Chapter 6
Evie
Morning comes like nothing happened.
Sunlight spills across the cabin floor in pale stripes. Birds make noise outside. The world looks clean and normal, and it makes my skin itch.
Wolf left before I was fully awake. He kissed my forehead, told me he was meeting the club, told me he’d be back soon. Then he pressed a burner phone into my hand and closed my fingers around it.
“If you need anything, you call,” he said. “My number is already saved.”
I nodded and watched him leave, shoulders broad, the kind of man who walks out the door like the world has to behave.
The cabin is quiet without him.
My body is sore in a way that makes my cheeks heat when I shift. My mind keeps trying to go soft and dreamy, and I keep dragging it back to reality.
Voss.
My father.
The word agreement.
I stare at the burner phone until my chest tightens.
I shouldn’t call my father. I know what he is. I know what he did.
Still, there’s something rotten in me that wants to hear his voice. To hear him admit it. To hear him say he’s sorry without using my mother like a weapon.
I dial the number I know by heart.
It rings twice.
“Hello?” Dad’s voice is cautious.
“Dad,” I say.
Silence. Then a sharp inhale. “Evie?”
My throat burns. “Yeah.”
“Where are you?” he asks, too quick.
“Safe,” I answer.
He makes a small sound that could be bitter laughter. “Must be nice.”
I ignore it. “I’m calling because I want you to say it. I want you to tell me what you did.”
His breathing turns rough. “I made a mistake.”
“You tried to sell me,” I say, and my voice shakes anyway. “Say it.”
A long pause.
Then, barely audible, “I tried to sell you.”
My stomach twists. The words are ugly out loud. Worse than they were on paper.
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because I was scared,” he says, and it sounds like the truth and a lie at the same time. “Because I thought I could fix it. Because I’m an idiot.”
I should hang up.
I don’t.
“Are you drunk?” I ask.
“No,” he says quickly. “Evie, listen. He came back.”
Cold slides under my skin. “Who?”
“You know who,” Dad says, and fear cracks his voice. “Voss.”
My pulse spikes. “What happened?”
“He beat me,” Dad says, and the words come out raw. “He said you made him look stupid. He said you ruined everything. He tore the house apart. He smashed things, Evie. He said if I call the cops, he’ll come back and finish it.”
My fingers clamp around the phone.
“Call an ambulance,” I say.
“I can’t,” he whispers. “Please. I need you. I need help cleaning it. I can’t even look at the mess.”
Cleaning it. Of course.
He’s still asking me to fix what he broke.
Still, my chest aches at the sound of him hurting.
“Is there blood?” I ask, hating myself for caring.
“Yes,” he says fast. “Yes. Please, Evie.”
I close my eyes.
Wolf told me to stay.
Wolf told me Voss would not stop.
Wolf is not here, and the oldest part of me is tugging the leash again.
Dad’s breathing is wet on the line. “Evie?”
“I’m coming,” I say, and it tastes like a mistake.
Relief floods his voice. “Thank you. Thank you.”
I end the call and stand in the quiet cabin for a second, heart pounding too fast.
I swipe to Wolf’s number.
I call.
It rings and goes to voicemail.
I call again.
Voicemail.
My throat tightens.
I stare at the burner in my hand like it betrayed me.
I write a note on the kitchen counter.
Dad says Voss hurt him. I’m going to check.
Evie
My handwriting looks shaky.
I call a cab from the burner and give my father’s address.
The ride into town feels wrong. Morning traffic is light. People are out walking dogs, sipping coffee, living normal lives. My hands twist in my lap until my fingers ache.
When the cab pulls up to my father’s house, my stomach drops.
The porch light is still on. The curtains are drawn. The place looks normal.
Too normal.
I pay the driver and step onto the porch.
I knock once.
No answer.
I knock again, harder.
“Dad?”
Silence.
My pulse spikes. I reach for the doorknob.
It turns.
The door opens.
The living room is clean. Couch cushions straight. Coffee table wiped down. Floor vacuumed. My mother’s photo on the shelf, perfectly angled.
My blood goes cold.
This isn’t a wrecked house.
I step back. This is a trap.
A voice comes from the hallway, smooth and calm.
“Evie.”
I spin.
Voss stands there like he belongs in the light of my father’s house. Coat on. Hands relaxed. Smile polite.
My heart slams against my ribs.
“You tricked me,” I snap.
“I did what I had to do,” he says. “Come inside.”
“Where’s my father?” I demand.
His smile doesn’t move. “Alive.”
