15. Ren
Chapter 15
Ren
T he headlights cut through the darkness ahead, illuminating a scene that stops my heart. Caldwell, standing in the road, one hand clutching his groin, blood seeping between his fingers. And behind him, a flash of movement—pale skin, familiar curves—Hailey.
“Stop the car,” I order the beta, my voice deadly calm.
He slams on the brakes, the vehicle skidding slightly on the gravel road. I’m out before we’ve fully stopped, dimly aware of the beta scrambling from the driver’s seat and disappearing into the forest. Smart man. I have bigger concerns.
Caldwell glances my way. “Good. It’s about time?—”
His words die in his throat, his eyes widening in disbelief, the sneer replaced by raw, unadulterated terror. He stares at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, unable to reconcile the figure before him with the man he thought he’d left broken and defeated.
Genuine fear flashes across his face. “Ironwood?” he gasps. “How?—”
My gaze drops to his hand, still clutching himself. Blood seeps through his fingers, staining his trousers. Hailey’s work, I’m guessing. Pride flares momentarily before being consumed by rage.
Did he touch her ? Fuck…did he knot her? Make her bleed? The questions burn through my mind like acid, each worse than the last.
Caldwell takes a stumbling step backward, then turns, lunging for his vehicle. Not fast enough. I’m on him in three strides, grabbing him by the back of his jacket and throwing him to the ground.
“Please,” he wheezes, crawling backwards like a crab. “Ren, be reasonable?—”
“Reasonable?” The word tastes like poison. I advance on him slowly, deliberately. “Was it reasonable when you took her from the gala? When you pumped her full of drugs?”
“That wasn’t me. That was that bitch, Heath. I hadn’t wanted to take her right there and then. I wanted to wait.” Maybe it’s the coldness in my eyes. The fact I don’t give a fuck whose fault it is, and it shows. Because he sputters, continuing. “It’s business,” he insists, his voice high with panic. “Just business. You know how this works. Your father?—”
“Don’t.” My boot connects with his ribs, cutting off whatever he was about to say. “Don’t you dare mention Father.”
Caldwell curls into himself, gasping for breath. When he looks up at me, there’s a desperate calculation in his eyes. “We’ve known each other for years ,” he says. “I was at your graduation, for God’s sake. Your mother invited me to Christmas dinner.”
The memory hits harder than it should. Caldwell, smiling, bringing expensive wine and clapping Father on the back like they were old friends. Which they were, I suppose.
“You’re going against everything your family built,” he continues, sensing my hesitation. “The connections, the legacy?—”
My fist silences him, connecting with his jaw hard enough to snap his head back. “My legacy,” I snarl, grabbing him by the collar, “is not their legacy.”
I hit him again. And again. Blood sprays from his split lip, spattering across my knuckles. Part of me is horrified at what I’m becoming, at how easily violence flows from me. But a larger part—the part that saw Hailey drugged and terrified—doesn’t care.
“She’s just an omega,” Caldwell gasps between blows. “One of many. You can find another?—”
Something in me snaps. I haul him up by his shirt front, bringing his face close to mine. “She’s not just an omega,” I growl. “She’s mine .”
The admission surprises even me. I’ve been fighting the truth for so long, afraid of what it means, of what might happen if I accept it. But here, with her scent still lingering in the air and her blood on this monster’s hands, I can’t deny it anymore.
Hailey is mine. My omega. My scent match. My mate .
And this man tried to take her from me.
I throw Caldwell to the ground again, aiming the gun. He sees the movement, panic flooding his features.
“Wait!” he screams. “I can make this right! Money—I’ll pay you double what I paid Heath. Triple!”
Movement in my peripheral vision. The beta driver who’d been with Caldwell didn’t chase after Hailey far. He’s returned, and he rounds the vehicle, gun drawn.
I don’t think. I just react. My weapon is up and firing before he can aim properly. The bullet catches him between the eyes, and he drops like a stone.
