Chapter 23
SAWYER
I wake slowly, wrapped in warmth and the tangle of heavy limbs. For one hazy moment, I think maybe I dreamed it all—until I feel Jasper’s breath on my shoulder, his arm a steel band across my waist, and Riot’s legs entwined with mine.
Sunlight cuts through the curtains, making dust shimmer in the air. Riot’s blonde hair tickles my cheek; he’s sprawled on his stomach, face buried in the pillow, mumbling something about coffee. Jasper stirs behind me, his hand flexing possessively on my hip.
I smile, letting myself enjoy it for once.
Jasper nuzzles into my neck, voice still rough with sleep. “Are you alive?”
“Barely,” I croak, the ache between my thighs a delicious reminder of everything that happened. “You two nearly killed me.”
Riot snorts, finally surfacing, blue eyes glittering with mischief. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I elbow him, but it just makes him laugh. He stretches, muscles flexing, then glances at Jasper. “Hey, Reign, are you still traumatized about our dicks touching?”
Jasper grumbles, but there’s no bite. “Shut up, Riot.”
Riot grins, wicked. “Bet you’re never gonna look at me the same way.”
Jasper lifts his head, eyes narrowed, but I can see the softness in his gaze as he looks at me. “For her, I’ll survive.”
I roll my eyes, cuddling closer. “If you two are done measuring egos, I’d like breakfast.”
Riot perks up. “Pancakes?”
Jasper tightens his hold on me, making a show of pulling me against his chest. “Not until I get five more minutes with her. I earned it.”
I laugh, melting between them, feeling the kind of safe that tastes like hope. Riot sighs, feigning dramatic heartbreak as he buries his face in my hair. “Fine, I’ll just starve right here. Don’t mind me.”
I reach behind, grabbing his hand, holding both of theirs at my waist. “You’re both ridiculous.”
Jasper kisses the shell of my ear. “And you love it.”
And as the morning sun spills over the three of us, I realize I do.
A few minutes later, I try to move, but Jasper growls and pulls me tighter, burying his face in my hair. “You’re not going anywhere yet.”
“Someone’s clingy,” I tease, trying to wiggle free. Riot immediately snags my ankle under the covers.
“I heard movement. That means it’s officially time for pancakes,” Riot says, voice muffled in the pillow. “C’mon, Hellcat. Save me from dying of hunger.”
Jasper grunts, but his fingers slide up and down my thigh in lazy circles. “You’ll survive. She needs to recover. You two kept me up all damn night.”
“Liar,” I snort, nudging him with my hip. “You looked like you were having a pretty good time.”
Riot cackles, finally sitting up, hair wild and sticking out everywhere. “Yeah, Reign, don’t pretend you didn’t love every second—especially the part where—”
Jasper throws a pillow at his head before he can finish, and Riot dodges, grinning. “Violence! Typical.”
I giggle and finally roll out from between them, landing on the floor in a heap of oversized shirts and messy hair. Both of them watch me like I might try to escape.
I shoot them a smug look. “Last one to the kitchen has to make the coffee.”
Riot launches himself off the bed, stumbles over his jeans, and yelps. Jasper is slower, stretching, watching us both with that lazy predator’s grin. “I’ll just wait till you two destroy the kitchen, then come rescue you.”
I stick my tongue out and dart down the hall, Riot hot on my heels, both of us laughing as we dodge a stray drumstick and the mountain of sneakers by the door.
As soon as we round the corner into the kitchen, Ash is already there, sipping coffee and looking way too awake. He lifts an eyebrow, gaze flicking between the three of us, and a sly smile tugs at his mouth.
“Good morning, lovers,” Ash drawls. “Rough night?”
Riot leans in, stage-whispering, “Reign got a little emotional.”
Jasper strides in, ruffling his hair, voice bone dry. “Shut up, Riot. And make the coffee.”
I duck behind the counter, cheeks burning, but I can’t stop grinning. The kitchen fills up with noise—teasing, laughter, the familiar chaos of our messed-up little family.
For the first time, it feels easy. It feels as though we could make this work.
Jasper slides up behind me, hand at my lower back, voice just for me. “You okay?”
I nod, feeling the weight of his hand and Riot’s soft smile across the room. “Yeah. I’m excellent.”
I’m just feeling normal again—laughing at Ash’s sarcasm, stealing a mug of coffee from Riot—when my phone buzzes on the counter. Once. Twice. Then again and again, rapid-fire, vibrating loudly against the marble.
I frown—unknown number.
My stomach twists as I open the first text.
It’s a photo—Riot, Jasper, and me in the haunted house, his hand around my waist, my head tipped back in pleasure—Riot watching. The next one hits before I can even breathe. I’m sitting on Jasper’s bike in the garage, Riot’s on his knees as Jasper watches.
