Chapter 3 Kellan
KELLAN
There was a hand over my mouth.
That was the first thing my brain managed to focus on. Not the weight on the edge of the mattress, not the shadow beside the bed, not the way my heart suddenly slammed against my ribs.
Just a big, calloused palm covering my lips. Warm. Solid. Unfamiliar.
My eyes flew open.
For a second everything blurred, the dark room, the soft lamp in the corner, the shape leaning over me. My pulse roared in my ears. I tried to suck in air around his fingers, and the movement made the shadows sharpen.
Leather. Black shirt. Broad shoulders.
And a face I knew.
Silas Lachlan.
Lock.
He was right there, close enough that I could see the tiny scar near his jaw, the rough stubble along his cheeks, and the faint line across the bridge of his nose where it had clearly been broken once.
His hair was dark enough to blend into the shadows, but his eyes—pale, icy blue—cut straight through me.
The shock of recognizing him hit so hard, I simply froze.
I’d dreamed about him the night before.
Except this wasn’t a dream.
“Easy,” he said quietly. His voice was low and calm, like we were talking in a hallway somewhere and not in my bedroom with his hand over my mouth. “Don’t scream.”
My body didn’t get the memo. Every instinct I had screamed danger, danger, danger. I tried to jerk back, but there was nowhere to go. The headboard hit my shoulders. His grip tightened just enough to keep me still.
He smelled like cold air and engine oil and something sharp under it that made my stomach twist. Alpha. Stronger than any scent I’d been around up close. It wrapped around my throat, crowding out thought.
This is real.
This is real.
This is real.
I made a muffled noise against his palm, and his eyes narrowed just a little.
“I’m going to move my hand,” he said. Still calm. Still infuriatingly steady. “If you try to scream, I put it right back and we do this the hard way. You understand?”
I managed a nod. What else could I do? Bite him?
His gaze searched my face like he was checking for a lie. Then he slowly moved his hand away.
Air rushed into my lungs too fast. I coughed once, then slapped a hand over my own mouth, for some reason suddenly I was stupidly aware that I was still in my smallest sleep shorts and a thin tank top. My skin went hot all over.
“Wh—what are you doing here?” I hissed. “You can’t be here. There are guards outside, and my dad—”
“Your dad’s not here,” Lock cut in. “He’s on the road. And your guards are handled.”
Handled.
My stomach dropped.
“You—” My voice broke, and I swallowed.
“They’re fine,” he said clearly seeing where my mind had gone.
“If they wake up and see you, they’ll—”
“They’re not waking up anytime soon.” His jaw tightened. “And if anyone else stumbles out there, Wraith will put them down before they get close.”
The way he said it made my blood run cold.
“You can’t—”
“I can.” His gaze locked on mine. “I’m not leaving without you, Kellan.”
The way he said my name did something weird to my chest. Like he’d been saying it for years and not just… for the first time tonight.
I shook my head, and panic was making my brain go a mile a minute. “You can’t take me. My dad—”
“Your dad should’ve made sure this place was harder to get into,” Lock snapped quietly. “He didn’t. That’s on him.”
Anger flared under the fear, sharp and defensive. “You broke into my room and you’re lecturing me about security? Are you serious right now?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. “You’ve got two choices. You come with me dressed, or you come with me like this.”
His gaze dropped once—just once—to my bare thighs, the hem of my shorts, the strap of my tank top twisted against my shoulder. Heat shot up my neck. I yanked the blanket higher on reflex.
“You wouldn’t,” I breathed.
Something flickered in his eyes. “You think I won’t carry you out over my shoulder if I have to?”
The image hit so hard I almost choked on it. Me, half-dressed, thrown over the shoulder of the president of Crimson Havoc in front of whoever was out there.
Every ounce of dignity I had screamed no.
My hands shook, but I tried to make my voice steady. “If I go with you, will you at least let me put on pants?”
“Fast,” he said. “Sweater. Shoes. No bags. No stalling.”
I hesitated, my fingers still fisted in the blanket. I should be screaming. I should be fighting. I should be doing anything but nodding.
But his scent was in my lungs and his body heat was right there and some traitorous part of me kept whispering you wanted him to notice you, didn’t you?
“That’s not fair,” I muttered under my breath.
One of his brows lifted. “What isn’t?”
“Nothing.” I shoved the blanket back and sat up.
Cool air hit my bare legs and I tried not to think about how much skin was showing. I swung my feet to the floor and stood, a little unsteadily. Lock’s hand shot out like he thought I might fall, then stopped halfway, fingers curling back, like he realized what he’d been about to do.
