Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-seven
TRISTAN
The kitchen smelled like coffee, cinnamon toast, and eggs. Dave was flipping pancakes at the stove, humming something off-key. Jesse slouched at the table, scrolling on his phone like it had personally insulted him.
Tristan grabbed two mugs and filled them, sliding one across the table to Colby without asking. Colby took it with a quiet nod, their fingers touching for a second longer than necessary.
“Matt and Bryce patrolled last night,” Dave said over his shoulder. “They’re still out there now. No sign of Nico.”
Tristan tried to stay calm, but for both their alpha and beta to be patrolling meant they took the threat very seriously. “Nothing at all?”
Dave shook his head. “Not a hair. I’m starting to wonder if he got spooked when Colby scented him and decided it wasn’t worth it.”
Tristan glanced at Colby, and his flicker of hope died fast. Colby’s expression hadn’t changed—jaw tight, eyes far away. If he didn’t believe Nico was gone, Tristan wasn’t going to argue.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Probably not.”
Jesse snorted. “Guessin’ that means I’m still on house arrest.”
“Unless you’ve got a ring of power to turn you invisible, yep,” Dave agreed.
That earned a faint smile from Jesse.
Colby hadn’t said a word, but the tension rolled off him in waves. Tristan could see it in the way his hand curled too tightly around the mug, and his eyes kept drifting toward the window.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Colby sipped his coffee, then nodded. “Yeah. Just… think we could go for a walk?”
Tristan hesitated. Go out, with Nico at large? But Colby looked like the walls of the house were closing in on him, and Tristan remembered the brig. A short walk didn’t sound dangerous—it sounded like breathing.
“The clearing’s not far. It’s a long way from the perimeter,” he said. “And with Matt out there as well as the usual patrols, it’ll be fine.”
Dave didn’t look up, but his voice was low. “Be careful, okay?”
Tristan nodded. “We will.”
* * *
The sky was the kind of bright, cloud-scattered blue that felt perfect, as if nothing bad could ever happen. Tristan knew better, now, but the warmth of the sun on his face and the solid presence of Colby beside him made it feel true.
The clearing had always felt welcoming. He’d come here as a teenager to have time that was just for him. Sitting here now, with Colby’s thigh pressed warm against his, he knew it was no longer just his retreat. It was theirs.
Colby hadn’t wanted to stay inside long enough even for breakfast. He’d seemed desperate for space. So Tristan had thrown together a couple of sandwiches to bring with them because he was a growing boy. He needed to eat.
He passed a sandwich to Colby, and practically inhaled his own. Then he leaned back on his elbows and watched Colby, who was frowning at his sandwich like it had offended him.
“What?” Tristan asked. If Colby didn’t want it, he’d gladly give it a home.
“There’s something in here,” Colby muttered suspiciously. “Crunchy. Like nuts or seeds or something.”
“That’s called texture,” Tristan said solemnly. “Some of us enjoy variety in our food.”
Colby gave him a look, but it was a soft one. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Tristan nudged his shoulder. “I know.”
As Colby, disappointingly, ate his sandwich, Tristan kept the conversation away from any mention of the previous day.
Instead, he asked about Colby’s patrols with Karl, and he told him about his new TA, who Tristan was pretty sure was plotting to murder the professors and take over the department, and they discussed how likely it was Mayhem could make it to the top of Everest.
When their meandering conversation finally trailed off, Colby lay back in the grass, and his sigh sounded peaceful.
Tristan lay beside him, feeling the warmth where their arms were pressed together.
It was soothing, it was right, and if he stayed here much longer, he was going to fall asleep, lulled by Colby’s soft, rhythmic breathing.
“I keep thinking it’ll start to feel real,” Colby said softly, after a while. “That I’m allowed to be here.”
“You are,” Tristan murmured. “You deserve this.”
Colby didn’t answer, but he reached out, linking their fingers loosely. Then he turned his head, and Tristan couldn’t resist—he leaned in and kissed him. Slow and quiet, smoothing away any last echoes of yesterday.
Afterward, he lay back again, feeling the silky-smooth grass under him and the warmth of the sun dappling through the trees. A bird called somewhere overhead, and another answered. Leaves rustled gently above them like whispers.