That word is a warning in his mouth.
I lift the burner. “I’m calling the police.”
He moves fast.
One step and the phone is ripped from my hand. It hits the wall with a hard crack and drops to the floor in pieces.
My breath catches.
Then his fingers close around my wrist, crushing.
Pain shoots up my arm. “Let go.”
“You made this messy,” he says softly. “You made me come into that bar and watch you climb into another man’s lap.”
“I’m not yours,” I hiss, twisting, trying to pull free.
His grip tightens. “You are.”
He yanks me toward the hallway.
Panic rises so fast my vision narrows.
I kick at his shin.
He grunts and the calm cracks. “Enough.”
He drags me harder.
Then engines roar outside.
Not one.
Several.
Heavy and loud and close enough to rattle the windows.
Voss freezes.
So do I.
Wolf fills the doorway. Face set in that calm that scares me more than shouting ever could. Two patched men move in behind him, spreading out like they know exactly where to stand.
Wolf’s gaze locks on Voss’s hand on my wrist.
“Let her go,” Wolf says.
His voice is steady. Final.
Voss forces a smile. “You’re persistent.”
Wolf takes one step forward, and the air in the room changes.
“Hands off my woman,” Wolf says.
Heat hits my chest at my woman, sharp and fierce.
Voss scoffs. “She isn’t yours.”
Wolf doesn’t blink. “Let. Her. Go.”
Voss tightens his grip like he wants to test him.
Wolf moves fast. He rips Voss’s hand off me, then drives a punch into his jaw. Voss staggers back with a sharp sound.
Wolf steps between us immediately, body a wall. His arm hooks around my waist and pulls me beside him.
“You okay?” he murmurs, low enough only I can hear.
I nod, shaking. “He broke the phone.”
Wolf’s jaw flexes. “I see that.”
One of the patched men lifts his own phone. “Sheriff Morris is on the way.”
Voss’s eyes flick around the room, calculating. Alone. Outnumbered. Trapped.
“You called the cops,” he snarls.
“We’ve got proof. You weren’t just collecting debt. You were selling girls.”
Voss’s smile cracks. “That’s a lie.”
“Tell it to Morris,” Wolf replies.
My throat tightens. “Where is my dad?”
Wolf doesn’t look away from Voss. “Back room.”
One of the men disappears down the hall. A door opens. A muffled sound. Then his voice carries back.
“He’s tied up. Breathing.”
My knees go weak.
Wolf’s hand tightens at my waist, keeping me upright. “Breathe, angel.”
Sirens sound outside, getting closer.
Sheriff Morris arrives moments later, voice steady as he steps into the living room. He’s older, solid, eyes sharp.
He takes one look at Voss, then at my wrist.
“Ma’am,” Morris says. “Are you injured?”
“He grabbed me,” I say, and my voice shakes anyway.
Morris nods once. “All right.”
Then he looks up at Voss. “Mr. Voss. Hands behind your back.”
Voss tries to smile. “This is a misunderstanding.”
Morris’s voice stays flat. “Hands behind your back.”
Voss hesitates.
Wolf doesn’t move. He doesn’t have to.
Morris cuffs him. The click is loud in the room.
Relief hits me so hard my eyes sting.
They bring my dad out a minute later. Bruised. Lip split. Wrists red. Eyes smaller than I remember.
He meets my gaze and flinches.
“Evie,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”
The old part of me tries to step forward.
I hold still.
Wolf’s hand stays at my waist, steady.
I look at my father and feel something hard settle in my chest.
“You did this,” I say quietly.
Dad’s face crumples. “Please.”
I shake my head once. “No more.”
Sheriff Morris clears his throat. “Ma’am, I’ll need your statement.”
“I’ll give it,” I say.
Wolf leans in, voice low. “I’m not leaving your side.”
I look up at him. His eyes are hard, but his touch is careful.
“I know,” I whisper.
Morris escorts Voss toward the door.
Voss turns his head just enough to look at me. The polite mask is gone. What’s left is ugly.
“This isn’t over,” he says.
Wolf steps forward half a pace. “It is.”
Morris pushes him out the door.
My lungs finally drag in a full breath.
Wolf’s hand tightens at my waist again.
“Let’s go back,” he says.
Back to the cabin. Back to safe.
Dad whispers my name behind me.
I don’t turn.
Wolf’s voice drops, only for me. “You don’t owe him anything.”
My throat tightens. “I know.”
This time, I mean it.
Wolf guides me to the door, his body between me and the past.
And I go.