Chapter 38 Carson
Carson
The fire of our combined lust is gone, burned to embers, but the warmth lingers. My body feels wrung out in the best way, my limbs heavy, my skin thrumming where Graham’s hands have been. I blink up at the ceiling, my breath still slowing, my body sinking into the mattress…it’s part of me now.
Then I feel him.
A steady hand ghosts over my side, fingers trailing down my ribs before slipping beneath me, coaxing me closer. I go willingly, turning into his chest, letting him tuck me into his heat. Graham’s scent is grounding—brown sugar and coffee, something solid when everything else is wild and uncertain.
His fingers trace lazy patterns against my back, slow and gentle, reminding himself I’m here. That I let him take me apart, and now he has to put me back together.
This is the part people don’t understand. They see the scratches on my knees, the marks on my skin, and think that is what I crave. But this? This is what I need.
Because Graham and I? We’re the same. Two sides of a rusted, fucked-up coin.
Same trauma. Same past.
We just deal with it differently.
I need to give up control. To hand it over.
Let someone else make the calls, shoulder the weight.
Because when I was younger, control was all I had.
I held everything together with white-knuckled fists, protecting scraps that were barely mine.
I gripped too tight for too long. Now? I need to let go.
Graham’s the opposite. He has to hold the reins until his knuckles bleed.
Needs the grip, the certainty, the illusion no one can yank the ground out from under him again.
Because he knows what it feels like to have control ripped away, to be left helpless.
And he swore—on what little he had left—that no one would ever put him there again.
We never talk about it. We don’t have to.
We understand.
Which is why I let him have this. Let him take me apart in all the ways he needs to, knowing I’ll let him do it again when he needs it next.
And I know, deep in my fucking bones, that Graham staying away from Willow is killing him.
Because while I let go, while I let my body take what it needs, Graham holds back. He always fucking holds back. It’s why I push at him, poke him until he wants to punish me for it. He needs the release as much as I do. That and deflection and jokes are my armor, while his is full control.
“She begged, you know.”
His whole body locks, tension snapping through him, a wire pulled too tight.
I smile into his skin, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek. “Willow,” I add, as if he doesn’t already know who she is.
His breath shudders out, barely controlled.
“Begged me,” I add, just to twist the knife.
His fingers tighten in my hair. A warning.
I hum. “You’re stronger than me.”
“Obviously,” he mutters.
I chuckle, tilting my head up, watching his profile in the dim light. “I would’ve folded for her the second she gave me those eyes she gives you.”
His jaw clenches, his throat working.
I press my lips against his skin, soothing the tension there. “You really gonna be able to hold out?”
Another exhale, another beat of silence.
Then—
“She’s not ready.”
I don’t argue. Because for all the shit I give him, all the ways I press his buttons, I know Graham.
When he gives in to something, it’s absolute.
When he finally lets himself have Willow? It won’t be just for one night. So I just close my eyes, letting him hold me, letting the silence settle between us.
Because that will be something to see. And I can wait for it.
“Walking just fine. How’s sitting?” Hunter snaps the second we round the corner, arms crossed over his chest. Dry, sharp, all edge. He’s had a long night playing babysitter to our little flight risk, and it shows.
He’s posted up by her apartment door, shoulders tense, refusing to step inside. Too much for him. Too close.
“Jealous?” I shoot back, brow arched, smirk locked in. I don’t need his answer—I can already see it.
He scoffs, shakes his head, but his jaw ticks. I know him too well. He’d rather be home with us, blowing off steam, than stuck here pretending to play saint.
Not that any of us are saints.
I roll my shoulders, phantom ache from last night still in my muscles. I slept like the dead. Graham? Not so much. Woke up wound tighter than before, storm still gnawing at him. Getting off didn’t cut it. Maybe I should remind him how good it felt. Maybe I should—
A laugh slips out, amused at my own thought.
Hunter’s glare snaps to me, hard, like I aimed it straight at him.
Which, really, it works, so I just shrug and don’t explain myself.
Graham sighs. “How’s Willow?”
Hunter shifts his weight, rolling his neck. “As angry as a wet cat.”
I huff out a laugh. “And how’s the lock holding up?”
Hunter lifts a brow. “Intact. For now.”
For now.
She must’ve tested it.
A thrill shoots through me because that means she thought about sneaking out. And I’d bet everything that she thought about sneaking straight to Finn. That’s going to be a problem. I don’t like it.
And I really don’t like how much it turns me on that she’s stubborn enough to try.
Graham exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Did she get any sleep?”
Hunter scoffs. “Tossed and turned most of the night. I heard her pacing more than once. Probably thinking of new ways to murder us.”
“Sexy.” I grin.
Hunter doesn’t even crack a smirk. “She called her dad.”
That wipes the smile from my face.
Graham stills. “When?”
“Right after I gave her back her phone.” Hunter’s expression tightens. “It sounded like World War Three was happening in there.”
I blink. “That bad?”
Hunter nods. “Mr. Delong shut her down. Hard. I don’t think she expected that.”
A pang of something I don’t want to name hits my chest.
