Chapter 21
21
JAMES
I t’s barely past five in the morning, but I’ve been awake for the past half hour, hearing no noise from the storm as though it’s gone to sleep.
Beside me, Lily sprawls across the bed, one leg draped over mine, her face half-buried in the pillow. Her wild curls spill across the sheets, dark against the white cotton. I ease out from under her, careful not to wake her, and pull the covers over her exposed back.
“Fucking bed hog,” I mutter with a grin, watching as she immediately annexes my vacated space.
God, she’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made those eighteen months feel like eighteen years. I haven’t touched a woman in nearly two years—six months before prison, then the entire stretch inside—and my body is still humming from last night. Fucking her finally. The way she stared at me, challenging and holding on to me as if her life depended on it. Despite her words and actions, I know deep down, she is an Omega longing to be loved, to be protected by an Alpha.
I move to the window, staring out into the darkness. Everything is so still. I can’t make out much beyond our property line, just vague shapes and movements that could be animals seeking shelter or branches breaking free.
Looking back at Lily, something tightens in my chest. This is it. What I’ve been craving, what I dreamed about during those endless nights when the walls pressed in too close. Not just any woman—her. This mouthy little baker with her quick wit and her stubborn independence. This Omega who fits against me like she was made for me.
I could make a life with her. Build something real, something lasting. Give her everything she deserves—security, pleasure, a partner who matches her fire with his own. And if Archer and Hunter want a piece of what we have, I’m surprisingly okay with that. They’re my brothers in every way that matters. We’ve talked about it before, in those late-night conversations that skirt the edge of too personal—sharing an Omega, building a pack together. The idea should make me jealous, possessive, but instead, it just feels... right.
But there’s that shadow hanging over everything. The lies. Not outright falsehoods, but sins of omission. She knows about them now, yet it still sits heavily on me, seeing she hadn’t admitted to fully forgiving me yet.
I pull on my boxers and slip out of the room, closing the door to not wake her. The house creaks and groans around me as I make my way down the stairs, the old timber frame protesting against the battering wind.
My sleep’s been fucked since prison. Eighteen months of constant control, constant noise, constant vigilance—it rewires your brain, makes you jump at shadows and listen for footsteps that aren’t there. Even here, in Hunter’s fortress of a cabin, I can’t manage more than a few hours before my body jerks me awake, heart racing, senses on high alert.
Maybe with Lily in my bed, that will change. Maybe her scent, her warmth, and her soft breathing will override the alarms that keep screaming in my head. Worth a shot, anyway.
The hallway stretches long and dark ahead of me as I head toward the kitchen, thinking about coffee and maybe some prep work for breakfast. Lily strikes me as the type who’d appreciate fresh pastries when she wakes up, and I’ve been itching to get my hands on Hunter’s commercial-grade oven. It’s been too damn long since I baked anything.
That’s when I hear it—a low, guttural growl coming from the rear of the house, near the back door.
I freeze mid-step, the hairs on my neck rising. My body shifts automatically into a defensive stance, weight centered, muscles tensed.
Thor? Maybe. The malamute’s protective instincts run deep, especially for an animal raised in these mountains. But something about the pitch of that growl seems off.
Fuck. Not a bear again. Last time one of those bastards got in, it tore up half the kitchen before Hunter managed to drive it back out. He reinforced all the doors and windows after that and installed steel-core frames and double-paned glass.
The growl comes again, deeper this time, followed by a hushed voice that’s definitely not Hunter or Archer.
Fuck! Someone’s in the house.
I move silently toward the sound, grabbing a heavy bronze bookend from the hall table as I pass. Not ideal, but it’ll crack a skull if necessary. My mind catalogs what I know about the layout—where Hunter keeps his guns (mostly in the basement gun safe).
“Thor, better be you, buddy,” I call softly, though I already know it isn’t.
As I turn the corner toward the back entrance, my suspicions are confirmed. The door is closed, but melting snow tracks across the hardwood floor in boot-shaped puddles. Not paw prints. Not bear claws. Human. Big human, based on the size of those tracks.
Motherfucker. Someone broke in.
