Chapter 12
As fast as the heavy rain came, it stopped by the time they reached the car. Doug stood waiting, his worried eyes glued to Monica.
“Why don’t you guys come on back to my place?” Doug said as he pulled her in, giving her a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. “Ken is a mess, and Dena is quiet… too quiet. I think seeing her dad break is messing with her.”
“I have to get Knox,” Monica sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Then get Knox and do what you need to do there, then head back over.” Doug glanced at Kane, who only gave a single nod. “And bring Knox, because he’ll keep Dena busy.”
Monica nodded, and Kane guided her to the passenger side, opening the door and helping her slide in. The moment she was settled, he shut it gently and came back around to where Doug stood waiting at the driver’s door.
“Find who did this and kill them,” Doug said, voice cracking, a raw sob right behind the words. “Fuck the justice system. I don’t want to sit in a courtroom reliving any of this.”
“I will find them,” Was Kane’s only response. How he dealt with the son of a bitch would be between him and the bastard after he got all the information he needed. Unfortunately, this family wasn’t the only family affected.
Doug clapped a trembling hand on Kane’s shoulder before turning away, heading back to his car, where Ken and little Dena waited.
The pain Kane saw in all of their faces hit him somewhere deep in the dark places he usually kept locked up.
He wasn’t a sentimental man by any stretch, but watching a grown man crumble at losing his wife made something ugly twist inside him.
It also made him wonder—really wonder—how he would feel if he ever had a mate and lost her.
The wave of anger, grief, and a cold, brutal kind of fear hit him so hard his knees nearly buckled, sending him bumping back against the car.
“Jesus,” Kane muttered, eyes closing for a beat as he forced himself to get it together. He steadied his breathing, yanked the door open, and slid behind the wheel.
Starting the car, he glanced over at Monica, who sat staring at him. “I seem to keep having to thank you.” Monica’s voice was raspy with tears.
“You have nothing to thank me for.” Kane never liked being thanked, never knowing what to do with it. He did things because he wanted to. If he didn’t want to, he sure as hell wouldn’t. Simple as that.
But this woman… she had slid under his skin so damn fast it should’ve pissed him off.
Instead, he found himself liking it, liking her.
The spunk, the sass, that sharp tongue she used like a weapon, and the fierce, fearless way she loved her family.
If he was being honest, he was missing her sass and sharp tongue right now. He grinned at that thought.
She’d driven him crazy at first, and she would probably do it again, but he couldn’t deny the respect he had for her loyalty to her family.
If there was one thing Kane understood, it was loyalty.
He had no family other than his brother and sisters in the Guardians, and that was where his loyalty lay.
Monica sniffed and looked away. “You’re really a nice guy, aren’t you?”
Kane actually chuckled at that as he started the car and pulled out. “I’m an asshole, Monica.” He shot her a quick grin. “And do me a favor—don’t repeat the nice guy stuff to any Warrior or Guardian. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
He glanced over again and caught the small smile tugging at her full lips. Good, that’s what he was going for. And it didn’t change the fact: he really was an asshole. When he turned toward the expressway, she straightened in her seat.
“Where are you going?” she asked, a frown forming.
“To your place.” He slowed a little, confused. “I thought you wanted to get your dog before going back to your brother’s.”
“Don’t tell me I pulled one over on you.” Monica let out a genuine laugh.
“I highly doubt that,” Kane snorted, playing along. Anything to keep her from crying again.
“If you’re heading to 545 River View, then I definitely did.” Pride crept into her voice. “I live at 64 Ross Road, Kentucky. You need to turn around.”
Instead of turning around, he pulled into the nearest parking lot and put the car in park. “Hold on,” he said, turning toward her. “That’s your old address.”
“On paper, yes,” Monica said quietly. “Mr. Cooper, my neighbor—”
“The old dude?” Kane cut in, using Dena’s description from the night before.
“Yeah. Him.” A small smile flickered at the memory. “He’s a retired cop. I went to him for advice. He didn’t ask many questions; he just helped. And the deeper I got into all of this, the more involved he became. He made sure my home stayed a safe space.”
“You signed your property over to the old guy.” Kane didn’t ask the obvious; well, to him, it was obvious. He typed the new address into his phone and pulled back onto the road, heading in the opposite direction. Monica didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.
“I can give you directions,” she offered once they were moving again.
