Chapter 41 Stefan
Chapter forty-one
Stefan
I take a light shower, scrubbing away the sweat and slick and evidence of what just happened with Ashton.
The water runs hot over my sore muscles, my injured leg throbbing despite the relief of finally claiming him.
My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter and I grab it, reading the text through the steam-fogged screen.
Horses fifteen minutes out.
I dry off quickly and pull my clothes back on. Everything feels too tight after the intimacy of the past hour, like the fabric is a barrier I don't want anymore. But business is business, and Morrison's people don't need to see me looking freshly fucked.
I strap the gun back into my belt, checking the safety and the chamber one more time. The weight is reassuring against my spine, a reminder that despite the domestic peace inside this house, danger is always close.
When I step back into the guest room, Ashton is sprawled out on the bed looking absolutely blissed out.
His hair is a mess, his lips swollen from kissing, his skin still flushed with the afterglow.
He looks beautiful and satisfied in ways I've never seen before, all the tension and fear that usually lives in his body completely absent.
"Are we staying here?" Ashton asks suddenly, his voice soft but carrying an edge of vulnerability.
I look back at him, my hand pausing on the doorframe. The question is weighted with everything we haven't talked about yet, all the implications we've been avoiding. "I don't know. We haven't really talked about anything."
It's the truth, even if it's not the answer either of us wants. Everything has happened so fast; there's been no time to actually discuss what any of this means or what comes next.
Ashton sits up slowly, wincing slightly as his body reminds him of his injuries.
But he looks better than he has in days, the color back in his cheeks and the glazed look of pain gone from his eyes.
His body is still flushed with arousal, not as desperately as before, but enough that I can see the heat lingering in his system.
"What about your relationship with Dustin?" Ashton asks, pulling his knees up to his chest. "You two are brothers. That has to count for something, right? Won't that help keep us together?"
I sigh and drag a hand over my head, feeling the short stubble rasp against my palm. "I really don't know, Ashton. Me and Dustin have been close but not pack close. We grew up together, we're family, but that doesn't automatically mean pack. None of this was expected."
Ashton is quiet for a moment, processing that. Then he asks, "What was your childhood like with Dustin?"
The question catches me off guard. We don't talk about our childhood much, Dustin and I.
It feels like another lifetime, before Charles and the violence and the constant danger.
Before I became someone who kills for money and Dustin became someone who runs illegal operations through a legitimate ranch.
But something about the moment, about Ashton looking at me with those vulnerable eyes, makes me want to open up. To share pieces of myself I usually keep locked away.
"We were close," I start, the memories coming slowly at first. "My mom and stepdad died when I was sixteen and Dustin was thirteen in a freak car accident. One day we had a family and the next day it was just us."
I move to sit on the edge of the bed, my leg grateful for the rest. "I dropped out of school to work, to keep us fed and housed. Did construction, waited tables, anything that paid cash. Dustin stayed in school because I was determined he'd have a better life than me."
Ashton listens without interrupting, his attention completely focused on me.
"We were all we had," I continue, the words coming easier now.
"Every meal we shared, every bill we managed to pay, every problem we solved…
it was us against the world. I'd come home exhausted and Dustin would have dinner ready, whatever he could make with the groceries I'd bought.
We'd eat together and he'd tell me about school, about his day, and for those moments it felt like maybe we'd be okay. "
I can see it so clearly, those nights around our shitty kitchen table in our shitty apartment. Dustin's gap-toothed smile when he was proud of himself for making something edible, the way he'd save the best portions for me even though he was a growing kid who needed the nutrition more.
"He was always the optimistic one," I say, smiling despite myself. "Always seeing the best in people, finding reasons to be happy even when we were broke and struggling. I was the one who worried, who planned, who tried to keep us safe. He was the one who reminded me that life was worth living."
Ashton shifts closer, his knee touching mine. "He sounds like he was a good brother."
"Is," I correct. "He is a good stepbrother.
The best." I pause, organizing my thoughts.
"When I was nineteen and he was sixteen, I got arrested.
Stupid shit, bar fight where I broke some rich asshole's nose.
He was harassing a waitress and I stepped in.
But his daddy was connected and suddenly I was looking at assault charges. "
The memory still makes me angry, the injustice of it. Protecting someone and getting punished for it while the real aggressor walked free.
"Charles bailed me out," I continue. "Paid off the right people, made the charges disappear. But nothing is free with him. He owned me after that, called in the favor by making me part of his organization. I took the job because refusing meant going to prison and leaving Dustin alone."
Ashton's hand finds mine, his fingers threading through mine. "That's when you started working for my father."
"Yeah." The word tastes bitter. "I told myself it was temporary, that I'd work for him long enough to pay off the debt and then get out. But Charles doesn't let people go. Once you're in, you're in until he decides otherwise. Or until you run."
I look at Ashton, seeing understanding in his eyes. He knows better than anyone how Charles operates, how he uses people's vulnerabilities against them and never releases his grip.
"Dustin got out though," I say, the pride evident in my voice. "Finished school, got a football scholarship to college. I made sure Charles never touched him, kept my work completely separate from his life. When he graduated, he had options. Real, legitimate options."
"But he chose the ranch," Ashton says. "Which isn't exactly legitimate."
"No," I agree. "But it's his choice, his business. He built it with Kade, made something that's theirs. That's different from being owned by someone like Charles."
Ashton is quiet for a moment, his thumb stroking across my knuckles. "Do you think we could have that? Something that's ours?"
The question makes my chest tight. "I don't know. I'd like to think so. I'd love for all of this to work, for us to somehow make a life here with Dustin and Kade and Solana. But there are so many complications."