I move along the wall, breathing controlled, ears straining for any sound. From deeper in the house, Thor’s growls intensify, punctuated by someone hissing at him to shut up.
If they hurt that dog, I’ll rip them apart with my bare hands.
The study door stands ajar, a sliver of light—not electric, but the dancing beam of a flashlight—visible through the crack. I edge closer, pressing my back against the wall, and peer inside.
The room is mostly dark, but I can make out a tall figure bent over the desk where Hunter keeps the treasure map. The intruder’s back is to me, one gloved hand aiming a flashlight at the framed document while the other traces across the glass edging like he’s about to lift it up. Thor stands a few feet away, hackles raised, teeth bared, ready to lunge.
I calculate the distance, grip the bookend tighter, and prepare to strike?—
Pain explodes across my back, a vicious blow that catches me completely off guard. “Fuck!” I arch away, turning just in time to take a fist to the face.
I stumble backward, dropping down to my knees, vision blurring, the bookend tumbling free from my grip. Another figure stands in the hallway, dressed all in black, face obscured by a ski mask. He’s nearly my height, broad through the shoulders, stance suggesting he knows how to handle himself in a fight.
The man from the study emerges, also masked, but the moment he speaks, recognition hits me like another blow.
“What the fuck are you doing out here?” he hisses at his partner, then spots me groaning on the floor in the dark hallway.
Travis. Hunter’s goddamn cousin. I’d know that voice anywhere—the same one that used to come to the cabin when we were young and start fights with Hunter, physical punch-ups.
Thor launches himself at Travis with a ferocious snarl, and chaos erupts. Travis cries out as eighty pounds of infuriated malamute slams into his chest. I let out a piercing whistle—a signal that will bring Hunter and Archer running—then throw myself to my feet and turn my attention to the second intruder as he lunges at me.
We collide with bone-jarring force, hitting the floor hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. His fist connects with my jaw, pain bursting like fireworks behind my eyes. I taste blood and feel the split in my lip, but the pain just feeds the rage building inside me.
I roll sideways, driving my knee up into his ribs, then follow with a kick that sends him sprawling. Before he can recover, I’m on my feet, snatching the bookend off the floor.
He comes at me again, leading with his shoulder like a linebacker. I pivot at the last second, bringing the heavy bronze down on his upper back as he passes. He crashes into the wall with a satisfying crunch, drywall cracking under the impact.
A yelp of pain pulls my attention back to Thor and Travis. My blood runs cold as I see Travis grabbing a decorative fireplace poker from the hall table, raising it like a spear.
“Don’t you fucking touch him!” I roar, abandoning my opponent to charge at Travis.
I hit him with everything I have, driving him backward into the wall hard enough to leave a body-shaped dent in the plaster. The poker clatters to the floor as Thor scrabbles away, teeth still bared.
Before I can follow up, something slams into the back of my head—a sucker punch from the second intruder and my knees completely give out. The room doesn’t just tilt; it violently spins as I crash to the floor. Darkness floods in from the edges, nearly swallowing my vision entirely. I try to push myself up, but my arms tremble and collapse beneath me. My head thumps with such blinding pain that even keeping my eyes open feels impossible.
“We gotta get out of here. Now!” the second man shouts from somewhere above me.
“Not without what we came for,” Travis snarls back. “The map’s right there, under the glass.”
“Are you insane? I hear someone moving around upstairs!”
I manage to roll onto my side, the floorboards swimming beneath me. Through the haze, I see Travis lurching across the room, clearly injured from our fight.
“Then help me, you idiot!” Travis grabs something heavy—looks like a bookend—and swings it down hard. The shattering glass sounds like an explosion in my skull.
“Got it!” Travis shouts, snatching up what must be the map. “Move!”
I force myself onto my hands and knees, but the room spins so brutally, I nearly vomit. Each attempt to stand sends fresh waves of agony through my head.
“James!” Hunter’s voice seems to come from miles away.
By the time I finally stagger to my feet, I careen into the wall, using it to hold myself upright as I stumble after the thieves. I bounce from one wall to another, barely maintaining consciousness as I follow the sounds of their retreat.
