Chapter 32 A Prescott Specialty
Chapter Thirty Two
A Prescott Specialty
— Tomas —
She left her damn phone off. She drove herself to the middle of nowhere without protection, without a single thought about the threats closing in on us.
And because the universe is a twisted bastard, the second I heard the Judge’s engine fade down the driveway, a message came through: the Council greenlit a task force to investigate the coup in Elba. Guess who’s being brought in for questioning?
Wade tosses me the keys. I’m halfway out the door before I’ve even registered what it all means. Ben and X stay behind, guarding the twins and Mishka. Wade’s got the rest—securing the perimeter, briefing everyone. Val will be up in ninety minutes. That has to be enough. It has to be. Because there’s no way I can stay here. Not with Sunday and Grayson out there, unguarded.
My wolf is losing it, howling, ripping apart every rational thought until only one word remains: go.
The big black truck roars to life beneath me, the engine vibrating through my bones, gravel spitting under the tires as I peel out. I grip the wheel hard, knuckles white, forcing my focus sharp, trying to keep the fear from slipping through the cracks.
The road stretches ahead, fields blurring past in streaks of green and gold, gravel roads cutting between rows of cotton and rusted-out barns. The truck’s engine growls as I push harder, faster. There’s too much land between me and her, and not enough time. I have to get there before anything happens. I have to make sure she’s safe, make sure they’re safe—or the weight of it will crush me.
We’ve got people coming. I don’t know who or why or how soon, but I know it’s bad news stacked on bad news. They might already be here. Tracking her.
Wade said someone’s been asking about her—someone who sounds a hell of a lot like Silas. I had to explain that no, we shouldn’t be inviting him to dinner. But I’ve got his number now.
Maybe it’ll come in handy someday.
The sinking sun hits me right in the eyes as I push the truck harder. The engine growls beneath me, like it knows I need more speed. I hate this feeling—the helplessness of being a step behind, chasing down a threat I can barely see. A threat that’s got its sights locked on my family. On her. On him.
My wolf snarls, ready to pick her up by the scruff and drag her back where she belongs. He flashes an image in my mind: tossing her next to Grayson and bolting the door behind us. Feeding Gray last night, sleeping with him close, has put the wolf in a possessive mood.
I grind my teeth and remind us both: that’s not how this works. She’s not a pup to be corrected. She’s my mate. She made a choice. But Goddess, it’s hard to wrestle that instinct down—especially when she promised, just hours ago, not to pull this shit. The broken promise twists the knife deeper.
The Judge sits by the farmhouse, its engine still ticking with heat. I’m out of the truck before it even dies, her honeyed scent threading through the breeze, tangled with the stale bite of mid-grade beer.
Colton rises as I hit the porch. Sunday’s voice is light, carefree, like she hasn’t just upended my world. Like she has no clue how bad things are. The casualness of it makes my anger coil tighter.
Colt’s eyes meet mine, narrowing, though there’s no surprise. He knew I was coming. Of course, he did.
“Looks like the music’s here,” he drawls. “Must’ve been doin’ eighty the whole way.” He tilts his head toward the galvanized bucket, sweating in the afternoon heat. “Why don’t you grab a beer?” His voice is smooth, easy. “Chill out a bit.”
I feel his magic brush over my skin—a subtle, cooling prickle, coaxing me to relax.
It doesn’t work.
I ignore Colt’s magic, my focus narrowing to Sunday. She’s halfway turned in her seat, a beer bottle dangling loosely in her hand. Her eyes meet mine, and something flickers there—surprise, maybe guilt. I don’t fucking know. Without a bond, I’m left guessing, like a damn human.
She sets the bottle on the railing and pushes to her feet. “I know, I know. I’m sorry,” she says, her voice softer than usual, the corners of her mouth tight. She knows how much trouble she’s in. “I should’ve let you know. I just needed some space—”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I cut her off. The anger twists inside me, my wolf’s growl a constant, seething undercurrent. “The Council’s moving in, Trouble. We got word right after you ran off. There’s a task force, and they could already be here, looking for us.”
Her eyes widen, her face going pale. “What?” she breathes, her gaze darting to Colt, searching for confirmation.
But Colt’s staring at me, confused as hell.
I turn back to her. “Which you would know if you kept your fucking phone on like an adult.” My voice is sharp, a whipcrack of frustration. I step closer, my fists clenching at my sides. “While you were off ‘needing space,’ we got word they’re on the move. Instead of making a plan to deal with it, I had to haul ass out here to pick up my clueless mate, who doesn’t have the decency—or the respect—to keep her phone on!”
She flinches, her shoulders tightening, guilt etched across her face. “I—I didn’t know,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I just needed a break, Tomas. I left you a note.”
Her voice breaks again, softer this time. “I didn’t know.”
My wolf surges, demanding more—punishment, control, dragging her back where she belongs. Maybe bending her over my knee until she understands. My control frays at the edges, teeth grinding as a low growl rumbles from my chest.
“You didn’t know because you can’t know everything,” I snap, my breath sharp. “You can’t keep doing this.” I pace the porch, raking a hand through my hair, trying to bleed off the fury. “You put yourself at risk. You put all of us at risk. You’re not just you anymore. We’re a pack. When one of us steps out of line, we all pay the price.”
