Chapter Ten
He waited a moment longer, just to be sure.
Nick had bundled up on the bed with his back to the door, his feet tucked in tight.
The little vampire looked peaceful for once, no crease to his brow, no tremor in his jaw.
Logan listened to the sound of Nick’s breathing, the rise and fall of it. Then he left.
He made it to the stair landing to find three wolves were waiting for him. Sloane blocked the way, his fist flexing at his side. Wade and Quinn stood just behind, both of them nearly vibrating with the urge for violence. No questions, not even a polite hello.
Sloane didn’t waste time. “Truck’s waiting. Everyone’s ready.”
Logan nodded. He didn’t need to ask if they had backup. Sloane wouldn’t have shown up unless the pack was on their side.
They went out through the side door, where headlights cut across the gravel lot and the smell of diesel hovered in the air. Wade drove. Sloane and Quinn let Logan take the front seat with no argument. The moment the doors slammed, Wade peeled out, heading toward the highway.
Sloane rolled down his window, letting the night air fill the cab. “Last we saw, Mack was using the rental on Alder Street. Backyard’s all overgrown, and neighbors said he’s been coming and going at all hours.”
Quinn spat out the window. “He’s got a habit of keeping low.”
Logan wanted to say that Mack wouldn’t have the option tonight, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he jacked a round into the pistol on his thigh, just in case. The others did the same.
Wade didn’t speak. He just drove, knuckles white on the wheel.
The world outside got tighter, darker. Crimson Hollow shrank in the rearview, replaced by streetlights and empty houses. At the edge of town, they pulled into a lot behind a shuttered pizza joint, stashed the truck, then went the last few blocks on foot.
Alder wasn’t much to look at. Houses packed tight together, half the porches sagging, grass on every lawn knee-high. Mack’s place was the only one with two cars out front. One was his usual ride. The other wasn’t familiar.
They slipped around the side, sticking to shadows. Wade took the back. Sloane led the way up the porch. No noise, not even an accidental scuff of boots. Logan followed. Quinn watched the street, ready to signal if Mack tried to run.
Sloane put a palm against the door. “Deadbolt,” he whispered. “Quinn?”
Quinn produced a slim jim. Thirty seconds later, the lock gave. Sloane eased inside, Logan and Quinn at his back. They shut the door softly, each man scanning for threats. Wade waited in the rear, guarding the only escape.
Inside, the house smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap takeout. Every light was off, but voices echoed from the living room. Logan caught the shape of two bodies, Mack and someone else, hunched over a table. A loaded shotgun sat between them.
Sloane didn’t hesitate. He went low, slicing across the tile in three fast steps, his hand closing on the shotgun and tossing it across the room.
Logan barreled forward, catching Mack’s shoulder and slamming him face-first into the wall.
Drywall cracked, and a picture frame toppled down, glass shattering.
Logan buried a fist in Mack’s stomach then hit him again for good measure.
The guy grunted and doubled over, but he fought dirty.
He came up with a fistful of Logan’s shirt, and they went crashing through the coffee table.
Wood split under Logan’s back, but he was already rolling, pinning Mack under him.
Quinn had the second guy in a chokehold, his arm locked tight around his throat. Sloane watched the stairs, making sure nobody else would interrupt.
Mack clawed at Logan’s forearm, cursing. “You think you’re an alpha now?” he spat, blood on his lips. “Just cause you fucked a bloodsucker?”
Logan didn’t answer. He drove his elbow into Mack’s jaw, hard enough to rock his head back.
Mack tried to knee him in the gut, but Logan was done playing. He shifted. Mack’s eyes went wide.
Logan tore into him, teeth ripping through Mack’s jacket, finding the muscle and bone beneath. Mack howled, tried to buck him off, but Logan just dug in harder, using raw wolf strength to keep the bastard pinned. He didn’t care about damage, didn’t care about noise.
Furniture splintered as Logan and Mack rolled over the remains of the coffee table. Logan’s wolf wanted to end it. He snapped, catching Mack’s bicep in his jaws and crushing down until he felt the bone give. Mack screamed.
Sloane and Quinn kept the other guy under control, but it only took a second. He wasn’t a fighter, just a scared kid in a hoodie. Sloane kicked him into the kitchen for safekeeping and sent Quinn to help Logan.