I reach the back door just as Hunter and Archer thunder down the last few stairs. They rush to the doorway where I’m leaning heavily against the frame, their arms steadying me as we watch Travis and his partner mount a sleek, black snowmobile.
The strange silence hits me immediately. The howling wind has stopped completely. Outside, the world has transformed—pristine, untouched snow stretches out under a clearing sky, almost peaceful in its stillness. The snowmobile’s engine shatters that peace somewhere in the yard filled with trees, its headlight cutting through the calm darkness as they tear away from the cabin.
Hunter darts out there with Archer close behind, both in boxers only, but Travis and his muscle head are already zipping away on the path they carved.
“What the fuck?!” Hunter’s voice booms as they march back inside.
“James, Jesus fucking Christ,” Archer lowers his weapon, rushing forward to help me. “What happened?”
I let him guide me to a chair in the kitchen, wincing at the headache, the split lip, bruised jaw, possible concussion, and definite bruising along my back and ribs.
“Your fucking cousin,” I spit at Hunter, tasting blood again. “Travis. He and some other asshole broke in. After the map. Thor attacked Travis, and I took on the other one.”
Hunter’s face darkens with fury, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Travis was here? In my house?” He immediately drops to a knee beside Thor at his side, checking him over with gentle hands. “Did they hurt you, boy? Did they fucking touch you?”
“He fought like hell. Nearly took a chunk out of Travis before the bastard grabbed a poker. Then I shoved the asshole into the wall to protect Thor.”
Hunter’s head snaps up, his expression murderous. “He tried to hit my dog? I’ll fucking kill him.”
I nod. “But Travis was in the study, looking at the map when I came down,” I explain, accepting the ice pack Archer presses into my hand. “Had a partner with him—big guy, knew how to fight. They took the map and ran when they heard you coming.”
Hunter rises to his feet and stalks to the front of the house again. “Fuck!” His fist slams into the wall.
“They’re long gone now,” Archer reports, returning to the kitchen. His breath comes in short bursts, suggesting he’d run all the way around the property. Ice crystals cling to his golden-brown hair, melting slowly in the kitchen’s warmth. “But their snowmobile tracks are still perfectly visible, heading east. The fresh powder makes them easy to follow, and it looks like the storm might be over.”
“I’m going after them,” Hunter interrupts, a deadly calm settling over his features. His ice-blue eyes have gone flat and cold, reminding me of a predator assessing its prey. His jaw tightens. “Nobody breaks into my home. Nobody threatens my pack.”
“I’m coming with you,” I say immediately, pushing myself to stand straighter despite the room’s persistent sway. My head hurts, a reminder of Travis’ sucker punch. Blood trickles from my split lip, metallic and warm on my tongue. “Those bastards didn’t just break in—they attacked me and Thor. They got their hands on your grandfather’s map. This is personal now.”
Thor woofs softly, pressing his weight against Hunter’s leg. He reaches down, fingers threading through his thick fur as if examining him more closely, seeming to find no injuries beneath his dense coat.
“You did good, Thor,” I tell him. “Saved my ass when I needed it. Good boy.” The malamute’s tail wags once in acknowledgment.
A small noise from the doorway draws all our attention at once. The sound—a soft, sharp intake of breath—cuts through the tension like a knife.
Lily stands there, drowning in what looks like one of my shirts, the dark fabric hanging nearly to her knees and making her appear even smaller, more vulnerable. Her wild curls form a tangled halo around her face, catching the kitchen light in strands of dark brown and caramel. Her golden-brown eyes widen as they take in the scene—the dented wall in the hallway, the scattered furniture, the blood on my face, the broken glass from the display case.
“Oh my God,” she gasps, one hand rising to cover her mouth. Then her gaze locks on me, traveling from the cut under my eye to the blood on my lip to the way I’m leaning against the counter for support. Her face pales so dramatically, I worry she might faint. “James! You’re bleeding!”
The genuine fear in her voice breaks through the haze of pain and anger.
Before I can reassure her, she’s darting across the room, all sleep-warm softness and concern. She stands in front of me, her expression of such genuine worry that something in my chest constricts painfully. She takes the ice pack from my hand, setting it aside to examine the cuts on my lip and under my eye with gentle fingers.
