Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dane
Rett has filled his third cup of coffee since we brought Zoe back to the penthouse. He’s standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city like he’s personally scanning for threats. His posture is rigid, his shoulders a tight line under his shirt.
“She’s safe now,” I say, my voice low.
He glances at me, then back to the cityscape. “Is she?”
It’s a fair question. The penthouse is secure, but the building’s main lobby has always been our weak point—too much public access.
An oversight. One I’m correcting. I spent the last hour on the phone.
By morning, the lobby will have two of our best men on duty, 24/7.
The service elevators will be locked down, accessible only by our key fobs.
I’ve already authorized the install of a new biometric panel for the main elevator. It’s a start. It’s not enough.
Because someone targeted her. Went into her gallery, destroyed her work, left that message for her to find.
“She’s safer here than anywhere else,” I say. Not comforting, but true. Facts are what Rett needs now.
He nods, his jaw still tight. “We need to figure out who did this. And why.”
“Working on it.” My men at the security arm of Sterling Solutions are reviewing the footage from nearby buildings. The police are checking for fingerprints. But my gut says this wasn’t random.
Diego emerges from the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel. “She ate,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “Not much, but something.”
“The pasta was good,” Tristan calls from the couch, where he’s sprawled with his laptop open. “You should have seen her face when she tasted it. For a second there, I thought she might actually like us.”
Diego’s mouth quirks in a small smile. “Food has that effect. My abuela always said—”
“That the way to anyone’s heart is through their stomach,” we all finish in unison. It’s a saying we’ve heard a thousand times.
“Well, it’s true,” Diego shrugs, unembarrassed. “And right now, she needs comfort more than anything.”
I’ve known Diego for over a decade. I can read between his lines. He doesn’t just want to protect Zoe. He wants to care for her. To see her smile. To be the reason for it.
I glance at Tristan, whose eyes keep drifting toward the hallway leading to Zoe’s room. There’s tension there too, but a different kind. Playful on the surface, but underneath... something hungrier.
Then there’s Rett, who hasn’t relaxed since we found that spray-painted message. When he found out someone might be targeting her, something shifted in him. Something dangerous.
And me? What do I want?
That’s the problem. I don’t know. I only know that when she mentioned staying with her friend and those other alphas, my chest went tight. My throat closed. My alpha nearly made me growl with a snarl so primal it shocked even me.
I’ve protected this pack for years. I’ve handled threats, managed security, kept us safe. But this feeling. It’s this possessive, territorial rage, and it isn’t only about protection. It’s about possession. About her.
“We need a plan for tonight,” Rett says, interrupting my thoughts. “A security rotation.”
“Security rotation?” Tristan sits up, frowning. “Seriously? She’s behind a locked door in the most secure building in the city.”
“I’m not taking chances,” Rett says flatly.
Diego sighs. “Rett, we agreed to give her space. Her own room. Her own lock. Posting guard outside her door is...”
“Smart,” I finish for him. The others look at me with varying degrees of surprise. I don’t often contradict my brothers. But in this, I’m with Rett. “Better safe than sorry.”
“So what, we take shifts?” Tristan asks, closing his laptop. “Standing guard outside her door like sentries?”
“Not outside her door,” Rett clarifies. “That would freak her out. But someone should stay in the living room. Keep an eye on the elevator and main entrance.”
“I’ll do it,” I volunteer. The words come out before I can think too much about them.
Tristan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Of course you will, Captain America.”
I shrug. “Makes sense. I sleep light anyway.”
“We could draw straws,” Diego suggests. “Take turns. It doesn’t have to be just Dane.”
“Straws? What are we, twelve?” Tristan scoffs.
“Fine, rock-paper-scissors then,” Diego counters.
Rett pinches the bridge of his nose. “For God’s sake.”
Five minutes later, we’re standing in a circle, holding chopsticks cut to different lengths.
“This is ridiculous,” Rett mutters, but he holds out his fist with the rest of us.
“On three,” Diego says. “One, two, three!”
We open our hands. Mine has the shortest chopstick.
“Ha!” Tristan crows. “Looks like you’re on guard duty after all, big guy.”
