11. Sloane
ELEVEN
SLOANE
Sloane was in her presidential suite, staring at the scattered clothes from the general store that she'd dumped across the king-sized bed in her haste to pack.
Her hands trembled as she began to shove jeans and blouses into her worn duffel bag, the same bag that had carried her meager possessions from foster home to foster home, job to job, apartment to apartment for the past fourteen years.
The image of Ronan's transformation kept replaying in her mind like a broken film reel.
One moment he'd been the composed, protective lodge manager who made her pulse race with nothing more than a touch of his hand.
The next, he'd been a massive black wolf with sapphire eyes, moving with lethal precision to tear apart three grey wolves that had been stalking toward her with obvious intent to kill.
She'd never fainted in her life. Not when her mother died.
Not during her worst foster placements. Not even during her most brutal underground fights.
But watching reality literally shift before her eyes—seeing a man she was falling for transform into an apex predator—had been too much for her defenses to handle.
Ronan and Kozue are wolf shifters, she thought, cramming a new pair of jeans into the bag. Actual wolves who can shift into human form and back again. And I had sex with one of them.
The memory of Kozue's hands on her body, the way he'd looked at her like she was something precious and desired, now felt surreal. She'd been intimate with a creature that could tear her apart with his bare hands—or teeth and claws, depending on which form he chose.
But that wasn't what terrified her most.
What terrified her was how safe she'd felt in his arms last night.
Or how right it had seemed when Ronan touched her shoulder this morning and electricity shot through her entire nervous system.
Or how much she'd begun to hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd finally found a place where she could stay.
Too good to be true, she muttered, zipping the duffel bag closed with force. It was always too good to be true.
The underground fighting world had been dangerous, but it was a danger she understood. Human predators with human motivations. Money, power, fame. Simple, brutal, predictable.
This world—Hale Lodge with its warm hospitality and breathtaking views and two impossibly attractive men who made her feel things she'd never felt before—was something else entirely.
A primal, supernatural danger that operated by rules she didn't know and couldn't learn fast enough to protect herself.
She slung the duffel bag over her shoulder and moved toward the suite door, her mind already calculating her next steps. She had enough cash to get to Seattle, maybe Portland. Find a new fighting circuit. Start over.
Again.
Her hand was on the doorknob when her phone rang from inside the duffel bag, and Sloane froze in her tracks.
She'd completely forgotten she even owned a phone, lost as she'd been in the emotional chaos of the past two days.
The sound felt foreign, intrusive, like a voice from a life she'd already decided to abandon.
She dropped the bag and dug through her clothes until her fingers found the familiar weight of her smartphone. The screen lit up with Tasha's name, and Sloane's chest tightened with unexpected relief as she answered the phone.
"Oh, thank God," Tasha's voice came through the speaker. "Are you okay? Did you find somewhere safe?"
Sloane sank onto the ground. "I'm fine. I found a safer place for a few nights, but I probably can't stay here."
"Why? If it's safe, maybe you should stay put for a while. Especially because those two men have come back. They're poking around looking for you, and they aren't too happy that we beat them up."
Ice flooded Sloane's veins. "Oh my God, Tasha, are you safe? Did they threaten you?"
"I'm fine," Tasha replied, her voice carrying that familiar calm confidence that had made Sloane trust her. "I made it very clear to them that if they kept poking around my fighting circuit, they'd find worse trouble than a bruised ego."
But Sloane could hear something underneath Tasha's casual tone—a tension that suggested the situation was more serious than she was letting on. The guilt hit her hard. By running, she'd put one of the few people she cared about in danger.
"Tasha, you aren't safe," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "Those two guys aren't just regular muscle. They're wolf shifters."
The silence on the other end of the line stretched so long that Sloane thought the call had dropped.
"Holy shit," Tasha finally breathed. "Real-life werewolves?"
"Yes, I'm pretty sure. Because I got attacked today by three wolves, and the guy whose lodge I'm staying at turned into a wolf and protected me. So yeah, now I don't know what to do or what to think."