I scroll, fingers numb, dread creeping up my spine.
Another: all three of us in the pool, water beading on our skin, Jasper and Riot bracketing me on either side. The next: a blurry shot, but there’s no mistaking it. Riot kissing my neck as Jasper’s hand fists in my hair.
My breath catches, vision tunneling. The last text comes in just as I think I can’t take any more.
It’s from outside Jasper’s bedroom window—last night—the curtains barely parted, but the angle’s clear. Me, tangled between both of them, skin bare, Jasper’s head pressed to my neck, Riot’s hand at my hip. Whoever took it was close. So close.
Bile rises in my throat. My hands shake so badly I almost drop the phone.
Jasper’s voice cuts through the haze. “Sawyer? What’s wrong?”
I swallow, shoving the phone toward him and Riot. “Look. Someone’s been watching us. Following us.”
Riot’s jaw clenches as he scrolls, eyes darkening with every image. Jasper’s whole body goes rigid, knuckles white around my phone.
He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. The air in the kitchen shifts—warmth turning razor sharp, the safe cocoon ripped away in a single heartbeat.
Riot pulls me to his side, voice low, lethal. “Who the fuck is doing this?”
Jasper’s glare is pure threat, murder in his eyes as he scans each photo, already working out how to hunt them down. “Nobody gets that close to you. Not again.”
My heart pounds, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. Outside, the world keeps spinning. But in here, everything has changed.
JASPER
The second I see those photos, everything inside me goes cold. Not fear or anger. Rage. The kind that starts low and tight in my gut and spreads, white-hot and blinding. Someone got close. Too close. Close enough to watch us at our most vulnerable. Close enough to know I’d kill for her.
Sawyer’s shaking, Riot’s got his arm around her, but I can’t stand still. Not with this kind of threat circling. I press a kiss to her forehead—gentler than I feel—and slip out of the kitchen, my phone clutched in my fist.
I find Silas in the living room, feet up, flicking through channels like nothing’s wrong. He glances up, catches the look on my face, and all the lazy big brother energy evaporates.
“What happened?” he asks, voice low.
I hand him the phone. He scrolls, eyes narrowing with every swipe. By the time he looks back at me, his jaw’s locked tight.
“You recognize any of these locations?” I ask.
He nods, grim. “Somebody’s been following you for days. Even on your property.”
“Who?” My voice comes out raw, barely controlled.
He tosses the phone onto the table. “I know some people. I’ll make some calls. We’ll get a name. Don’t do anything stupid till I say so.”
I grit my teeth, but nod. “We need eyes on the house. I want to know if they’re watching us now.”
Silas is already reaching for his phone, muttering into the receiver as he moves to the window, eyes scanning the street like he’s hunting ghosts.
But it’s not enough. I need more—now. I dial Micah. He answers on the third ring, all sleepy and static.
“Yo, what’s up?” he mumbles. Must still be at his parents’ place.
“Micah, I need you at the house. Now. Someone’s stalking Sawyer. We’ve got pictures—lots of them. You’re the only one I trust to find this fucker.”
I hear rustling—he’s already moving. “Text me the number. Forward everything. I’ll run a trace before I hit the road.”
“Thanks, man,” I say, all the emotion boiling under my skin. “Drive safe.”
I hang up, run both hands through my hair, fighting the urge to punch a hole in the nearest wall. If I get my hands on whoever did this—
Across the hall, I hear Sawyer’s voice, low and frantic, calling for Macee. I want to go to her, but I force myself to wait. She needs her friend. I need to keep her safe, even if that means letting go for five fucking minutes.
Silas glances at me, his tone all business now. “Micah’s got this. You—don’t let her out of your sight once she’s back.”
I nod, the promise already made in my head. Whoever’s watching—whoever thinks they can get this close—I’m going to make them regret ever breathing the same air as her.
RIOT
I can barely sit still. Every muscle in my body is wired, twitchy, ready for a fight that hasn’t even started yet. I keep checking the windows, the door, every shadow in the backyard. My skin crawls remembering those photos—how fucking close someone got. How I didn’t notice.
Sawyer’s still with Macee, her voice muffled and shaky down the hall. Jasper’s a storm about to break, Silas is all business, and I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin when the front door finally opens.
Micah walks in, laptop bag slung over his shoulder, hoodie half zipped, and hair a mess. He barely looks at us before dropping his bag on the coffee table and yanking out his computer.
“All right, who pissed off the wrong psycho this time?” Micah says, plugging in cords with the kind of calm that makes me want to scream.
Jasper tosses him the phone. “Start with the number. Track it, trace it, do whatever it takes.”