I shrug again. It’s what I wanted anyway.
“I’ll take second shift,” Rett says, already checking his watch. “Wake me at 3.”
“I’ll get you a pillow,” Diego offers, heading toward the linen closet.
As they move, I head to the main living area. The couch faces the elevator and main entrance, giving me a clear line of sight to both. I settle in, adjusting a cushion behind my back.
The penthouse gradually quiets as my brothers head to their rooms. Diego brings me a pillow and a blanket, giving my shoulder a squeeze before he disappears down the hall. Rett does one final check of all the locks and security panels, then nods to me before he too retires.
Silence falls. I let it wash over me. I’ve always preferred quiet to noise. People who don’t know me think it’s because I’m antisocial. Maybe I am. But there’s peace in silence that I’ve never found anywhere else.
Except...
That night.
In that moment when Zoe was underneath me, her body arching to meet mine, there was peace then, too. A different kind. Electric. Alive. But still, somehow, quiet.
She was sprawled on the massive bed, her dark hair fanned out across the sheets, her skin flushed and gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat. She looked dazed, her lips parted, her eyes half-closed. So…fucking…beautiful.
I hesitated at the edge of the bed. The scent of my brothers was heavy on her skin, on the sheets. She was saturated with them.
Her eyes found mine in the dim light. Dark with the same relentless need that was burning through me. She held my gaze as she reached for me, her fingers curling into mine.
That was all the permission I needed.
Her breath hitched the moment I touched her. One hand on her ankle, sliding up her calf, her thigh, gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. She didn’t flinch. She arched, her pupils blown wide, her body trembling with need.
“Fuck,” I growled. Her scent hit me like a drug, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.
I dragged her toward me, her body sliding across the sheets. She gasped, her hands flying to my shoulders, her nails scraping down my skin.
She made a small, surprised sound as my mouth crashed against hers, and then she melted into me.
I pushed her back against the mattress, pinning her there as I tore her legs apart, her thighs trembling under my hands. She was soaked, her juices coating my fingers as I slid them over her, teasing, testing.
She cried out, her head thrown back, her hips bucking against me. “Dane,” she gasped. “Please. Please.”
Her begging snapped what little control I had left.
I shoved my pants down, lined myself up, and thrust into her in one hard, unrelenting stroke. She screamed, her nails biting into my shoulders as I buried myself inside her.
She was tight and hot and mine, her body clenching around me like she never wanted to let go.
I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. I drove into her again and again, my rhythm rough and relentless, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. She met me thrust for thrust, her cries turning into broken, breathless moans that only spurred me on.
Her hands were everywhere, on my back, my arms, my chest, her touch frantic, like she wanted to feel every inch of me. Her lips found my neck, my jaw, her teeth scraping over my skin. I didn’t care if she left marks.
“Fuck,” I rasped. My control was hanging by a thread. She was too much, too perfect, and I was too far gone to care.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, locking me in, pulling me deeper. Her body arched against mine, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream as she shattered beneath me, her orgasm ripping through her like a storm.
My own climax crashed through me with unexpected force. I buried myself deep inside her, my hips jerking as I spilled into her. And as I did, something strange happened. A pressure built at the base of my cock, an insistent swelling that caught me by surprise.
My knot. Trying to form. For her. A beta.
I pulled out just in time, confused and shaken by my body’s response. Knots were for omegas, not betas. But my body had tried anyway.
I’d claimed her, my teeth finding the perfect spot on her neck. The taste of her skin, the small sound she made as my teeth broke through…fuck, I’d never forget it.
A sound pulls me from the memory. The soft click of a door opening. I’m instantly alert, my body tensing as I sit up straighter.
It’s Zoe. She emerges from her room, padding down the hallway on bare feet. She’s wearing a loose t-shirt and sleeping shorts, her hair mussed from tossing and turning. She hasn’t noticed me yet, her attention focused on navigating the unfamiliar space in the dark.
I remain still, watching her. She looks small in the vastness of the penthouse. Vulnerable in a way I realize I don’t like. As she passes the threshold into the living room, her steps falter. She’s spotted me.