“I need clean water and disinfectant,” she says over her shoulder to Archer, who immediately moves to comply. Her fingers tremble slightly as they hover over my injuries, not quite touching, as if afraid to cause more pain. “What happened? Are you okay? Your poor face...”
“Break-in,” I tell her, catching her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Her skin is warm, soft—baker’s hands with the strength to knead bread for hours. “Caught two guys in the house. We had a disagreement about them being here.” I try for a light tone, but my voice comes out gravelly, tight with contained rage.
Her eyes widen further, fear replacing concern as she glances around, as if expecting more intruders to materialize from the shadows. “Someone broke in? Here? With all of us sleeping upstairs? In the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm?”
“My cousin, Travis, and some other muscle,” Hunter growls, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides, his knuckles have gone white. He’s coiled tension from head to toe, a spring about to release with deadly force. “The fucking coward came during a storm, thinking we’d all be dead asleep. He’s wanted that map since before Grandpa was cold in his grave.”
“Travis?” Lily looks between us, bewildered, her brows drawing together in confusion. “The one you mentioned before? Your cousin?”
Hunter nods, jaw tight enough that I can hear his teeth grinding. “The same piece of shit who’s convinced the map is his birthright, that he was cheated out of his proper inheritance.”
Lily’s hands are gentle as she cleans my face with the towel and antiseptic cream Archer brought, but I can feel them shaking against my skin. The antiseptic stings, but I welcome the sharp pain—it clears my head and focuses my thoughts.
“I can’t believe they broke in for the map,” she says, her voice higher than normal with disbelief.
“People do anything for wealth,” Archer adds from where he’s leaning against the doorframe. His normally perfect hair is disheveled from sleep and the dash outside, giving him a wilder look than usual. “Money makes monsters of men. They could have killed you, James. If you hadn’t heard them...”
He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t need to. We all know what could have happened if I hadn’t been awake, if Thor hadn’t alerted me.
“Travis is going to be sorry real soon. And Thor helped level the playing field.”
Lily’s hands pause on my face, her golden eyes searching mine. “Are you really okay?” she asks softly, the question clearly meant just for me despite our audience.
“I’ve had worse,” I tell her, which isn’t exactly the reassurance she’s looking for, judging by her frown. I try again. “I’ll be fine. Nothing broken, just bruised.”
Her attention shifts to the malamute, who stays close to her. “Oh, Thor! Are you hurt too, baby?” She reaches down to stroke his head, and he leans into her touch with a soft whine.
“He’s okay,” I tell her. “He’s fine.”
“We need to go now,” Hunter says. “The storm’s cleared—perfect tracking conditions. If we move fast, we can catch them.”
“I’m joining you,” I state.
“Wait, go?” Lily’s head snaps up, her gaze darting between Hunter and me. “Go where? After them? Are you insane?”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Archer adds, his voice carefully neutral, but his eyes are sharp with concern. “No, better to just turn up at their place. They aren’t going to get far.”
One of Lily’s hands rests on my chest, as if to hold me in place. “James, you’re hurt. You might have a concussion. Maybe you should rest, let the authorities handle this.”
Her concern is touching, but it can’t penetrate the white-hot rage building inside me. The thought of Travis escaping after what he’s done—after endangering everyone in this cabin—is unbearable.
“Fuck that,” I growl, surprising myself with the vehemence in my voice. “They attacked me, threatened Thor, put all of us in danger—including you. I’m getting my fucking revenge.” My hands curl into fists at my sides, knuckles already bruised from connecting with Travis and his buddy’s faces.
“Those bastards broke into our home while you were sleeping upstairs. What if they’d gone up there instead of down here? What if they’d found you?”
The thought sends a fresh surge of murderous rage through me. The idea of Travis anywhere near Lily makes my blood boil and turns my vision red around the edges. My protective instincts—something I didn’t even realize I possessed until recently—roar to life.
“James...” Lily begins, but I can see in her eyes that she understands. She doesn’t like it, but she gets it.
