Chapter Three #2
Probably the one Jex slammed like a sledgehammer. Jex plants a boot between the man’s shoulder blades and snarls, “You picked the wrong fucking house.”
Fox wipes his blade on the guy’s vest and exhales, the tension in his shoulders barely easing. “We need answers. But I think it’s safe to say they weren’t here to deliver a fruit basket.”
I roll my jaw, then swipe my sleeve across my mouth, smearing sweat and blood. I turn and head back to the bedroom.
The second the door creaks open, I see her. Violet hasn’t moved. Still crouched, still ready, blade in hand. Eyes alert, expression unreadable. Her chest rises and falls slow and steady—controlled. Focused.
“It’s clear,” I say softly.
She exhales, pushing to her feet, but doesn’t relax. Doesn’t sheath her knife either.
That’s my girl.
She steps into the hallway and sees them—the three restrained intruders on her living room floor.
One unconscious. Two bleeding. All handled.
Her gaze sweeps over them, then up to the bullet hole in the wall.
Her expression doesn’t change. But then she tilts her head.
Lifts one brow. “Well,” she says, dry as the desert, “that was fucking rude. ”
My body stutters between a laugh and a groan, and I move on instinct—wrapping her in my arms, hauling her close, crushing her against me like I’ll never get enough.
“You’re unreal,” I murmur against her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She still smells like lemon frosting and fury—sweet and sharp, sunshine wrapped in switchblades—my favorite combination.
She sighs against me, the tension in her shoulders finally giving in as she melts into my chest. Her knife is still in one hand, but the edge of her cheek brushes against my skin, soft and warm. The slight motion—barely there—is instinctive, like she’s grounding herself in touch.
My purr rumbles to life before I can stop it, low and deep in my chest. It vibrates between us, and I feel her melt. She’s safe now.
I tighten my arms around her, just a bit.
Protective. Possessive. Grateful. Over her shoulder, I spot Fox leaning against the wall, his pistol now holstered but his body still tense, still watching.
His eyes are on Violet, and they’re soft in a way that’s rare for him, but also trained right at her bare legs.
I notice the way he subtly shifts his stance, adjusting himself with a grimace that makes me smirk.
I am in the same boat, to be honest.
He catches my look and flips me off without breaking eye contact, but there’s no heat in it—just that shared, silent language between brothers. I mouth, suffer, and his eyes narrow in return. Jex huffs a quiet breath nearby, clearly biting back a laugh of his own.
Violet makes a soft, curious sound and pulls back just far enough to glance up at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say smoothly, brushing a knuckle down the curve of her jaw. “Just enjoying the view.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she lets herself lean in again, cheek resting right over my heart. And I swear, for one perfect second, everything goes still.
Violet
May 20th
3:10 A.M
Men broke into my house. My house. Armed men. I am both furious and absolutely fucking terrified.
If my mates hadn’t been here… I swallow the thought down before it can fully form because I know exactly what would have happened. These men weren’t here to scare me. They weren’t here to steal my stuff.
They came to kill me.
The realization sits heavy in my chest, cold and sharp. My hands tremble slightly as I glance around, my gaze landing on my back door. A pane of glass is missing, a jagged hole where they must’ve slipped inside.
My breathing is too fast, my pulse hammering at the inside of my skull, but I force myself to move forward. I won’t let them see fear.
One of the men still groans on the floor, his body twisted awkwardly where Jex and Dare left him after the fight. I crouch beside him, tilting my head as I twirl the knife in my grip. Then I tap the flat side against his cheek, coaxing his dazed eyes open until we’re eye to eye.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to break things in someone else’s house?” I ask, voice light, almost conversational.
Dare snorts out a quiet laugh, and I hear Fox mutter something under his breath, but before I can press further, Jex loops an arm around my waist and hauls me back against him. I stiffen at first, but then I breathe him in—dark espresso and chocolate, rich and grounding—and my pulse slows.
I am safe.
For now.
Fox crouches by the two other men, both still slumped over. With a sharp slap to the cheek, he rouses the first one, and when that doesn’t work, he grabs the second by the collar of his tactical vest and gives him a rough shake.
“Rise and shine, motherfuckers.”