Caldwell uses the distraction to scramble away, but he’s too slow, too injured. I catch him by the ankle, dragging him back.
“Please,” he sobs, all dignity gone now. “Please, Ren. I’ve known you since you were a boy?—”
“And you’ve been a monster all that time,” I say quietly, pressing the gun to his temple. “I just didn’t know it yet.”
His eyes widen. “Ren?—”
I pull the trigger.
Click .
The gun stalls. The empty click echoes in the stillness of the night, the sound deafening in its finality. I press the trigger again. Another stall.
My heart lurches, a cold dread spreading through my veins. I should’ve grabbed both guns. Fool.
Caldwell’s eyes widen further, his breath hitching in his throat. For a heartbeat, we’re both frozen, the silence broken only by the distant chirping of crickets. Then a slow, triumphant smile spreads across his face.
“Looks like your luck’s run out?—”
The impact of my pistol against his skull silences him. He slumps, unconscious but breathing. Part of me wants to finish it, to rid the world of him permanently. But time is running out.
I need to find Hailey.
Two vehicles with engines running, two bodies—one dead, one unconscious—in the middle of the road. It won’t be long before Heath’s people or Caldwell’s security detail converge on this location. I have minutes at most.
Holstering my weapon, I turn toward the forest where I caught that glimpse of Hailey. She’s on foot, naked, in full heat. She can’t have gone far.
“Hailey!” I call, plunging into the trees. “Hailey, it’s Ren!”
No answer but the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.
I run aimlessly at first, desperation clouding my judgment. The forest is dark, the canopy blocking most of the moonlight. She could be anywhere.
Stop. Think. Focus.
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. And there it is—sweet vanilla and honey, now sharpened with the unmistakable notes of omega heat. The scent hits me like it has claws, digging into me and sending blood rushing south despite my best efforts to control it.
Following her trail, I move faster, calling her name. The scent grows stronger with each step, until it’s almost overwhelming, clouding my thoughts with nothing but need.
“Hailey!” I shout again, pushing through a tangle of underbrush.
And then I see her.
Huddled at the base of a massive tree, arms wrapped around her knees, shivering despite the sweat that glistens on her skin. Even in the dim forest light, I can see how flushed she is, her pupils dilated. Lost in the throes of her heat. Alone. Vulnerable.
“Hailey,” I say softly, approaching cautiously, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. “It’s me. It’s Ren.”
She looks up, her expression unreadable in the shadows. Fear? Confusion? Or just the disorientation of the heat?
I reach for her, my hand outstretched, and she flinches violently, scrambling away from me, her eyes wide with terror.
“No!” she cries, her voice raw with panic. “Stay away from me!"
She lashes out, her nails raking across my arm, drawing blood. I recoil, surprised by the force of her attack. “Hailey, it’s me! It’s Ren!”
She shrinks back against the tree, her body trembling, her scent thick with fear and the heady aroma of her heat. “Don’t touch me!” she screams, her voice laced with a desperation that tears at my gut.
I freeze, my hand hovering in the air. I can see the raw panic in her eyes, the way she’s looking at me like I’m a threat, like I’m the one who hurt her. And the realization hits me like a punch to the gut. She doesn’t recognize me. The mask, the body armor, the blood…I look like one of them.
“Hailey,” I say again, my voice softer now, more soothing. I remove the mask, letting her see my face, my own fear and desperation mirroring hers. “Look at me. It’s me. It’s Ren.”
Slow, hesitant recognition dawns in her eyes, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through the darkness.
“Ren?” she whispers, voice barely audible. The fear in her eyes begins receding, replaced by something else—disbelief, hope, and a flicker of…longing?
“Ren,” she says more steadily now.