Willow always gets what she wants. Always finds a way. Always charms, manipulates, fights, wins. I know that just being around her for the short time I have.
But not this time.
This time, the one person who has always been in her corner—the one person who would burn the world down for her—was the one reinforcing the walls she’s trying to break through. Walls we created. We are the enemy to her right now.
Graham shakes his head. “She’s going to push harder.”
I nod, rolling my shoulders. “I’d be disappointed if she didn’t.”
Hunter’s expression darkens. “She’s not just pushing to test limits, Carson. She’s looking for weaknesses.”
His words hit hard. Because we all know what that means. She’s looking for the crack in our armor. She’s looking for the way out. She’s still trying to convince herself that we’re the problem, not Finn.
If we don’t shift this dynamic soon, she will find a way to slip through our fingers. I don’t plan on letting that happen.
“So—why don’t we give her a weakness?” I say, stretching my arms behind my head, casual as hell, even if it’s a crazy fucking idea. “She already knows you two don’t approve of what I did—with her.”
The words hang. Heavy. Both of them tense. Exactly what I wanted.
Predictably, Hunter’s shoulders bunch, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Graham goes completely still.
I bite back a smirk. Too easy.
“But I can be that weakness,” I continue.
Hunter’s brows lower, a deep line forming between them. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Maybe even help her get to Finn…like a play date,” I say, not really answering him.
Hunter stares at me like I’ve just sprouted a second head. His nostrils flare slightly, and I know he’s seconds from snapping at me. Graham tenses. The only sign he’s even alive is that little muscle ticking in his jaw.
“A play date?” Hunter echoes, his voice flat. “You just going to sit on the couch while they play?” He blinks at me, slowly.
I roll my shoulders, keeping my tone casual. “She isn’t going to do anything with him.”
Hunter snorts. “You sound real sure about that.”
I am sure. Finn is playing a long game. He wants her, but he’s patient. And Willow likes the attention, but she’s also fighting it.
If I put her too close to him, if I give her just enough space to see exactly how far gone he is—maybe she’ll realize we’re not the enemy here.
I let the silence stretch before I continue, because I want them both really thinking about it. “She wants Finn. We all know it. But she also doesn’t fully trust him. Not yet.” I shift my weight, keeping my voice even. “I can be her in.”
Hunter crosses his arms, rolling his shoulders, already hating this. Graham just stares, his jaw tight, unreadable.
“It could help her see how crazy he is,” I finish.
Hunter tilts his head, considering. I shoot Graham a look.
That tendon in his jaw ticks again. His gaze flicks to me, then past me. He’s already running every possible scenario in his head, looking for the outcome that keeps Willow alive and untouched.
Then he nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “That could work.”
I blink. “That could work?” I repeat, just to make sure I heard him right.
He’s agreeing with me.
Graham—Mr. No Bullshit, No Risks, No Playing Games—is agreeing with me.
Warmth spreads in my chest. Sometimes, I do have good fucking ideas.
Hunter shakes his head. “So what? We just let you play the bait? He’s dangerous. You’ve read his file.”
I roll my eyes. “Actually, Willow is the bait, whether we let it happen or not.”
His nostrils flare, jaw ticking as his gaze flicks between me and Graham, waiting for him to shut this down.
Graham exhales slowly through his nose. “It’s not a terrible idea,” he finally mutters.
“That guy kills alphas,” Hunter scoffs. “It’s insane.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” Graham lifts his brows. “But it might be the only way to get her to see Finn for what he really is.”
Hunter’s shoulders tense. He doesn’t like it. He hates it. But he doesn’t immediately shoot it down.
Which means I’m making progress.
I smirk. “C’mon, Hunt, don’t act like you don’t see the value here.
She wants him.” His fingers curl into fists, and I hold up my hands before he can deck me.
“I didn’t say she loves him. But she’s drawn to him.
And you and I both know that you can’t force an omega to break that kind of bond—not with logic. She has to see it for herself.”
Hunter grinds his teeth so hard, I swear I hear it crack.
Graham nods once, firm. “He’s right.”
“He’s right?” Hunter barks a humorless laugh, his frustration snapping. “So we just hand her over? Just sit back and let Finn—”
“We don’t hand her over,” I cut in. “We control it.”
Hunter exhales hard through his nose, still pissed. Still resisting.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “You know her, Hunt. If we keep forcing her into a corner, she’s going to run or murder us herself.” I glance at Graham. “And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather she run toward us than away. That and I enjoy breathing.”
That lands.
Graham’s expression tightens, his mind clearly working through the logistics. He hates not having control, but he also knows I’m right.
Hunter’s jaw flexes. His pulse ticks in his throat. He drags a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off of him in waves. “And if it backfires? If she doesn’t see what we want her to see?”
I smirk. “Then we handle it. Like we always do.”
Hunter mutters something under his breath before shooting Graham a look. “We better handle it.”
Graham nods once, sharp and decisive. “We will.”
A beat of silence.
Then I clap my hands together. “Great. Let’s go put this plan in motion.”
Hunter groans. “Oh yeah, this will go over real well.”