The groggy one coughs, his head lolling as he blinks awake. His eyes sharpen the second he takes in the room, flicking between Jex, Dare, and Fox. Then they land on me.
And something like recognition flickers in them. Not because he knows me, but because he knows them. “Well, shit,” the guy mutters, voice gravelly. He looks at Fox and snorts. “They said you defected. Didn’t think it was true.”
Fox tilts his head, unimpressed. “And yet here you are. In my mate’s house. Uninvited.”
The man doesn’t reply, his mouth pressing into a thin line, but the second guy—the one Fox slapped awake—scoffs. “Didn’t think you three would be stupid enough to turn your backs on the people who made you.”
Jex growls low in his throat, and I feel the way his grip tightens around my waist. Dare steps forward, crouching beside Fox. “We left because we saw exactly what kind of people they are. Looks like they haven’t changed.”
The first man lets out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it, do you? You think leaving was a choice? You think they’d just let you walk?”
Fox grabs his chin roughly, forcing him to look at him. “Then why send you here?”
The man sneers, but Fox doesn’t let go. Doesn’t let him dodge the question. Finally, after a long, tense pause, the guy spits out, “Because your boss put a kill order on her.”
The room goes silent. My breath stalls in my throat, a cold weight pressing into my chest. Jex goes completely still behind me, his hold tightening just enough to keep me from stepping forward. Dare’s jaw ticks, and Fox…
Fox barely reacts. He exhales slowly, then leans in close.
“See, that’s where you fucked up,” he murmurs. “Because now, we have a problem.”
The man glares at him. “You think this stops with us? You think taking us out will change anything? If you let us go, we will come back. And if we don’t? Someone else will. Over and over again until the job is done.” A sick feeling curls in my stomach.
Fox releases his grip, standing slowly. His face is unreadable, but his body is coiled with something dark, something violent. Jex shifts behind me, speaking for the first time. “We can’t let them go.” The words hang in the air like a death sentence.
I swallow, my throat tight. “You mean—”
Dare cuts in, voice steady but firm. “If we turn them in, their boss will buy them out. They’ll walk free and come right back. At least we know they can’t send the best after her. Since you know we are the best.” He throws me a wink. I almost smile.
The gravity of the situation sinks in, deep and heavy. I stare down at the three men, at their expressions—hardened, resigned. They knew what they signed up for. There is no running from this. No locking them up and hoping for the best.
It’s them.
Or me.
Fox watches me carefully, his sharp blue-gray eyes taking in every flicker of emotion across my face. “You don’t have to be involved in this part, doll,” he murmurs, softer now. “But you need to understand—this doesn’t end until they do.”
I tighten my grip on my knife. My pulse pounds. I want to be sick. I want to scream. But more than that—
I want to live.
I meet Fox’s eyes. “Then do what needs to be done.”
Chapter Four
Violet
May 20th
10:12 A.M
Their house is nothing like I thought it would be.
Not even close.
If you'd asked me to guess, I would've painted something sleek and cold—a modern fortress of steel and glass perched on a cliffside, all straight lines, chrome, and the kind of tight-lipped security that made you feel like even thinking about touching something would get you detained.
I imagined a sterile interior with polished floors, with no warmth, the kind of place designed to intimidate and impress, but never actually feel like I lived in it .
Instead… this.
We’re parked at the end of a winding dirt road, the world around us swallowed by a dense forest of towering trees.
The scent of earth is thick in the air—wet moss, fallen leaves, and cool wind cutting through the branches like a whispered warning.
It’s wild out here. Remote. Untouched. Like something out of a dream or an old forgotten memory.
I didn’t even know Chicago had places like this. We must be on the outskirts.
It feels like we’ve slipped through some invisible curtain—left the noise and chaos behind and stepped into a world where nothing and no one can reach us: a sanctuary or a trap. I haven’t decided which yet.
The gravel crunches under my boots as I step out of the truck, a quiet sound swallowed by the stillness of the woods. My eyes lift slowly, tracing the full height of the structure in front of me.
Calling it a house feels wrong.
It’s too solid, too intentional. This isn’t a house. It’s a home built to keep people safe.