I nod, crouching down, not wanting to startle her. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes wide, her breath catching in her throat. Disbelief wars with hope in her expression, and for a heartbeat, I’m afraid she’ll bolt, that she won’t trust me, not after all I’ve done, all I didn’t do. That she’ll?—
With a sob that shatters the forest silence, she throws herself against me. Her arms lock around my neck like she’s clinging to a cliff’s edge, her body trembling so violently I can feel her heartbeat slamming against my ribs.
“ I thought you were dead .” The words tear out of her, ragged and wet against my collarbone. “Widow told those alphas—Caldwell made me think—” A hiccupping gasp cuts her off. Then, like a dam breaking: “I’m so sorry?—”
Her chest hitches, a shudder so deep I feel it in my own lungs.
“—so sorry?—”
Another tremor, harder this time. Her fingers twist into my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll vanish.
“—I’m sorry?—”
She’s spiraling. Apologies spilling out between breaths that come too fast, too shallow. Shock setting in.
I tighten my grip—one hand cradling the back of her head, the other pressing firmly between her shoulder blades. “Breathe,” I murmur into her hair, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “Just breathe, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”
Her forehead knocks against my sternum. “But I?—”
“No.” My palm rubs slow circles over her spine. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” A broken noise escapes her. I can taste her relief in the air—honey and salt and something painfully vulnerable. “Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.”
I hold her tight, my arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. The feel of her against me, small and warm and alive , sends a jolt of pure, unadulterated joy through me, a feeling more potent than any drug, any victory. She thought I was dead. And the knowledge that she cares, that my being alive matters to her, makes me feel more alive than I have in years.
“ I thought I lost you .” The words fracture against my collarbone. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t?—”
My hand cups the back of her head, holding her steady as her body shakes. “Listen to me.” I wait until her gasping breaths sync with mine. “You walked into a den of vipers because we failed to protect you. That’s on us. On me .”
Her sob catches—a wet, broken sound—so I press harder:
“You survived. You fought. And you’re here.” My thumb traces the curve of her ear, a silent vow. “That’s all that matters now.”
Somewhere in the woods, an owl cries. The sound pulls her attention upward—just enough for me to see the way her lashes cling together, damp and spiked from tears.
Then her arms lock around my neck again, this time with purpose. Not just clinging.
Claiming .
And just like that, every carefully constructed wall I’ve spent years building collapses into dust.
Because she’s right where she belongs.
Then, as if all the energy leaves her, she sags against me. All the fight bleeds out in one long exhale.
Her skin burns against mine, fever-hot from the heat. The scent of her—God, the scent—makes my head swim and my body respond in ways I can’t control. But I push the reaction down, focusing on what she needs right now.
“I didn’t know what to do.” Her words come out muffled against me. “Th-they, I think they gave me something. The h-heat. I think I’m in heat. It hurts, Ren.”
My arms tighten around her. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”
The endearment slips out again without thought, but it feels right. She feels right in my arms, like she was made to be there. How did I fight this for so long? How did I convince myself that pushing her away was protecting her, when all it did was waste precious time?
“W-what are we going to do?” she asks, pulling back slightly to look at me. Even as she asks, her hips squirm against me, and I have to clench my jaw tight just to force my brain cells to work.
Hailey’s eyes are glazed with heat and fear, but there’s trust there, too. Trust in me to get her through this.
“We’re going home,” I tell her firmly. “Back to the pack. We’ll help you through this, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
A whimper escapes her as another wave of heat crashes through her. I can feel it in the way her body tenses, in the fresh bloom of her scent. She presses herself closer, seeking relief that I could give her—that every instinct is screaming at me to provide.
“Please,” she whispers, her hands fisting in my shirt. “It hurts so much.”
The alpha in me roars to answer her plea, to claim, to mate, to soothe the ache we’re both feeling. But I can’t. Not like this. Not with drugs forcing her body into submission, not with the trauma of everything she’s just endured still raw.
She deserves better. She deserves choice.
“I know it hurts,” I say, brushing her hair back from her face. “And I promise I’ll help you through it. But not here. Not now.”
