20. Sam
Chapter twenty
Sam
Ihad forty-eight hours. Maybe less.
Two days before Talia sent enforcers to Three Rivers looking for revenge.
I had to make sure Annabella was safe before that, had to make sure my brothers and their Pack would be safe.
If Annabella saw what Webster was really doing, she wouldn’t go back to him; she would stay here, where Ryan and Derek and Mason could protect her.
But the only way to do that was to convince Annabella that everything she had believed for the last few years that everything Webster had told her was a lie.
Piece of cake.
I pulled up to the Shaw house and killed the engine.
The place looked the same from the outside: dark, weathered wood siding, wraparound porch, the pines pressing close like they were trying to keep a secret.
Derek’s SUV was already gone. He had a meeting at Shaw Investigations, briefing Gideon and Ryan on how to handle the Council if Talia couldn’t be convinced to play along with the story that she’d authorized Annabella’s release.
If that fell through, we were looking at a full incursion.
War. Three Rivers versus the fucking Wolf Council.
Just another Tuesday in the Shaw family.
From the passenger seat, Sofia was already unbuckling. “Home sweet home! Well, your temporary home sweet home, anyway.”
In the backseat, Annabella hadn’t spoken since we’d left Thomas and Wally’s place.
She’d spent the drive staring out the window as Three Rivers passed by—the market, the community center, the houses scattered through the pines.
Her face gave nothing away, but I caught the way her fingers tapped against her knee in a rhythmic pattern.
Four taps, pause, four taps. It was an intelligence-gathering trick.
She was counting buildings. Mapping exits. Planning for an escape.
My wolf was restless, pressing against the underside of my skin. Annabella was sitting less than three feet away, and every instinct I had was screaming at me to be closer, to touch her, to make sure she was okay.
Control yourself, Shaw.
Sofia’s phone buzzed before we’d opened the car doors.
“Oh, for the love of—” She stared at her screen. “It’s Julie. The espresso machine is smoking. Again.” She held up the phone so we could see the picture: the Bottley’s interior filled with black haze, Julie’s horrified face in the foreground. “I swear that thing is possessed.”
“Go,” I said. “I’ve got this.”
A flicker of panic flashed across Annabella’s face. Quick and bright before she smothered it. Annabella McGrath, badass terrorist, spooked by the prospect of being alone with me in a house.
I grinned. She was so in love with me.
“I’ll be back in an hour. Two tops. Sam, show her Mason’s room, the bathroom, where we keep the good snacks. And don’t let her overdo it.”
“I’m not five,” Annabella said dryly.
“No, but you’re stubborn, which is worse.” Sofia was already opening her door. “Sam, I’m serious. Make sure she rests.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Your best better be good enough.” But she was smiling as she climbed out. She leaned back in to look at Annabella. “I really am sorry. But I promise we’ll do the full cousin bonding thing later. Movie night. Ice cream. The works.”
“Sure. Looking forward to it,” Annabella said, and she almost sounded like she meant it.
Sofia took off at a jog.
Which left me alone with my mate.
I climbed out and opened Annabella’s door. She was already moving before I could offer a hand, gripping the door frame and sliding out with a grimace that meant everything hurt but she’d die before admitting it.
“You good?” I asked.
“Fine.”
“Right. Because you look completely comfortable and not at all like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m not going to pass out.”
“You know, in my experience, that’s exactly what people say right before they pass out.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re annoying?”
“Daily. Usually it’s Gid, though, so it doesn’t count.”
Her mouth shifted. Not quite a smile, but a softening around the edges that made my heart skip a beat.
I kept pace beside her as we headed for the porch.
Close enough to catch her if she stumbled, far enough that she wouldn’t notice I was doing it.
The trick with Annabella was making her think everything was her idea.
Push too hard, and she’d lock down out of sheer bloody-mindedness.
Give her space, and she’d inch forward on her own terms.
I opened the front door and let her go in first.
The living room spread out in front of us. I watched Annabella take it in, and for a second, I tried to see the place through her eyes.
The massive leather couch with its ridiculous number of throw pillows in jewel tones.
The stone fireplace with the mantle crowded with framed photos: Derek and Sofia at the Bottley, Ryan and Mai laughing with the twins, Mason and Shya in wolf form, the four of us brothers at a fishing trip years ago, looking young and stupid and happy.
The bookshelf stuffed with everything from true crime paperbacks to Derek’s military history collection to the romance novels Sofia consumed like other people consumed air.
It was messy. Lived-in. Real.
Annabella moved through the room with that analytical intensity she brought to everything.
Fingers trailing along the back of the couch, pausing at the bookshelf, lingering on the mantle.
She picked up the fishing trip photo. Four Shaw brothers, squinting into the sun, Ryan with the only fish anyone caught that day.
Mason grinning. Derek looking like standing in sunshine personally offended him.
Me, fourteen, making bunny ears behind Derek’s head.
“It’s…” She paused, like she was searching for the right word. “Homey.”
“Not what you expected from the Shaw House?”
“I knew Sofia lived here. I guess I just thought…” She gestured vaguely. “I don’t know. You Shaw brothers are kinda intense. I guess I just figured…”
“It’d be all intelligence reports, and weapons on the walls?”
“Well, yeah.”
“There is a weapons wall, but it’s in Derek and Sofia’s bedroom. And the knife collection is Sofia’s.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Knife collection?”