“We’ve got the snowmobile in the back shed,” Hunter says, already moving toward the stairs. “We’ll take it, and I’ll drive. Let’s get dressed and leave now!”
“You have a snowmobile?” Lily asks, clearly trying to keep up with how quickly events are unfolding. “Could have used that to get home.”
“With how rough the snow was, too dangerous, gorgeous,” Archer confirms.
“What about the police?” Lily asks, looking between us with increasing alarm. “Shouldn’t we call them?”
Hunter and I exchange a look. “This is personal and something we’re going to handle ourselves,” Hunter explains.
“At least let me finish cleaning you up before you go,” she insists, dabbing more antiseptic on the cut under my eye. “If you’re determined to do this macho revenge thing, you’re not doing it while still bleeding.”
Her words might be dismissive, but her touch is anything but—gentle, careful, her concern evident in every press of her fingers against my skin. I find myself leaning into her touch, craving more of it even as I prepare to leave her behind.
I turn to Lily when she’s finished, cupping her face in my hands and pressing a hard, quick kiss to her lips. She looks startled, confused by my intensity, her golden eyes wide and questioning when I pull back.
“We won’t be long,” I promise, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. Her skin is impossibly soft under my calloused hands. “But we have to go now while the trail’s fresh.”
“You could die out there,” she whispers. “Both of you. For a stupid map?”
“It’s not about the map anymore,” I tell her. “It’s about making sure Travis knows he can’t come after what’s ours.”
Something in my tone, in my expression, makes her breath catch. Her eyes search mine, looking for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe understanding of what I’m really saying.
“I’ll go change,” Hunter says, already halfway to the stairs. “Two minutes, James. Meet me by the back door.”
I nod, then turn to Archer. “You protect her,” I command. My hand clasps his shoulder, fingers digging in hard enough to make him wince. “You got it? If Travis comes back?—”
“No one will touch a hair on her head,” Archer interrupts. “Not over my dead body.” His amber eyes flick to Lily, then back to me. “Besides, I’m armed, and she probably knows seventeen ways to poison someone with baking ingredients. We’ll be fine.”
Despite everything, Lily lets out a short laugh. “Eighteen, actually. The nutmeg trick is new.” Her attempt at lightness falls flat, though, the worry still evident in the tightness around her eyes and the way she hugs herself as if cold.
I feel a reluctant smile tug at my split lip, reopening the wound. A fresh drop of blood wells, and Lily automatically reaches up to dab it away, her touch impossibly gentle.
“Lock everything after we leave,” I tell Archer. “Every door, every window. And keep Thor with you—he’ll hear anyone coming before you do.”
Thor whines softly at my feet, clearly torn between wanting to follow me and staying to protect Lily.
“Stay,” I tell him firmly. “Guard.”
His ears perk up at the command, and he moves to sit directly next to Lily, his large body pressing protectively against her leg.
She nods once, then stands on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to the uninjured corner of my mouth. “Go,” she whispers against my skin. “Both of you do what you need to do. But come back to me. Keep Hunter and yourself safe.”
Her words follow me as I head for the stairs, taking them two at a time despite the protest from my battered body. Each step sends a fresh wave of pain through my skull, but I push through it, fueled by rage and something else—something that has golden-brown eyes and smells like vanilla and peppermint.
In my room, I quickly dress, wincing as every movement pulls at forming bruises. As I’m lacing up my boots, Hunter appears in my doorway, dressed in black, a ski mask in hand.
“You sure you’re up for this?” he asks, those eyes assessing my condition with the practiced gaze of someone who’s seen his share of injuries. “No shame in sitting this one out.”
“Try to stop me,” I challenge, straightening to my full height despite the wave of dizziness that accompanies the movement. I lock my knees to keep from swaying, refusing to show weakness.
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across Hunter’s face. “Good. Because between us, we’re going to make my cousin wish he’d never been born.” He tosses me a black ski mask. “Suit up. Time to show Travis what happens when you mess with us.”
Up on my feet, I’m fucking ready.
“When we find him,” Hunter continues. “We don’t hold back.”
The cold certainty in his voice mirrors the ice in my own veins. “Trust me,” I reply, pulling the ski mask down over my face, “I won’t.”