Her expression crumples, a fresh sob escaping her. “I don’t know if I can stand it much longer.”
I shed my shirt, wrapping it over her bare skin. She whimpers, burrowing into the fibers, even pressing it to her nose as she inhales deeply. It’s not much, but it’s something. “You can,” I assure her. “You’re stronger than you know. You hurt Caldwell.”
A startled laugh bubbles from her throat, watery but real. “I…I bit him.”
I set her down, looking over her, noting the way she can hardly stand. She’s swaying, her eyes glazed with the heat. “He was holding his dick, Hailey…the blood…” My voice trails off as the pieces click into place. She bit him…there ?
My fists clench. The thought of what that bastard must have been doing for her to gain access to that spot rises in my mind. But it’s followed by a surge of fierce pride. Fuck him. She should have bitten it clean off.
I lean down, adjusting my shirt over her as I take what feels like my first full breath since this ordeal began. She leans into the contact, her breathing ragged but steadier. “Don’t leave me again,” she pleads. “Promise me.”
“I promise.” The words feel like a vow. I mean them. “I’m not going anywhere.”
For a moment, we just breathe together, foreheads touching, her scent enveloping us both in a cocoon that feels like safety.
“We need to go,” I say, pulling back reluctantly. She tries to move but staggers immediately, her legs buckling. Without hesitation, I scoop her into my arms, cradling her against my chest.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her. The fact she immediately sinks against me with complete trust does more than she’ll ever know. “I’ve got you now.”
She nestles her face against my neck, her breath warm against my skin. “You came for me,” she whispers, voice filled with wonder.
“Always,” I promise. And it carries more weight than she knows.
I move quickly through the forest, back toward the road where the vehicles wait. Hailey feels impossibly light in my arms, but the weight of what she means to me has never been heavier.
As we near the edge of the trees, I can see Caldwell’s crumpled form still lying in the road, the beta’s body a few yards away. Blood glistens in the dawning light.
“Close your eyes,” I murmur to Hailey.
She complies without question, burying her face deeper against my neck as I carry her past the carnage. The less she sees, the better. She’s been through enough tonight.
I reach the SUV and carefully settle her in the back seat, where she’ll have room to lie down. She whimpers as I try to pull away, her fingers clutching at my arms.
“Don’t go.” Her plea, her eyes so wide with fear, I wish I could do what she asks. Stay holding her in that back seat. Use my mouth to take some of the edge off her pain.
“I’m not leaving,” I whisper. “Just going around to the driver’s side. We need to get out of here.”
She reluctantly releases me, curling into herself as another wave of heat crashes through her system. Her soft cries of discomfort follow me as I circle the vehicle, each one a knife to my gut. She’s in pain, and there’s nothing I can do to ease it. Not yet.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, my hands hover over the steering wheel. And just like that, I’m frozen.
The wheel gleams dully in the dashboard lights, innocent and inanimate, yet to me, it might as well be a live grenade. I haven’t sat behind one since…
Since the accident.
Memories flood back. The rain-slicked road, Finn in the passenger seat, my hands tight on a wheel just like this one. The sudden appearance of the logging truck. The screech of tires, the crunch of metal, Finn’s scream. Blood. So much blood.
My hands shake. I can’t do this. I can’t.
From the back seat, Hailey whimpers my name, the sound pulling me back to the present with brutal clarity. I glance in the rearview mirror and see her writhing against the leather upholstery, her face flushed with heat, her eyes still glazed with need and pain.
I have to do this. For her .
Swallowing hard, I press my forehead against the steering wheel, sweat making the leather slick beneath my skin. Breathe , I tell myself. Just breathe.
“Ren,” Hailey calls weakly. “Are you okay?”
The irony of her asking about my well-being when she’s the one suffering tears at my heart. “I’m fine,” I manage, though the words sound like crushed coal. “Just…give me a second.”