“Just relax. I’ve got it,” Kane said, stopping at a four-way.
Silence settled between them—heavy, but not uncomfortable. Rain tapped lightly against the windows, and Monica stared out at nothing. Kane didn’t push. He let her breathe, let her grieve.
Then her phone rang, slicing through the quiet. Digging through the bag at her feet, Monica pulled it out and checked. “What an asshole, piece of shit,” she snapped, tossing her still-ringing phone back into her bag.
“Who?” Kane asked, even though he had a damn good idea which piece of shit she meant.
“Farrar.” Monica hissed the name, shaking her head. “He knew I was burying my sister today. What is wrong with people?”
“I ask that question every single day,” Kane replied, tamping down the urge to find Neil Farrar and punch him in the face.
As they turned onto a gravel drive, a sense of calm settled over him.
It was a kind of quiet that only came with places tucked away from the rest of the world.
Through the lingering drizzle, he finally saw it.
Monica’s house. A modest ranch with a wide porch that looked out over a big front yard.
His gaze swept past it to the neighboring property, a house sitting closer to the tree line.
Probably the old guy’s place, he figured.
Before he could ask, the front door opened, and a brown-and-black dog stepped out, standing stiff and alert, staring him down.
“Knox, I take it?” Kane nodded toward the dog, who didn’t so much as blink.
“Yes.” Monica smiled as she reached for her bag. She barely got her door open before whistling sharply, and that broke Knox’s stillness. The dog bolted across the yard, kicking up wet gravel as he barreled straight for her.
Kane noticed movement at the doorway again—the old man, watching, but not the dog or Monica. He was eyeing him, and Kane liked him already. He was protective of Monica, which meant that a retired cop would keep an eye out for trouble.
His attention went back to Knox, who was circling Monica wildly, tail whipping the air, but still cutting him a side-eye like he hadn’t been cleared yet.
“Friend,” Monica told the dog gently, and just like that, Knox stopped sizing Kane up and went all in on her—sniffing, whining, and practically vibrating with joy.
“I’ve missed you, boy. Were you good for Mr. Cooper?
” She squatted to his level, rubbing Knox’s ears before wrapping her arms around him.
“Yes, he was,” Mr. Cooper called out as he walked toward them. “Best roommate I’ve ever had.”
“Good,” Monica said, getting up to hug the older man. “Thank you for keeping him for me.”
“I wish I could’ve done more.” Theo Cooper’s gaze shifted to Kane as he stuck out a hand. “Theo Cooper.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Kane said, taking the offered handshake. “Kane.”
“Sorry, that was rude of me,” Monica winced.
“Nah, we men can introduce ourselves.” Theo gave her a fond look, then focused back on Kane. “And call me Theo, not sir. So... you’re him. The Warrior. Monica told me about you.”
“I’m sure she did,” Kane smirked as Monica’s cheeks flushed. “Actually, I’m a Dark Guardian. Not a Warrior.”
“Ah, so the rumors were true.” Theo crossed his arms, giving Kane a once-over that told him the man didn’t miss much. “A few of us on the force always figured there were others out there besides the Warriors.”
“Is that so?” Kane lifted a brow. “You worked for Cincinnati Metro?”
“Sure did,” Theo said proudly. “From the day I graduated from the academy to the day I retired.”
“Then you’ve seen a lot.” Kane nodded respectfully.
“Son, I’ve seen it all and some of it I still can’t believe.” Theo shook his head, then chuckled. “You deal with demons, don’t you?” The man definitely didn’t beat around the bush; he was blunt and to the point.
“Mostly, yes.” Kane glanced toward Monica, who was throwing a stick for Knox like it was the first easy breath she’d taken all day.
“Well, let me tell you,” Theo said, lowering his voice like he was sharing classified information.
“I had a run-in with one of those things once. Nasty bastard. Smelled like death and looked worse. I thought I was done for until some big vampire came out of nowhere and saved my sorry ass. I asked him if he was a Warrior. He said, and I quote, ‘fuck no,’ and then vanished. Never got a name.”
Kane laughed. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Every Guardian I know reacts the same way when they’re mistaken for Warriors.”
“Dark Guardians.” Theo scratched at his chin. “Name fits. Why aren’t you fellas known like the Warriors?”
“We prefer it that way,” Kane said with a smirk. “And humans have an easier time handling vampires than demons running loose.”