He was watching me too closely.
My dresser was three steps away. I moved fast, digging out the first pair of jeans my hands hit and pulling them on with shaking fingers. My heart hammered so hard I could hear it in my ears.
Behind me, the bedsprings creaked as he shifted his weight, tracking every movement.
“Faster, Kellan,” he said quietly.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” I snapped, tugging the denim over my hips and fumbling with the button.
I grabbed the thickest hoodie I owned from the chair—the gray one with the frayed cuffs—and shoved it over my head. For a second the world went dark as the fabric dragged over my face, my breath hot and shallow inside the cotton.
When I pushed it down, Lock was closer.
Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
Close enough that my chest brushed his arm when I tried to step around him.
The hoodie didn’t help as much as I’d hoped; my nipples were still hard, traitorous and obvious against the thin tank under the fabric, and I prayed he couldn’t see.
His gaze dipped once, lower than my face.
Heat crawled across my skin.
“Shoes,” he said, voice rougher than before. “Then we go.”
Right. Shoes. Running. Kidnapping. This wasn’t just some weird, intense dream I’d wake up from and laugh about.
I grabbed a pair of gym shoes from under the bed and dropped onto the edge of the mattress to yank them on. My fingers fumbled with the laces enough that I had to start over twice.
Lock stood by the balcony door now, one hand on the handle, his shoulders tense, watching me.
“You’re really doing this,” I said quietly, not sure if I was talking to him or myself.
His eyes met mine across the room.
“I told you,” he said. “I’m not leaving without you.”
I tied the last knot in my laces with trembling fingers. My stomach was a hot, tight knot of fear and… something else I couldn’t name yet. Something I definitely didn’t want to look at too closely.
Lock didn’t move from the balcony door. He stood there like a wall—broad, tense, waiting. Every time his eyes slid to me, heat crawled up my neck.
This was really happening.
I stood, my legs unsteady. Not from fear. At least not only fear. My body felt wired, jittery under my skin. My palms were damp.
Lock opened the sliding door just enough for cold night air to sweep in. “Stay quiet,” he said. “And stay behind me.”
Right. Sure. Like I had any other plan.
I crossed the room, my heart pounding, my breath shallow against the inside of my hoodie. I kept trying not to look at him, but my eyes kept pulling back anyway. The size of him. The certainty in the way he moved. The way his scent curled around the back of my throat even from a few feet away.
I hated that my body reacted to it.
I stepped out onto the balcony, and the cold air slapped my face awake. The yard below was darker than usual, the security lights dimmer—cut, I realized. Someone had killed the power to this side of the compound.
“You climbed up here,” I whispered, glancing at the drop.
Lock didn’t even look winded. “Yeah.”
“How?”
He pointed at the stone wall beneath the balcony. “Jumped. Grabbed the overhang. Pulled myself up.”
My mouth fell open a little. “That’s— that’s like ten feet.”
“More like twelve.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
He huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Come on.”
He hopped over the railing first and landed on the narrow support beam below—silent, balanced like it was nothing. He looked up at me. “Your turn.”
“My turn?” My voice cracked so hard I winced.
“You said you weren’t going to fight,” he reminded me. “You want to walk out the front door instead?”
Absolutely not.
“No,” I muttered. “Just… give me a second.”
I gripped the railing, swung a leg over, and eased down onto the beam. It wasn’t that narrow, but my body still went rigid with nerves.
Lock’s hand came up—not touching me, but close, like he was ready if I slipped.
“Use the ladder,” I whispered, nodding toward the slim metal rung tucked under the balcony rail. “It folds down.”
Lock’s eyes narrowed. “What ladder?”
I reached under the edge of the balcony and found the small latch by feel. It clicked, and the ladder swung down silently, stopping just above the ground.
Lock stared at it like it had personally offended him.
“Your dad put that in?”
I snorted quietly. “No. He’d triple-bolt the windows if he could. This was already here…old building thing. He meant to have it removed, but… he never got around to it.”
Lock muttered something sharp under his breath. “And you knew it worked.”
“Yeah.” I kept my voice low. “My uncle helped me tighten the bolts once. Dad doesn’t know about that part.”
Lock turned his head slowly toward me, his pale blue eyes giving me a look I couldn’t even begin to describe.
“You’ve climbed down this before.”
I shrugged, heat crawling up my neck. “Only a few times.”
He stared another beat, jaw tight.
“You’re full of surprises,” he muttered. “Move.”