"Tell me what you're thinking," Ashton encourages. "Really thinking, not just what you think I want to hear."
I take a breath, letting myself imagine it. Really imagine it, without the cynical voice that usually shuts down hope before it can take root.
"In a perfect world," I start slowly, "a conjoined pack with Dustin and Kade would give you what you need.
They have enough money to make your life and Solana's life perfect.
You could pursue your art, really pursue it without Charles controlling everything.
Solana could learn to exist in the world without Harmony House's poison in her head. We could keep you both safe."
The vision is so clear it hurts. Ashton with a studio, creating the art he's always dreamed of making. Solana blooming without the weight of institutional trauma crushing her. All of us together, building something real and lasting.
"What about you?" Ashton asks. "What would you want in this perfect world?"
The question catches me off guard. I've spent so long focused on survival and protecting others that I've barely thought about what I actually want for myself.
"I want to stop looking over my shoulder," I admit. "Want to wake up without immediately cataloging threats and escape routes. Want to build something instead of just destroying things for money." I pause. "Want to watch you flourish doing what you love."
Ashton's eyes are suspiciously bright. "Maybe we both get a second chance."
I don't respond, but I don't disagree either. The hope feels fragile, like something that could shatter if I acknowledge it too directly. But it's there, growing despite my attempts to be realistic about our situation.
I stand up, my leg protesting the movement. "I need to meet the horse delivery."
Ashton crawls onto his knees on the bed, pulling at my hand. "There's something else you're not telling me."
Damn it. He knows me too well already, can read the tension I'm trying to hide.
I sigh. "We questioned the guy that got into the house. The one I tied up."
"And?"
"He's working with Harmony House," I say, watching Ashton's expression carefully. "He was here to check on Solana's progress, make sure the placement was going well."
Ashton frowns. "Why would someone from Harmony House know who I am though?"
This is the part I've been dreading. "Apparently someone sent your papers in. Put you in their system as an Omega needing placement."
Ashton's eyes widen, fear and betrayal flashing across his face. "No. No, that's not—I never—"
I step closer and cup his face, forcing him to look at me. "I'm not letting you get taken. And Kade won't let it happen either. I promise you that."
"But who would—" Ashton's voice breaks. "Why would someone do that?"
"The guy was here for Solana primarily. You were just collateral damage apparently. But we're figuring out what to do with him and who sent your papers in."
Ashton's expression hardens. "Knowing my father..."
"I'm choosing to believe he's not that much of a fucking bastard," I interrupt, even though I'm not sure I believe it. "That he's not that fucking desperate to control you through Harmony House."
Charles is absolutely capable of that level of manipulation and control. But the alternative—that someone else put Ashton in the system without his knowledge—is almost worse because it means we don't know who we're dealing with.
"Regardless," I continue, "I've got to handle this deal with Kade and then I'll be back. Keep the fucking door locked, okay? Don't open it for anyone except me, Kade, or Dustin."
I lean down and kiss him fiercely, pouring everything I can't say into the contact. When I pull back, Ashton's eyes are dark with worry and lingering arousal.
"Be careful," he says.
"Always am."
I leave the room and meet Kade in the hallway. He's changed into clean clothes, no trace of the unknown Alpha's scent remaining. His expression is all business, the easy domesticity from earlier completely gone.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Yeah. Let's get this done."
We head outside where a large trailer is already pulling up the service road. The timing is perfect, exactly as planned. Morrison's people are nothing if not professional.
The truck stops and several men climb out, moving with the efficiency of people who've done this hundreds of times.
They start unloading the horses, leading them down the ramp one by one.
Five beautiful thoroughbreds, all of them probably stolen or obtained through questionable means, all of them worth a fortune.
Everything looks in order as we're loading them into the barn. The horses are calm, well-trained, showing no signs of mistreatment or poor handling. Morrison knows his business, knows that damaged goods are worthless in this market.
One of the younger guys, maybe twenty-five, takes a deep breath and grins. "Damn, someone's got an Omega in heat. Lucky bastard."
The comment is casual, thoughtless, the kind of thing men say when they think they're among friends. But it sends rage flooding through my system before I can control it.
I don't hesitate. My fist connects with his jaw and he crumbles to the ground, blood spraying from his split lip. The punch feels good, satisfying in a way that's probably unhealthy.
Another guy steps forward. "What the fuck, man?"
The main guy dropping off the horses holds up a hand.
"We're not here to be friends. We don't ask questions, you don't ask questions, and everyone gets paid.
But you disrespect a man in his fucking house?
You pay for it." His gaze sweeps across his crew.
"Anyone else want to talk about their Omega or make a joke?
No? Smart move." He extends his hand to Kade, who shakes it firmly.
"Congratulations," the man says, his tone genuine.
"To both of you. Never thought I'd see the day.
Let us know when you get these transferred. "
Kade nods. "Will do. Payment will be wired by morning."
We watch them load back into the truck and drive away, the trailer empty now. The whole transaction took less than twenty minutes, quite professionally despite my outburst.
"I'm going to do a round," I say, scanning the perimeter. "Make sure everything is secure."
"I'll make sure these are all checked in," Kade agrees. "Meet me back here in an hour."
I'm about to head out when I hear the rumble of an engine approaching from the front drive. Both Kade and I turn, hands instinctively moving toward weapons.
A car stops and out steps Alpha Graves.
"Fuck," Kade mutters. "Change of plans."
I look at him. "What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to make sure there isn't anyone else walking around the fucking property," Kade says, his voice hard. "No one gets into the house. No one."
"I got it." I pull my gun, checking it one more time. "Call if you need help."