Chapter Nine
COLBY
Tristan had left the stall door open, practically begging Colby to run.
Away from Urban and the death he had planned for Colby, and away from the questions that kept tumbling from Tristan’s lips.
He didn’t seem to understand what answering them would do to Colby.
The guilt, the helplessness, the goddamn shame of it all.
Maybe Tristan had left the door open on purpose, repayment for the night Colby had opened the door of the brig and told him to run.
Or maybe he was just that na?ve, that trusting, that it never occurred to him to close it. Maybe if Colby ran, Tristan would be the one to pay for it.
Fuck. He couldn’t risk that. And despite everything, Colby knew he didn’t have it in him to run again. He had nowhere to go. And when he got to nowhere, he’d have nothing. Not even himself, not anymore. He should just accept his fate. There was no future worth wanting.
He’d accepted that earlier, but then Tristan had walked in, all light and warmth, and some foolish, flickering part of Colby had responded, had wanted. When Tristan had held him, it had been to reassure himself Colby was there, not to restrain or control him. And Colby hadn’t wanted to let him go.
He picked up the coffee that Tristan had left for him. Couldn’t face the muffins, but he was parched and freezing, and he wrapped his fingers around the mug, seeking its warmth. It wasn’t that cold—the middle of the day, in fall—but he felt chilled to the bone.
Once his fingers warmed slightly, he took a sip. God, freshly ground. It had been so long since he had something like this. Another life. Another Colby, when he’d had the future ahead of him and no idea what it held.
He was draining the last drops when Tristan reappeared, lugging a bale of straw.
“Hey,” he said, his irresistible smile lighting his face.
“D’you want another coffee? More muffins?
I mean, I kind of dropped a couple on the way over here—don’t worry, I put them somewhere the goats can’t get them because I don’t want that vet bill.
Point is, I didn’t put them back on the plate.
But it means you should have more if you want them. ”
He’d love more of that coffee, but if he said yes, that would mean Tristan leaving him.
“I’m good, thanks,” he said, and watched Tristan settle the bale down beside the wall and sit on it.
He jerked his head in invitation, and Colby sat beside him.
They were close together, but it didn’t feel unsafe. Not Tristan.
“So how long were you part of Cale’s pack?” Tristan asked, as if he were picking up a conversation they’d left off halfway through.
Colby’s heart gave a painful jolt. He’d hoped that Tristan would accept that there was nothing more to say about that subject, and move on.
But the same determination that had fueled Tristan’s resistance and hope when he was locked in the brig was evident in those eyes, curious and searching as he looked at Colby.
He didn’t want to talk about this. Not to anyone, and least of all to Tristan, who should never be touched by the dirt and despair of that place.
But what choice did he have? He was at this pack’s mercy, and though he didn’t believe Tristan would force him into anything, he’d leave if Colby refused to answer again.
Walk away, taking his life and brightness with him, leaving Colby cold and alone.
“I was there three years, give or take.” His voice was hoarse.
Tristan seemed to pick up on the fact this was a difficult conversation, because he leaned closer to Colby and when he spoke, his voice was soft. “Why did you join?”
The coffee that had tasted so good was threatening to come back up, and he swallowed, hard. Tristan was nothing like Nico, except in one way—he wouldn’t let Colby evade anything. And maybe this was right. Maybe it was time he took responsibility for his actions. And his inaction.
“I met Nico just after I got out.” His discharge from the Army—honorable, but forced—had hit hard.
At the time, he’d blamed anti-shifter bias, like the four-year enlistment cap shifters were still stuck with.
But later, he’d realized the truth—he was the problem.
Nico had taught him that. He’d just been slow to understand.
“I didn’t really have a plan yet.” After losing everything he’d loved, everything he’d wanted, and knowing how disappointed his parents would be when they learned he hadn’t reupped. “I was kind of at a loose end, trying to figure it out, and I ran into Nico in a bar one night.”
The hottest guy he’d ever seen, and he’d wanted Colby in return.
They’d scarcely left the bed in the flea-bitten motel room for days, intent on screwing one another’s brains out.
God, he’d almost forgotten how good it had been at the start, before Nico realized just how disappointing Colby was.
And before Colby started to wonder if love was meant to feel like this—like being judged for crimes he didn’t know he’d committed.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, we—he took me back to his pack, and I liked it. I’d never been part of a pack before, and it felt good.”
“Wait, what? You weren’t in a pack before? That’s like—how? Isn’t that illegal?”
“My dad was career Army, and you know the law. No serving shifter can belong to a pack. You can’t have two chains of command.”
“So messed up,” Tristan muttered. “So damn shortsighted. Like, hey, sure, sign up to defend your country, but also, sorry—you don’t get a pack, or mental health, or like, any sense of belonging ever.
Who comes up with this crap?” He huffed in annoyance.
“Sorry. I get ranty about this stuff. So, Nico took you to—what, Cale’s pack? ”
Colby nodded. “I didn’t—I know I was stupid, but I didn’t understand what they were like.
I think Nico kept me away at first from the stuff they were into, and it never occurred to me to wonder why none of them had jobs, and why we kept moving around.
Or where the money came from.” Stupid wasn’t a strong enough word for Colby.