I can do this. I have to do this. Hailey needs me.
With trembling fingers, I reach for the gear stick, pushing the vehicle into drive. The vehicle groans, the sound sending a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over me. But I fight through it, forcing my hands to close around the wheel.
I’m almost there when headlights suddenly appear behind us, sweeping across the interior of our vehicle. Not the random headlights of a passing traveler on this remote back road. No. I recognize the silhouette of the vehicle—identical to the one we’re in. One of Heath’s.
It comes to a screeching halt. Men pour out, weapons drawn. Their shouts carry through the night air.
Fuck.
It’s now or never.
With a silent apology to Hailey, I release the brake and slam my foot on the accelerator. The vehicle lurches forward, tires spinning on the gravel before finding purchase. I swerve around Caldwell’s prone form and the dead beta, the vehicle fishtailing slightly before straightening out.
In the rearview mirror, I see two men scrambling back to their vehicle, while others fire wildly in our direction. A bullet pings off the rear bumper, another shatters the side mirror.
“Stay down!” I call to Hailey as I push the accelerator to the floor. The vehicle responds, shooting forward into the darkness.
Our pursuers aren’t far behind, their headlights growing in the mirror as they give chase. The narrow road twists through the forest, each curve a test of nerve and skill. Every fiber of my being becomes focused on keeping us alive, keeping us ahead.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Hailey as we hit a particularly rough patch, the vehicle bouncing violently. “Everything will be okay, sweetheart. Just a little longer.”
She makes a noise that might be acknowledgment, might be pain. I can’t spare the attention to check on her properly, not with death on our heels and the road demanding every ounce of my concentration.
We burst out of the forest onto a wider, paved road. A main highway. For a moment, I think we might lose them in the traffic. Blend in with other vehicles. But at this early hour, the road is nearly empty.
The dark van swerves out behind us, still in pursuit, gaining ground on the smoother surface. The familiarity of it all—the chase, the speed, the life-or-death stakes—brings the memories crashing back with devastating clarity.
Rain. Night. The logging truck appearing suddenly. Finn’s voice: “Ren, watch out!” My decision, made in a split second. The choice that nearly killed him.
I think I’m hallucinating when a truck appears ahead, pulling out from a side road, its high beams momentarily blinding me. Just like before. History repeating itself with cruel precision.
But this time is going to be different.
“I’m not making the same choice,” I growl through gritted teeth. “We’re both surviving this. Both of us!”
The idiots behind us are still in hot pursuit, too close, too fast. They don’t see the truck yet. Won’t have time to react.
But I can.
In one fluid motion, I pull the handbrake and wrench the wheel hard, sending us skidding into the lane the truck is pulling out from. We miss its massive grill by inches, the vehicle fishtailing once more before I regain control.
Our pursuers aren’t so lucky. By the time they spot the truck, it’s too late. Their vehicle slams into it at full speed, the impact sending up a shower of glass and twisted metal. The sound of the collision is deafening, even through our closed windows.
I don’t slow down to watch. I accelerate away, putting as much distance between us and the wreckage as possible. My heart pounds against my ribs, adrenaline making my vision sharper, my reflexes faster.
“Ren,” Hailey whimpers from the back seat. There’s fear in her voice, but also relief. She knows we’ve escaped.
I glance in the rearview mirror, meeting her eyes. They’re clearer now, some of the heat-haze receding in the face of our near-death experience.
“It’s alright,” I tell her, and for the first time since this nightmare began, I actually believe it. “Everything will be alright now.”
We still have a long way to go. Heath is still out there. Caldwell might have survived. The heat drugs in Hailey’s system won’t fade for days.
But we’re alive. We’re together. And somehow, I’m driving again.
“Rest,” I tell Hailey softly. “We’ll be home soon.”
Home. The word feels different now. Fuller. It’s not just a place anymore. It’s her. It’s us.
And despite everything, I’m finally, cautiously, allowing myself to hope.