Tasha let out a low whistle. "Well, I would say you stepped into a world that seemed impossible, but it also seems like you found a man willing to protect you with his life. So maybe you shouldn't run from whatever that means."
Sloane stood up and began pacing the length of the suite's sitting area.
"That's the thing, Tasha. This manager, Ronan, and his assistant manager, Kozue—they seem like they're really attracted to me, like beyond anything that makes sense.
And what's worse is I'm attracted to both of them beyond anything that makes sense. "
She stopped in front of the massive sectional where she and Kozue had made love less than twenty-four hours ago, and the memory sent heat through her body despite her fear.
"I should just leave this place. Move to Washington. Get out of Oregon. Start over and forget any of this happened."
"Sloane," Tasha's voice carried a gentleness that was rare for her. "I know we've only known each other for a year, and I don't know your full story, but I know you deserve good things. And this sounds like it could be a pretty good thing if you just gave it a chance."
Sloane closed her eyes, pressing her free hand against her forehead. "How can I stay somewhere that's run by a wolf pack? Where the two managers—probably their Alpha and Beta—have some sort of thing for me?"
"Well, from where I'm standing, I don't see the problem," Tasha replied with characteristic bluntness. "You have two natural protectors who seem to care about you and your safety. And you found a place that can offer you that safety and maybe something pretty special."
The words hit harder than Sloane expected, because they echoed the treacherous hope that had been building in her chest since the moment she'd arrived at Hale Lodge. The hope that she'd tried so hard to crush.
Sloane was silent for a long moment, staring out the suite's tall windows at the forest beyond.
Somewhere out there, Ronan and Kozue were probably leading their guests on that nature hike, being the competent, caring leaders she'd glimpsed over the past two days.
Men who'd offered her work, protection, and something that felt dangerously close to belonging.
"Maybe you're right," Sloane said finally. "Maybe I should stay for a little longer. Just until I figure out if it's really safe. Or if I can really trust these men."
"Well, whatever you decide, just keep me updated," Tasha said. "But Sloane? You really can't come back here, and I don't think you should go off alone if there are wolves hunting you."
"I promise I won't do anything stupid."
A sharp knock at her suite door made Sloane's heart jump into her throat.
"Tasha, I need to go."
Sloane's heart hammered as she crossed the suite to answer the door.
Her phone call with Tasha had left her feeling raw, like every carefully constructed wall she'd built over the years was crumbling faster than she could repair them.
The last thing she needed was another conversation that would strip away more of her defenses.
When she pulled open the heavy door, Kozue stood in the hallway holding a silver tray laden with what looked like homemade sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a steaming mug of coffee. His green eyes carried a weight of guilt that made her chest tighten despite her resolve to stay angry with him.
Good, she thought with bitter satisfaction. He should feel guilty for abandoning me this morning after the most incredible night of my life.
But even as the thought formed, she couldn't ignore how the sight of him made her heart beat faster.
His dark brown hair was slightly disheveled, as if he'd been running his hands through it, and his forest green henley clung to his broad shoulders in a way that made her remember exactly how those muscles had felt beneath her palms just hours ago.
She didn't speak. Couldn't speak. Instead, she stood there cataloging every detail of his face—the way his jaw tightened with obvious nerves, and how his eyes searched hers for some sign of forgiveness she wasn't ready to give.
"I'm sorry about this morning," he said finally, his deep voice rough with emotion. "I shouldn't have bolted. I just wasn't sure how to handle the intense feelings I had."
The raw honesty in his admission caught her off guard.
She'd expected excuses, maybe some casual dismissal of what had happened between them.
Not this vulnerable confession that made her defenses waver despite her determination to stay guarded.
Some of the tension in her shoulders eased, though she kept her expression carefully neutral.
Kozue lifted the tray slightly, offering a tentative smile. "Peace offering?"
Despite everything—her confusion, her hurt, the world-tilting revelations of the past few hours—Sloane found herself stepping aside to let him enter. She couldn't bring herself to slam the door in his face, not when he looked like a man genuinely wrestling with his conscience.