“I’ve met a few scary vampires in my day. But I won’t bore you with old-man stories.” His expression softened when Monica walked back over. “If you need anything, let me know.”
“I will.” She kissed his whiskered cheek. “Same goes for you.”
“You be careful, Monica. I’m glad you have someone like him on your side.” Theo’s voice dipped low with sympathy. “And I’m really sorry about Beverly.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Now go on,” he said, backing away. “I won’t keep you any longer.”
“I’m heading to my brother’s with Knox,” Monica said, brightening a little. “But why don’t you come over tomorrow for an early dinner?”
Theo lit up like Christmas. “You know I’ve never turned down a meal.” He bent to pat Knox’s head. “I’ll see you then.”
Theo gave a final wave and headed back toward his porch, leaving Monica and Kane alone except for Knox, who trotted proudly at Monica’s side like he was escorting royalty.
“Come on,” Monica said softly. “Let’s get inside. I want to feed Knox and change, then we can go.”
Kane followed her in, the door creaking softly, a sound that felt fitting somehow. Monica didn’t live in a place that tried too hard. No need for curated perfection or trendy bullshit. The house had a quiet ease, warm and lived in.
The living room was small, but everything had a purpose.
A worn couch with a throw blanket draped as if she’d actually used it, not staged.
A coffee table with a tiny chip at one corner that she clearly didn’t give a damn about.
It was the kind of space that didn’t apologize for not being bigger or fancier.
It simply existed, steady and comfortable. He respected the hell out of that.
Knox barreled past them like a dog on a mission and slammed his face into his water bowl, drinking so aggressively that it echoed through the room. Monica tossed her bag onto the couch and exhaled, the tension bleeding from her shoulders now that she was finally home.
“Nice place,” Kane said.
“Thanks.” She pulled open a closet and came out with Knox’s food bag, refilling the empty bowl beside the water. She set the bag on the counter and took in the room with a soft, almost wistful look. “It’s home.”
It was more than that, he realized. This was her safe zone. Her soft place to land. It showed in her face as she stood there looking more relaxed than he had ever seen her.
Knox wandered back to him, his tail low and eyes curious. Kane crouched and held out a hand. The dog sniffed, then pushed his head right into Kane’s palm like he’d been waiting all day for this exact moment.
Monica’s eyebrows lifted. “Wow. He never warms up to people this fast.” A small smile touched her mouth. “He likes you.”
Kane looked at her instead of the dog. Her smile hit different.
It was fragile at the edges, red-rimmed eyes giving away the storm beneath.
She loved this animal. She loved hard, period; he knew that for a fact after seeing her with her family and her neighbor.
And anyone who threatened her, or anyone she loved, would be dead with no hesitation on his part and no second thoughts.
“Okay,” she said with a loud sigh. “Let me change, and then I’ll be ready.”
“Take your time.”
She disappeared down the hall, and Knox trotted after her, abandoning Kane without shame. He didn’t mind. It gave him a moment.
The house smelled faintly of vanilla and something citrus. Clean but not sterile. A small shelf near the TV caught his eye. Framed photos sat showing snapshots of a life she used to have. Kane moved closer.
The first picture he picked up showed Monica laughing, head tipped back, sunlight catching her hair. Her sister stood beside her, both of them mid-laugh. That kind of joy didn’t come from posing; it came from feeling safe, loved, and whole.
His jaw tightened. He had never seen her smile like that, which was a shame.
Another photo showed her with what looked like a group of friends at some outdoor festival, a drink in her hand, cheeks flushed from the sun. She looked happy and carefree.
A third picture elicited a growl from his throat. Monica tucked tightly against a man’s side, his arm wrapped around her like he thought he had a right to her. The guy wasn’t her brother or brother-in-law. Kane’s fingers curled around the frame.
He didn’t know the dude, but he already didn’t like him. Hell, he wanted to track his smug face down and knock his teeth in. No logical reason, but the instinct was there, hot and immediate, coiled under his skin.
He knew it wasn’t his place to feel that way, but the reaction was real, and he didn’t bother pretending it wasn’t.
He set the picture back down, harder than necessary, and glanced toward the hallway where Monica was changing.
Grief had carved lines into her face today.
She was carrying the weight of her sister’s disappearance and now death, but these photos told the truth: she wasn’t built to stay broken.
And if Kane had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t.