Mack fought back, wild and rabid with nothing to lose. He clawed at Logan’s face, gouged at his side, even got a handful of Logan’s hair and tried to rip it out. Didn’t matter.
Logan’s wolf was stronger.
He went for Mack’s throat, jaws snapping shut just below the ear. Hot blood flooded Logan’s mouth, tangy with iron and panic. Logan didn’t let go. He bit down, harder, crushing windpipe and artery all at once. Mack’s body spasmed, legs kicking, then went limp.
Logan barely registered
Silence filled the house. Logan spat out the mess in his mouth and shifted back, standing over the body. Mack’s eyes stared at the ceiling, already glassy. Logan went to the sink, wiped his face off with a dish towel, then stalked back into the room.
Quinn watched him with no judgment. Sloane nodded like it was done and there was nothing else to say.
They left Mack’s body where it lay. Maybe tomorrow somebody would call the cops, maybe not. Didn’t matter. Logan’s main concern was getting back to Nick.
Outside, Wade was waiting, leaning against the porch like nothing had happened. One look at Logan’s face said everything.
Sloane jerked his chin at the street. “Let’s go.”
Nobody spoke on the way back to the pack house. Quinn wiped blood on his jeans, but otherwise looked zero percent freaked. Wade drove slowly, his hands loose on the wheel like they’d just finished up a shift at the diner.
Logan didn’t bother washing up before heading inside. He climbed the stairs, his feet finding every creak in the steps. The house was dark. Nobody else was up.
He shouldered into the bedroom, closed the door, and dropped onto the bed. It was barely dawn, light leaking around the blackout curtains. Nick slept on, curled away from the door, his face soft, relaxed.
Logan watched his mate for a second, letting the tension leave his body.
He rolled over, careful not to jostle the mattress. Nick stirred, muttered something under his breath, then tucked his arm under the pillow.
For the first time in ages, Logan felt like it was safe here. There were no more threats, no more predators sniffing around the pack house, nobody looking to take what was his.
He covered Nick’s hip with one hand, just making sure his mate was warm and alive. The guy might sleep for another week, but he was safe.
Logan pulled him closer, just to feel the weight of him. He pressed his nose to Nick’s hair, breathing him in, letting that calm wolf satisfaction settle in.
Nick grumbled in his sleep. Logan could tell he was on his way to waking up but not quite yet. All the better. They had time.
Logan held his mate until he passed out himself, the last thought in his head being that Mack would never bother them again.
Quinn came to the door just before lunch, tapping once. He didn’t open it, just said, “It’s done.”
Logan said thanks then turned back to Nick.
His mate blinked awake, his eyes unfocused at first.
Nick groaned. “What time is it?”
“Close to noon.”
Nick made a noise. “Why’d you let me sleep this long?”
Logan leaned in and nipped at his ear. “You needed it.”
That answer seemed good enough. Nick stretched, his arms over his head, then rolled onto his back. He caught the stains on Logan’s shirt collar, the dried blood on his forearm.
Nick frowned. “You out murdering people, or did I miss a food fight?”
Logan grinned, all wolf. “Maybe both.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Please tell me Mack isn’t a problem anymore.”
“He’s not.”
Silence fell for a second, and then Nick grinned, slow and wide. “You’re scary when you get protective.”
Logan didn’t argue with that. He just went for Nick’s mouth, claiming him in a kiss that left no doubt who was top dog in this house.
Nick melted into it with no protest. There was no hunger this time, no desperation like before. Just relief and a weird happiness, like every part of him had been waiting for this moment.
Logan kept a hand on Nick’s belly, rubbing little circles there. He felt the new life growing, the promise of their future. The wolf in him howled with satisfaction.
Nick smiled, a real one, not broken or sarcastic. “You always come back?”
“Always,” Logan said.
Nick’s eyes softened. “It’s weird, but I believe you.”
He rested his cheek against Logan’s hand, closing his eyes. Logan just watched, content. Nothing needed fixing right now. There was no drama, no running, no yelling in the streets.
He’d killed for his mate, and he’d do it again.
For now, he had everything he wanted, right here in his arms.
THE END