catches soft skin, curves I know by memory.
Her ass.
Relief stabs through me so sharp I almost laugh. Almost.
I sit up, blinking through the shadows, and that’s when I see her.
She’s not far. Draped across Karter’s lap like a goddamn offering, his fingers moving slowly along her spine like he has any right to touch her like that. She’s stripped down to just a sports bra and shorts, sweat still slick on her skin.
“She was burning up,” he murmurs, voice low, unreadable. “Woke up drenched. Stripped her down so she’d cool off. She crashed again not long after.”
Of course she did.
“Thanks,” I say tightly, jaw flexing as I take in the sight of her resting against him. My girl. My fucking Little Fox.
“I found her earlier,” I add, voice rough. “Curled up on the damn floor. Crying. I didn’t even notice the storm until I heard her.”
“She’s been through hell,” Karter replies, not even looking at me. His eyes stay on her like he sees something the rest of the world missed. “Dreams still got their claws in her.”
My palms go slick. I wipe them down my jeans to hide the shaking in my hands.
What was she dreaming about?
What memories tore her apart?
I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know if I even can.
“She needs Gaia. Josie.” I finally admit, words tearing out of me like confessions I was too stubborn to speak. “She’s trying to hold it together, but I see the cracks. What if my father poisoned her so deep, she can’t crawl out of it? What if she’s already too far gone?”
Karter sighs. “Then we drag her back. Kicking. Screaming. Bleeding if we have to. That’s the deal, isn’t it? We take care of our own. And she’s ours now.”
That last part, she’s ours ,lodges somewhere inside me. Not because it isn’t true.
But because it is.
“She’s the beginning,” he continues, voice lower now. “The piece that’ll set everything on fire. We change everything with her.”
I look down at her. Peaceful now. Breathing even. Hands curled like she’s clinging to something good for once.
She doesn’t even realize she’s already the storm that’s going to break every goddamn thing wide open.
“It’s almost morning,” I mutter, exhaling hard. “We should try to get some sleep. Oh, and I forgot to mention, I’ve set things in motion. Halloween party. Next month. Baker’s Field Mill.”
Karter glances up. The smirk on his face is sharp enough to draw blood.
“Time for the Devils to come out and play, huh?”
I give him a look.
He howls anyway. Loud as hell.
Then remembers himself. “Sorry. Fuck yeah, ” he whispers this time, the smirk twitching at his mouth.
I shake my head, exasperated, but not really. We’re all unhinged in our own ways.
Karter shifts, settling back against the headboard, and Athens doesn’t move an inch. Still draped over him like she belongs.
I look away, until something tugs around my waist.
Her hand.
Even in her sleep, she reaches for me.
That one small pull undoes something brutal inside me.
I turn back, and she’s smiling.
A real one.
Soft. Safe. Like we’re enough to keep her from falling apart. And maybe we are. Just maybe.
I crawl closer, letting her pull me in until our bodies form this strange, perfect tangle around her. Karter smirks like the bastard he is.
“She’s clearly good at sharing.”
“Nobody asked you,” I mutter, my eyes already sliding shut.
The last thing I hear before sleep takes me?
Their breathing. Steady. Synchronized. Safe.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe we’re getting closer to the truth.
Even if it’s wrapped in blood and buried in the dark.
Morning breaks like a blade against my throat, too bright, too quiet.
I reach out, expecting warm skin, tangled limbs, the steady pulse of her pressed against me.
But the bed is cold.
She’s gone.
A sharp stab of panic digs into my ribs before I shove it down. I toss on a black tee, grey sweats, and stalk through the halls like something feral. I’m not used to waking up without her anymore.
As I hit the stairs, her voice finds me first.
Singing.
That fucking voice could resurrect the dead.
I stop in the archway, frozen as my Little Fox sways at the stove, barefoot, singing “Only Girl in the World” like she’s auditioning for sin itself. Long pencil skirt hugging her curves, blouse tucked in like she’s playing pretend. All neat. All polished.