And then Colby’s grip on Tristan’s hand tightened.
Tristan turned his head to look at him and found Colby no longer watching the sky, but staring fixedly into the trees.
“Colby?” he asked.
Colby didn’t answer.
Tristan sat up. The air had shifted. It was still warm, still smelled like pine and sunshine, but something felt wrong. The birds had fallen silent, and the clearing seemed to be holding its breath.
Then Colby stood, sharp and swift, and Tristan followed suit immediately. “What is it?” he asked, his heart beginning to pound.
Colby’s nostrils flared and his eyes scanned the trees. “Nico,” he said hoarsely. “He’s here.”
Tristan’s whole body went cold. “Are you sure?”
But even as he asked it, he knew the answer. He could smell it now—something acrid and sharp under the scent of pine. Something that screamed danger.
Colby grabbed his arm. “Back to the house,” he said. “Now.”
But before they could move, Nico stepped into the clearing. Colby drew in a sharp breath that sounded like a sob, then stood frozen beside Tristan.
Nico moved forward, languid as a cat, his mouth curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Aw. Don’t leave on my account.”
Tristan’s heart slammed against his ribs. Memories of the brig, of Nico’s speed and brutality crashed in on him. His lungs were spasming for air, but he couldn’t breathe.
Colby didn’t move. He was tense, coiled, terrified.
A thought struck Tristan, until he was drowning in the horror of it. For Nico to be here, what did that mean about the rest of the pack? Had he…?
“How did you—?” he started, and it came out as a croak.
“Get past your patrols?” Nico said, contempt in every word. “Show some respect.”
Tristan sagged with relief. He’d got past them, not gone through them. But that made him no less of a threat. For the first time, Tristan understood how dangerous Nico was. For him to be good enough to get past Karl and Matt and Bryce…
Nico’s eyes settled on Tristan, and the curve of his smile sharpened. “So you’re the reason he forgot who he is.”
He took a slow step closer, gaze flicking from one to the other, calculating.
Colby was shaking, but he stepped between Nico and Tristan, his shoulders squared, as if trying to block Tristan from Nico’s sight. He still hadn’t said a word or made a sound, not after that first desperate breath, and he was braced like a train was barreling down the track at him.
Nico raised a lazy eyebrow at Colby. “Look at you. So eager to play protector. You really think you can keep him safe?”
Colby flinched as Nico took a single step to the side, just enough to see Tristan. His eyes drifted over Tristan, cold and slow.
“Sweet thing, all pretty and soft. What do you think he’d look like if I peeled back that shine?”
Tristan’s stomach lurched, and the sunlight turned briefly dark around him.
“Don’t,” Colby said, his voice hoarse. “Don’t talk about him. Don’t even look at him.”
Nico’s smile twisted. “Did I say you could speak? You really have forgotten what I taught you, haven’t you?”
He tilted his head as his gaze ran over Colby. “Didn’t think I’d find you with some pup’s tongue halfway down your throat. As if you didn’t even miss me.” Betrayal bled through his voice.
Tristan sucked in a breath, shock rocketing through him. He’d thought Nico was a tormentor, a jailor, a monster. He still did. But the real horror—the one that turned his stomach—was realizing Nico loved Colby.
“You ran from me,” Nico said, like it hurt him. Like he’d never expected Colby to leave and not come back. “I gave you everything, and that’s how you repay me?”
“You gave me nothing,” Colby said. His voice was low and raw, his fear visible in the way his fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were bone-white. But Tristan felt something else was building in him. Pressure gathering, coiling, and he wasn’t sure what it was.
Nico curled his lip as he flicked his gaze to Tristan. “Trying to impress the pup? Cute. But don’t forget—I know you, Colby, the real you. The way no one else ever will.”
Colby flinched, and Tristan snapped. He wasn’t going to let Nico do this to him again.
“You don’t know a damn thing about him,” he snarled, voice shaking with fury and loathing.
“Believe me, I know more than you,” Nico said, his eyes raking slowly over Tristan. “Takes a special kind of stupid to get snatched in your own backyard, baby boy.”
Something in that look made Tristan feel dirty. Violated, without even being touched.
A growl tore from Colby’s throat, low, guttural, and not quite human. He launched at Nico, letting loose with his fists, raw, fast, and furious. Not deadly like Karl, not vicious like Christian—just desperate.