Colt rises with a lazy grace that doesn’t match the tension in his eyes. He plants himself between us, one arm outstretched, casual but firm.
“Alright, that’s enough of that,” he says, his voice dangerously even. “Back off, Tomas. She’s here. She’s fine. Alright?”
My wolf howls, demanding I shove Colt aside, haul Sunday back, make her understand. My fists clench as I force my eyes shut, inhaling slowly.
“No, it’s not alright. It’s not fine,” I grit out. “She has no idea what could’ve happened.”
Colt’s mouth quirks into an infuriating grin. “Uh-huh. You’re havin’ some big feelings there, Tommy-boy.” He tips his beer back, draining it slowly. His eyes stay locked on mine, the challenge clear. “But you ain’t comin’ to my house and yellin’ at my sister. That’s a non-starter.”
He gestures lazily with the empty bottle. “So how you gonna act? ‘Cause this?” He lifts it again. “It ain’t impressin’ me.”
He stands there, that reckless glint in his eyes, like he’s daring me to swing. Braced for it. Maybe hoping for it. Like standing between me and Sunday is worth whatever bruises come next.
For a heartbeat, I lean forward, instinct screaming to rip the weapon from his hand, because that’s what it is , drop him to the floor, end this standoff. But I stop. Barely.
I don’t have a problem with Colt. I’m not here to hurt anyone.
Least of all, her.
It isn’t just anger—it’s fear. A raw, choking fear that has my heart pounding, that makes me want to hold her so tight she’ll never slip away again. And fear makes us do stupid things.
I unclench my fists, feeling the ache in my knuckles, and take a deliberate step back. Space. I need space before I do something we’ll all regret.
The air shifts immediately. Colt lets out a small breath, the tension easing from his shoulders. Our eyes meet, and I nod. He holds my gaze a beat longer, then, almost grudgingly, reaches out his hand.
I grip it firmly. He feels everything—every ounce of fury and fear still buzzing under my skin. Hell, he probably sensed it the moment I stepped out of the truck, maybe even before that.
His lips twitch, that infuriating smile sliding back into place. He gives my hand a quick shake and releases it. “Try not to come in so hot next time, alright?” he says, voice low, the edge softened into something closer to teasing.
I huff a breath, a half-laugh, half-grunt. “I’ll do my best, Prescott. No promises.”
I realize Colt stepping in wasn’t just about protecting Sunday—it was about protecting me from myself. He felt my wolf raging, felt me teetering on the edge of control. I scared my mate. And I sure as hell made her brother think I’m an abusive piece of shit… by acting like one.
“Thanks,” I murmur, my voice nearly lost in the wind stirring across the porch. It’s not an apology, but it’s all I can offer right now.
“Anytime, man.”
I exhale, the weight in my chest loosening just a little. Sunday’s eyes meet mine, cautious but open. I step toward her, and she meets me halfway. My hands run up and down her arms, grounding both of us.
“I’m sorry for… the way I handled things,” I say, my voice rough but soft. “I went full Alpha, and that’s not what you needed. I just… I need you to be safe, Trouble. That’s all it is.”
Her lips twitch, the corners tugging into a wry smile. “And I’m sorry I worried you. I have, umm, a small—” She holds her fingers about an inch apart. “Very small tendency toward self-sabotage.”
Colt snorts from his spot on the railing, his grin easy again. “Yeah, well, that’s a Prescott specialty.”
I pull her in, wrapping my arms around her. My wolf finally settles, the need to protect easing as I feel the steady beat of her heart against mine.
“I just… I need you here, alright?” I murmur, my voice rough. “Just like this. Don’t run off like that again. Promise me.”
She nods against my chest, her arms tightening around me. “Promise.”
“You’re a pain in my ass,” I mutter.
She snorts softly, her face still buried in my shirt. “Yeah, well, you love me anyway.”
I exhale, the anger ebbing into something deeper, more certain. My grip tightens around her. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “I really fucking do. Now, let’s go get your vampire and leave your brother to his.”
I open the truck door for her, watching as she slides into the passenger seat, her expression contrite. The air around her is thick, the scent of overwhelm clinging to her like a second skin. She’s drowning in her thoughts, and before she can sink any further, I lean in—one hand braced on the doorframe, the other reaching across her.
The seatbelt slides over her lap. My fingers brush her hip as the buckle clicks into place. She opens her mouth, maybe to protest, but I shoot her a look. She rolls her eyes and sighs, long and exaggerated.
I ignore it, tugging the belt snug before I pull back, my eyes locking onto hers.
“Really, Tomas?” she mutters, eyes narrowing just slightly, though the corners of her mouth twitch.
“Humor me,” I deadpan.
Something about her sitting there, looking up at me with those wide, trusting eyes, makes my heart thud just a little harder. I linger on her face—the curve of her lips as they tug into a bratty smirk.
Just before I pull away, I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper.
“We’ll deal with your punishment later.”
Her eyes widen, her breath hitching. For a second, there’s only silence between us—the slow rise and fall of her chest, the sharpness of her inhale. It dances in her eyes: not fear, but something far more dangerous, something I know is mirrored in my own— Need.