Chapter 46
Finn
She’s walking toward me.
Willow.
Hair soft from a shower, cheeks pink from ice cream, and that mouth…God, that mouth is still slick from the cone she was so innocently licking inside that shop, as if she didn’t know she was killing me with every flick of her tongue.
My pulse ticks higher with every step she takes. Carson's trailing behind her, shoulders tense, expression unreadable, but I only have eyes for her.
My little fire.
She’s coming to me.
She chose to cross the street, to come to me with that wild look still glowing in her eyes. And I feel it, that invisible connection to her tightening, pulling her closer, bringing her exactly where she’s supposed to be.
Where she wants to be.
I take a step forward.
Then another.
I reach for her—fingers outstretched, hungry for her skin, the silk of her wrist, the place just beneath her jaw that I kissed yesterday.
But I never make it.
Because he steps in.
Carson slides between us, a fucking wall, all taut muscle and glinting warning. His arm presses across her body instinctively, holding her back a step, protective in a way that’s not just duty, it’s personal.
His voice is quiet. “No touching.”
Willow hesitates, lips parting, about to say something, but she doesn’t.
She listens.
She listens to him.
She takes a single step back.
And it guts me.
My fingers twitch at my sides, jaw ticking as I force myself to look away from her and meet his eyes.
Still smug. Still reckless. Still too pretty to be this in control. I remember the way I shoved him in the locker room. The way his mouth claimed mine instead of pushing me back.
The way it lit something under my skin, something hot and desperate and dangerous. My gaze drops to his mouth now, and for just a second, I want to shove him again.
Harder.
I want to make him snap. Because he will break. And when he does, I’ll be right there, between him and Willow. Right where I belong.
I tilt my head, smirking just enough to needle him. “You sure you’re the one who should be telling people not to touch?”
His jaw flexes, nostrils flaring. Good. I take one more step forward, deliberately brushing too close. Willow sucks in a breath, her scent ghosting toward me on the night air. Peaches and cream and longing.
I could reach her in two strides. I could have her in my arms in one breath.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
Because this game is just getting started.
“Did you follow us?” Willow asks, her voice calm. Curious. Not afraid. Never afraid of me.
I turn my attention back to her, devouring every inch of her up close.
The way her mouth glistens from the last of her ice cream, her cheeks flushed from the cool night air—or maybe from me.
My fingers itch for my camera, the one I had to leave behind when Carson yanked her out of the apartment as though there was a damn fire.
I didn’t have time to grab anything. Just sprinted down the stairs and melted into the street crowd fast enough to follow.
I watched through the window, watched Carson charm her out of her sadness with soft touches and sweet looks, and that cocky smile he wears.
I also watched her other bodyguard kiss her—Graham. Press her up against the kitchen counter, devouring her as though he was starving for her. And then send her away.
Stupid alpha.
The way her shoulders curled in on themselves afterward, hurt and broken. That wasn’t okay. That made me want to pay him a visit.
Alphas who touch what they don’t intend to keep deserve consequences. Lessons. And I’m a very good teacher.
My fingers curl into fists at the thought, the phantom sensation of her skin under my hands already lighting up my nerves.
“Of course he did,” Carson cuts in, stepping forward just enough to put his body between mine and hers again. “That’s the definition of a stalker, peaches.”
Peaches.
That nickname again. So smug on his tongue. So intimate. My gaze flicks toward him, and I know he feels the shift. The way tension slithers into the air between us, coiling tight.
I lift my chin just enough to meet his eyes, unbothered. Daring.
“Funny,” I murmur pleasantly. “You didn’t mind when you found me in the locker room, Carson.”
His eyes darken. His jaw tightens. Willow shifts behind him, sensing it.
I wonder if she feels it too, that crackling current between Carson and me, the hunger that isn't just about her. It's all tied together now. All of us. But I keep my eyes on the alpha blocking my path.
I’m not going to touch her. Not yet.
But I will get closer.
“Carson, you promised,” Willow says.
Carson glances at her, his jaw tight, shoulders coiled, one second from dragging her away. But then he exhales. Slow. Controlled. And with visible reluctance, he steps aside.
Lets her come to me.
My little fire doesn’t hesitate. She steps forward, chin tilted up, and my chest tightens with something sweet.
There’s no mistaking it—her scent wraps around me, silk and heat.
Peaches and cream, laced with tension and something that smells a hell of a lot like want.
It has to be pouring from her for me to smell her so clearly.
I might not be able to pick up the softer notes, but the ability to pick up on the alpha musks in my life before saved me more times than I can count.
It heightened my senses, and right now I’m so glad for all of that, if only to smell her.
The city noise fades into the background, and I see only her.
“I read your file,” she says, soft but clear.
The words hit hard. I don’t flinch, but everything inside me locks up.
My file.
A clinical breakdown of everything they think I am—unstable, obsessive, too dangerous to ignore, too broken to trust. A killer.
I lick my lips, force my gaze to hold hers even as something inside me twists. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she repeats.
There’s no fear in her voice. No pity, either. Just truth. And fuck me, it undoes something in my chest.
I want to look away. Want to scoff and brush it off, act as though I don’t care.
But she read my file—the one that paints me as a monster. And she’s still standing here. Her expression unchanged, pretending the file isn’t right.
Her scent thickens. Desire and confusion tangled so tightly together that I can taste it on the back of my tongue. Carson’s watching from just a step away, but he’s not moving. Not yet.
“You know that file…” I say quietly, “It’s not the whole truth.”
“I know,” she whispers.
Two simple words. And they fucking gut me. No one’s ever said that to me before.
Not once.
The streetlights hum. A breeze lifts the ends of her hair, and I breathe her in because it’s the only thing keeping me alive. I take a step closer—close enough to brush my fingers against hers if I wanted to.
“I’d never hurt you, Willow.”
Her lips part, and her breath catches just enough to make my pulse spike.
I don’t touch her. But if she reaches for me? I’ll burn the world down to make sure no one ever takes her from me again.
“I know.”
Those two words again.
Soft. Unflinching. Certain.
She knows.
The corners of my mouth pull up, a smile threatening to take over. But I hold it back. We’re not done. Not yet. She knows the file, but not the why.
“I was left in the dark so long…” I swallow, eyes flicking away for just a second, needing space to breathe. “I forgot what the sun felt like.”
The weight of those words drags across my ribs, pressing down the chains that never really came off. I feel them even now. Cold. Heavy. Familiar.
“I did what I had to do to survive.”
It’s the closest I’ve ever come to explaining—to anyone. The barest truth, scraped raw and trembling between us. She doesn’t flinch.
Instead, she tilts her head, her gaze steady as she watches me.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. And I guess I’ll have to burn bright enough for both of us.”
My throat tightens, something sharp and hot behind my ribs.
Fuck.
“Little fire,” I breathe.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. The need to touch her is overwhelming—my fingers ache with it—but I don’t. Not with Carson a step away, watching, waiting, a silent wall between what I want and what I can’t have.
If I reach for her now, he’ll pull her back.
So I don’t move.
I just look at her.
Memorize her.
Let her words brand themselves across the broken, hidden parts of me.
Because if she really means it—if she burns for me the way I burn for her—then it’s already too late for all of them.
She’s mine.
And I’ll never let her go.