“Or maybe I just didn’t want to know,” he confessed painfully. “I was happy, and it felt like I belonged somewhere again.” After the Army had chewed him up and spat him out, leaving him unable to go back to his parents who’d see him as a failure. Unlike Colby, his dad was still serving.
“I get it,” Tristan said softly. “When I first came here, it was scary because it was different, but even so, it felt like home. And I needed that. I mean, my mom’s part of a pack, but she’s kind of on the fringes.
They disapprove of her because she’s—well, because of things she’s done, and I think they suffer her rather than welcome her, if you know what I mean.
And that carried over to me, I guess. So joining a pack where I’m wanted—yeah, I understand how it must have felt.
At least, I think I do, not saying I do, because—okay, I’m going to shut up now because I talk too much. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Colby shook his head, startled by the apology. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had apologized to him. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had listened to him.
“So, when did you start to realize what they were doing?” It could have been an accusation, but from Tristan, it sounded more like an encouraging prompt to get him talking again.
“I don’t know, exactly. And it wasn’t like it was a big revelation, more a series of little things. When it all finally came together, somehow it wasn’t a surprise, finding out they were criminals.” Such an inoffensive word for the pack’s reign of terror over anyone who crossed them.
“But it started before then. When Nico began to change.” Colby hesitated.
“He got frustrated with me more often. Because I kept making mistakes,” he added quickly, not wanting Tristan to blame Nico when it had been Colby who failed.
“And I guess I finally realized… I didn’t want to be there anymore.
” He sucked in a breath, because that day still lived under his skin.
It wasn’t Nico’s fault. Not really. It was Colby’s, for not being strong enough. For not being smarter. For not knowing how to leave.
He’d made one of his stupidest mistakes and told Nico he was leaving. The beating that followed was brutal, but what came after had struck even deeper.
“You can’t go,” Nico had said, voice low and raw. “I love you.”
So Colby stayed. If Nico still loved him, maybe they could get back to what they’d had in the beginning.
He believed Nico when he said all Colby had to do was stop screwing up.
Stop making the mistakes that forced Nico, as pack beta, to discipline him.
Nico was under pressure, carrying out Cale’s orders.
He kept telling himself things would get better, but the longer he stayed, the more something in him clawed for escape. It started as restlessness, a flicker of unease, but it grew fast. Twisting tight inside his chest. Like a warning, or a scream. He needed out. Needed air.
That was when he found out the bonds holding him weren’t just emotional. No one left Cale’s pack. Not alive. Disloyalty was punished swiftly and with extreme prejudice.
“Nico wouldn’t let me leave.” He skipped over it as quickly as he could. “And I was never alone. Even when Nico wasn’t around, some of the pack always were. I couldn’t get away without someone noticing and stopping me.”
Because he’d tried. Only once. Nico’s response had been enough to ensure he never even considered it again. Not until Tristan. The need to save him, that deep, urgent instinct, had overridden everything, even the fear he’d learned at Nico’s hands.
Tristan didn’t say anything at first. He just sat there, quiet beside him, and when he finally spoke, his words sounded like he meant them. “I don’t get it.”
Not really surprising. No one would, until they realized how useless Colby was, how many ways he kept finding to fuck up.
Tristan was shaking his head, and Colby couldn’t even look at him. He didn’t want to see his disgust.
“You went through all that, and you still got me out? You didn’t even hesitate. That’s… I mean, I don’t even know what that is. Yeah, I do—that’s freaking heroic, is what it is.”
Colby jolted, waiting for the punchline. But there was no laughter, no twisting of the words. He dared a sideways glance at Tristan, and his face… It was as if he’d meant every word he said.
It felt wrong, like Tristan hadn’t seen the whole of him yet. But he couldn’t find any words to explain that, because Tristan shifted slightly beside him. Fingertips gently brushed against his hand.
Colby stilled, bracing for what came next. But the touch didn’t change. It stayed soft, not gripping or pulling. It almost felt like a question, without words.
He realized, slowly, that if he moved away, Tristan would let him. That he could move away.
His heart was beating too fast, and there was a strange ache rising up behind his ribs—something like grief, maybe, or hope, both tangled so tight he couldn’t tell them apart.
He didn’t look at Tristan. He just closed his eyes and let that gentle touch seep into his skin, quiet and real. Like a promise.
They sat together long enough for the shadows to move and for the barn to breathe around them, and Tristan was still there, quiet and accepting beside him.
Slowly, that messy, dirty thing that writhed inside him whenever he thought about the past stilled.
Tristan’s touch, his acceptance, stopped it from taking over.
Because Tristan hadn’t looked at him in disgust, as he’d feared.
He breathed. And for the first time in too long, he didn’t feel like he was about to come apart.
Then, slowly, he turned his head to look at Tristan.
Tristan was watching him, his eyes warm, as if he wasn’t repulsed by what he saw. His dark hair was messy, falling over his forehead, and his face was soft, yet still full of that strength and life that had so captivated Colby from the moment he’d seen him.
For the second time, Colby listened to his instincts over his brain when it came to Tristan. And his choice now felt just as dangerous as the night they’d run. He swayed closer, almost enough to cross that fragile distance between them.
He didn’t know what he was doing, not really. Only that something in him reached for Tristan like it had always been waiting for him.
He hovered there, his breath mingling with Tristan’s. Waiting. Offering.