Tristan flinched as Nico was pushed backward, then went for Colby, his brutal punch catching Colby in the side. Colby gasped and stumbled, but he didn’t retreat.
He threw another punch, but Nico ducked and rammed his shoulder into Colby’s gut. Colby grunted in pain and collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come.
Tristan cried out and ran forward, frantic to get to Colby. But Nico was faster—he spun, fluid and lethal, planting himself in Tristan’s path. Tristan stopped dead.
Nico’s eyes burned with fury. “You really don’t learn, do you, whelp?” he said, voice low, teeth bared. “Keep pushing, and I’ll make sure he hears every scream.”
He wasn’t bluffing. That stillness in his body—Tristan recognized it. The kind of poise he’d seen in Karl, just before the kill.
Nico was already turning away from him, as if he posed no threat. His eyes locked on Colby. “You know how this works. Bring me the silver wolf, and I won’t make you watch what I do to your little pet.”
Colby shoved himself upright, staggering a little as he planted himself between Nico and Tristan.
“No. You don’t touch him.” His voice came out low and cracked, but it didn’t waver.
Before Nico had time to strike, another voice rang through the clearing.
“Get the fuck back.”
Tristan spun toward the sound, his breath catching.
Bryce stood at the edge of the clearing, feet planted wide, eyes locked on Nico. A raw, warning growl vibrated in the back of his throat.
For the first time, Nico hesitated. His weight shifted, barely a twitch, but it was there. Then his face smoothed out again.
“Relax,” he drawled. “I’m just here to pick up my property.”
Bryce’s gaze snapped to Tristan, then to Colby, still standing firm between Tristan and Nico.
And beneath Bryce’s fury, Tristan saw something else—fear, as he calculated the angles.
Nico was too close. He could get to Tristan before Bryce could reach him, and Colby, brave as he was, might not be enough to stop him.
So Bryce didn’t move, but his stillness wasn’t passive. It was that of a predator, every muscle tight, waiting for the one, clean opening that wouldn’t risk Tristan. And his words were all the more lethal for their restraint.
“You need to get off our land.”
Tristan had never seen Bryce like this, full of cold, bitten-down fury.
“You have no business here, and you sure as hell don’t get to take Colby with you. He’s one of ours.”
“He’s mine,” Nico said. Calmly, like he was stating a fact. “He’s coming with me.”
“He’s really not,” Bryce said, his voice low and dangerous.
Nico tore his gaze from Bryce to study Colby once more, who stood silent and still.
Tristan could almost see the calculations behind Nico’s eyes—Bryce was poised and ready to attack, Colby was still refusing to submit to him, and he didn’t have a hope in hell of getting to Jesse right now.
Whatever advantage he’d thought he had was gone.
And then something in Nico’s posture changed, became softer, more open. Tristan stiffened. He didn’t know what move Nico had up his sleeve, but he knew it scared him.
“Come with me, Colby,” Nico said, his voice gentle. “We can go. Just you and me, like we’re meant to be.”
The words settled into the silence, soft but heavy. Tristan was shaking his head, willing Colby not to listen. Nico made it sound so easy, so tempting, like surrender was peace. Like giving in would mean no more struggle.
Colby didn’t say anything. But Tristan saw his reaction in the way his breath hitched, his body swayed.
That promise must have meant something, once. It had been a lie, but a beautiful one. And for a second, Tristan saw just how badly Colby must have wanted to believe it.
Which made his stillness now all the more powerful. It was hard-won and quietly unbreakable. And Tristan, watching him hold his ground, felt a fierce, aching pride.
“Get out,” Bryce said, his voice deep, with a tension running through it that said his patience was done.
Nico’s smile was supposed to look confident as he turned away, but something behind it looked oddly like pain. There was no trace of it, though, in his voice as he spoke over his shoulder to Colby.
“You’ll come back to me begging when they find out what you really are.”
And then he disappeared swiftly and silently into the trees. Almost as if he’d never been there at all.
Without warning, Colby staggered. He caught himself on a tree trunk, his chest heaving for air that didn’t come.
Tristan was at his side in an instant and held on, until Colby could remember how to breathe.