All mine.
Her hair’s pulled back low, her hips in motion like a promise. My fingers twitch with the urge to destroy that illusion, to rip her out of that costume, bend her over the kitchen island, and shove every thought out of her head but me.
I take one step forward, then she turns.
Startled, clutching her chest. “Wyck! You scared the life out of me.”
Not enough, clearly.
“Didn’t mean to,” I say, smirking. “But I’m not sorry either.”
She chuckles. “You getting ready for class?”
“I’ve got other priorities today.” I close the distance between us, my hands already finding her hips. “We’ve got things to handle.”
Her eyes flash. “We?”
I don’t answer right away. Instead, I admire the way she fusses with the plates, perfect little hostess while the devil watches her breathe.
“We’re throwing a gathering,” I say finally. “Not a party. A reckoning.”
Her eyebrow arches. “Aren’t all your parties that?”
“Not like this one. Masks off. No more shadows. It’s time we remind everyone what it means to cross us.”
She shifts her weight to one hip, arms folded. “And what exactly does that mean?”
“It means… if they stand against us, they die.”
I expect a protest. Some trace of morality.
But what I get instead?
A grin.
“I’m down,” she says, voice like silk over a loaded gun. “I want what you want.” She wraps herself around my neck, mouth brushing mine. I move to kiss her, slow, but she has other plans.
I grab the back of her head and kiss her like I’m trying to brand her with my mouth. It’s sloppy. It’s possessive. It’s mine.
“You taste like trouble,” I growl.
She pulls away, panting. “No matter how much I want to stay and ride you till the sun sets, we’ve got shit to do.” She slaps my chest and walks off, hips swinging like a fucking metronome counting down to my undoing.
“She’s gonna kill me,” I mutter, right as my phone buzzes in my pocket.
No Caller ID.
The heat drains from my chest.
I swipe to answer. “Who the fuck is this?”
The voice on the other end is twisted static. A man. Too calm. Too smug.
“Why so serious?” he croons. “Finally, we get to chat.”
My blood goes ice-cold. “Last chance, who the fuck are you?”
He laughs. High-pitched. Sharp enough to split eardrums. “Let’s just say I’m a fan. And your little slut? She’s quite the treat. Bet she tastes like sin.”
I see red.
I flick my eyes to Dash, who just entered the room. I signal him over and slap the call on speaker.
“He’s baiting me,” I whisper. Dash nods, already hacking into his phone.
“Keep him talking.”
I oblige.
“Come out and play, coward. I’ll carve your name into the concrete myself.”
The man’s voice lowers.
“Predictable, Wyck. Bet Dash is trying to trace me now, isn’t he? Cute effort. But useless.”
Silence.
Then, “I’m always two steps ahead. You won’t find me… until I want you to.”
Click.
“FUCK!”
Dash shakes his head. “No trace. This guy’s not a rookie.”
He storms off, already punching in codes. I don’t follow, I have someone to check on.
“Athens!”
I call out as I storm back into the hallway. She walks in from the garage like nothing’s wrong.
“Damn, Wyck, where’s the fire?” she jokes. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I drag her against me so fast it knocks the breath from her.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she laughs, confused.
I bury my face in her neck. “Got a call. Just… be careful today, okay? Let me or one of the guys drive you to class.”
She leans back. “You said you weren’t going in.”
“I’ll go. Or someone else will. Doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I know. But I’d sleep better knowing you’re protected.”
She stares at me, then sighs. “Wyck, I can handle myself.”
I don’t push. Not now. But I fire off a silent text to Gage anyway. Follow her. Discreet. No mistakes.
He replies immediately: Done.
She kisses me once and slips out the door like a storm I’ll never catch.
I stand in the doorway for a long time after she’s gone, staring into the dark.
One problem down.
Ninety-nine more to burn.