“Oh!” she gasps, one hand flying to her chest. “I didn’t know anyone was still up.”
“Sorry,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
She fidgets with the hem of her shirt, seemingly suddenly self-conscious. “I was just getting water.”
I nod, jerking my chin toward the open-plan kitchen.
“Right,” she says. She takes another step, then hesitates. “What are you doing out here?”
I consider lying. Telling her I couldn’t sleep. That I’m working. Anything other than the truth. But lying has never come easily to me. “Keeping watch,” I admit.
Her expression shifts to something like surprise. “You’re on guard duty? Because of me?”
I nod once. No point denying it.
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “That’s... excessive. But also kind of sweet, I guess. In a paranoid, alpha sort of way.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close. “We drew straws.”
“Seriously?” Now she does smile, a small, tired quirk of her lips. “That’s very democratic of you.”
I shrug. “Diego’s idea.”
“Of course, it was,” she says, and there’s a fondness in her voice that catches me off guard. “Well, don’t let me keep you from your very important guard duties. I’m just going to grab that water.”
She disappears into the kitchen. I pretend not to be aware of her every movement. I hear the faucet run, the soft clink of a glass being set down. Then she reappears, glass in hand.
“Goodnight, Dane,” she says, moving back toward the hallway. “Try to get some sleep, okay? Even superheroes need rest.”
“Not a hero,” I correct her. “Just doing my job.”
She pauses, studying me with a thoughtful expression. “And what is your job, exactly?”
“Keeping the pack safe.”
“And I’m part of the pack now?” she challenges, one eyebrow raised.
I meet her gaze steadily. “Yes.”
She inhales sharply, as if my simple answer has caught her off guard. For a moment, she looks like she might argue. Then she simply nods. “Goodnight, Dane,” she says again, her voice softer this time.
“Goodnight, Zoe.”
I watch her retreat down the hallway, her footsteps light on the floor. The door to her room closes with a soft click, and I’m alone again with my thoughts.
I settle back onto the couch, adjusting the pillow behind my head. The static in my brain is barely noticeable with her so close. Much better than the constant roar I’ve lived with for years. But it’s not only that. My alpha is more settled, too, knowing she’s here with us.
My eyes grow heavy as the hours pass. I catch myself drifting, caught in that hazy space between wakefulness and sleep. Images flash behind my eyelids. Zoe’s smile. The curve of her hip. The claiming mark I left on her neck.
And that strange, unexpected sensation of my knot trying to form inside her. Even now, the memory makes heat pool low in my belly, my cock stirring against my thigh.
I shift, trying to get comfortable despite the growing hardness. This isn’t the time or place. But my alpha doesn’t care about propriety or timing. It only knows that our mate is sleeping just down the hall, that she carries our mark, that she belongs with us.
With me.
The thought should frighten me. I’ve never felt this possessive, this protective. Never had my knot try to form for anyone, let alone a beta.
Yet here I am, hard and aching at just the thought of her. Of being inside her again. Of feeling her tighten around me as she comes. Of seeing my mark on her neck, knowing she carries a piece of me with her always.
My alpha rumbles with satisfaction at the image, even as the rational part of my brain argues that this is temporary. That she set firm boundaries.
But boundaries can change. And the claiming marks on her neck aren’t fading.
I allow myself a small, rare smile in the darkness. Patience. That’s the key. I will wait. I will watch. I will protect. And eventually, she will choose to stay.
With that thought, a sense of peace settles over me. The hard couch feels softer. The hum of the penthouse’s climate control fades away. For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, my entire system is at ease. Relaxed.
I let sleep take me.
I wake hours later, pulled from a deep, dreamless sleep by a single, sharp sound that cuts through the profound silence of the penthouse.
A scream.
My body is moving before my brain has fully processed it, years of training taking over. My feet hit the floor, and I’m already reaching for the weapon I don’t have, my every instinct screaming THREAT.
But then the sound registers, and I freeze halfway to the door.
It wasn’t a scream of terror. It was a scream of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
And it came from Zoe’s room.