I nodded. “Sofia likes knives. She’s got about thirty of them.
Derek keeps adding to it; buys her a new blade as often as he can.
They used to be displayed all over the house, but after Ryan and Mai’s kids came along and proved they could get into literally everything, they moved the whole collection to the bedroom. ”
That got a genuine smile. “I think I’m gonna like Sofia.”
Her gaze moved to the kitchen through the open archway, the stainless steel appliances, the marble-topped island, the coffee mugs with slogans on them. The vase of wildflowers.
“Help yourself to anything in here,” I said.
“They keep it stocked like they’re prepping for a siege.
Derek won’t admit it, but he watches cooking shows when he thinks no one’s home.
Office is through there…” I gestured to the closed door.
“That’s Derek’s command center. Multiple screens, every security feed in Three Rivers, definitely a few that aren’t legal. ”
“And upstairs?”
“Bedrooms. Bathrooms. The guest room is first door on the left. That’s yours now.” I paused. “Mine’s right next to it.”
She looked at me, and something flickered in her expression.
Then she shook her head softly and moved to the window.
From here, you could see the Alpha House next door.
It looked like any neighborhood, Mai and Ryan had worked hard to make sure of it.
It was normal. Safe. Pack life. Everything Annabella had been taught to see as the enemy.
“Wally and Thomas, Amara and Ben. They seemed happy. They’re not afraid.”
“Why would they be afraid?”
“Most Packs…” She stopped, reconsidered. “In my old Pack, there was always this undercurrent of fear. Of stepping out of line. Of not being strong enough. Of being seen as weak.”
“Three Rivers isn’t like that. We look after everyone.”
“So I’m learning.” She pressed her hand against the window, and I caught the slight tremor in her fingers.
“How about I show you upstairs? Get you settled before Sofia comes back and redesigns your entire room.”
“Sure. I think I could do with a lie down.”
I led her up the stairs, taking them slowly, hyperaware of every careful step she took. At the top, I pushed open the first door on the left.
The guest room had been transformed so thoroughly that I almost stood in the doorway trying to work out if we were in the right house.
The bed had been made up with soft bedding in muted blues, throw pillows arranged perfectly.
Fresh flowers on the nightstand, candles on the dresser.
A stack of books that was pure Sofia: half romance novels, half cozy mysteries, because apparently, she thought everyone’s reading taste should mirror her own.
A reading chair by the window with a throw blanket draped over it.
Annabella stopped just inside the threshold.
Her hand found the doorframe and held on.
I knew that look. I’d seen it on the faces of wolves who’d spent too long alone and forgotten what it felt like to walk into a room that someone had made ready for them.
Not a barracks or a safe house or a borrowed corner in someone else’s space.
A room that said, “This is yours, you belong here, we were expecting you.”
Annabella moved slowly into the space, her fingers trailing over the soft bedding. “You guys didn’t have to do all this for me.”
“Try telling Sofia that. She was on a mission.” I pointed to a door on the far wall. “Ensuite bathroom through there. It’s all yours; towels, toiletries, the works.”
“She really did go all out.”
“That’s Sofia. When she cares about someone, she’ll do anything for them.”
Annabella went still. I studied her trying to work out what had happened.
She was glancing around the room looking at it like it might disappear.
She reached out and touched the throw blanket on the reading chair, then pulled her hand back like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t allowed to do.
And I understood, with a clarity that made my chest ache, that it had been a really long time since anyone made a room ready for Annabella McGrath.
Since someone had arranged pillows and lit candles and thought, “She’ll like this, this will make her feel safe.
” She’d spent her whole life sleeping in places she might need to flee from.
Borrowed corners. Safe houses. Then the cell in the Kennel.
Something savage tore through me. Not anger at her—never at her. Anger at everyone who’d taught her that caring came with conditions. That love was a transaction. That the people closest to you were the ones most likely to use you up and walk away.
She was ours. It was a vow. No one would touch her again.
No one would leave her behind again. I wanted so badly to show her what Pack meant.
What a mate meant. If I had a choice, I’d show her every single day until she stopped flinching when someone did something kind.
But the clock was ticking, and I had made a deal with Talia.
Annabella’s chin came up. “How long am I expected to stay?” she asked, an edge sliding into her voice.
And there it was. The armor back in place.
“You’re not being made to stay here, Annabella. You’re here to heal.”
“And then what? I’m free to go?”
I leaned against the doorframe. “And go where?”
Her jaw tightened. “That’s none of your business.”
“Seriously, what’s your plan here? Go back to Webster? Get the old crew back together? Duke, Lydia?”
She crossed her arms and glared at me. “That’s none of your business, either.”
Fear clawed at me. That she’d heal, she’d leave, and she’d go straight back to Webster. Back to his influence. Back to his lies. He’d send her out to do his dirty work again, and next time, she might end up dead.
I got that he had given her a mission. But it was Webster’s mission, not hers.
She didn’t know the truth, and that meant she was standing in a room that Sofia had filled with flowers and soft blankets and books, surrounded by people who actually gave a damn about her, and she was planning her exit route back to the man who’d let her rot in Adarcan.
I couldn’t let that happen. I had two days, and then I would probably never see her again. Two days to make sure she was safe, protected. Two days to convince her of the truth. I had to do it. Even if it meant tearing down every wall she’d built around Webster. Even if it meant she hated me for it.
Better she hate me and live than love Webster and die.