CHAPTER 34
WOLF
The fire doesn’t just ravage my building, it annihilates everything inside me, sending shockwaves so deep I feel as if my very soul is being torn apart.
I stand there, frozen. My body has forgotten how to belong.
Sparks drift upward like frantic lightning bugs.
They catch in my hair and cling to my clothes before winking out.
I snap back, shielding Windy with one arm as the sign buckles inward with a groan.
The sound is so raw I feel it in my chest.
Smoke curls around us, thick and bitter at the same time. The air tastes like charred sugar and ruined dreams.
“I should have protected this place better,” I say to no one, feeling my soul practically slip from my body.
My eyes sting. Is it smoke or emotion? Grief presses down on me, hardening each breath. Everything I built—each late night, every stubborn hope—sizzles in the flames; then, it collapses before me.
I don’t move.
I can’t even breathe.
I’m just stuck in time. I’m lost somewhere deep inside myself, drifting through the hollowness of purpose and pride as it all falls down around me.
Windy wraps her arms around me as much as she can.
She tries to comfort me, but nothing can help after losing something this big.
Besides my pack, Luscious has been my entire life since I opened it years ago.
It’s the first real thing I’ve done alone.
My father is a silent partner in Luscious.
Until he wanted me to fulfill my inheritance, he’d stayed silent. Now it’s all for nothing.
“It will all be okay.” I break my gaze with the fire to peer down at her. She looks so innocent, so mesmerizing.
“You should’ve stayed at home in your condition,” I murmur.
She gives me a sad smile. “Don’t worry about me, Wolf. I’m fine.”
“Famous words of all women.”
She gives a small giggle. “I see what you’re doing,” she says. “It’s not going to work.”
“What am I trying to do?”
She purses her lips while cocking a brow. “To lighten the mood and distract me. It’s not going to work.”
The distant wail of sirens cut through the cloud of fire and smoke. They grow louder until the night pulses with red and white lights. Fire trucks skid to a stop. Boots hit the pavement. Voices shout orders to everyone. But it all feels so far away, like I’m underwater.
Then warmth slams into me from the side.
Arms wrap around me in a hug that instantly softens me.
All the fight leaves me as pride walks out the door, and I succumb to the need of wanting someone to be there for me.
I inhale sharply, and Amos’s scent fills me.
I wrap an arm around him as he pulls me away from Windy.
Smoke clings to his uniform. His scent spirals around me, making me feel steady and grounded.
My eyes fall shut, and I lean into him, allowing him to take the brunt of my weight.
My fingers curl into his uniform like I’m afraid he’ll disappear, just like everything else is in my life, one thing right after another.
His chest rises and falls against mine, and for a moment, the world stops collapsing around me.
His voice is low, controlled, yet roughened by smoke and urgency. “As soon as I can, I’ll be back. Stay strong.”
The way he says it makes me believe he’s trying to keep me from breaking apart.
It’s the way he talks and the way he wrapped his arms around me.
I can’t say I blame him because I feel like I’m ripping apart at the seams. But before I can say anything, he’s gone, pulled away by duty.
He throws his helmet on as he runs full mast toward the flames, the chaos consuming him as he rushes.
His absence leaves a cold imprint against my skin, the shape of him that is terrified I’m going to lose that, along with everything else.
I stand there, Windy and Finian wrap their arms around me, holding me back from breaking completely. I watch as the fire devours a part of my life I spent so long creating.
Now, everything we did was for nothing. Rejecting Windy was for absolutely nothing. There is no inheritance. Nothing. The flames are eating that up at a quick pace, and there’s nothing I can do about it except stand here and watch as it all drifts away.
The relief that no one was inside hits me sharp in the gut. It’s overwhelming and almost knocks me over. I cling to the knowledge that no one was hurt. Relief is palpable, slowly easing some of the ache inside me. But not a lot.
Windy sways beside me, exhaustion softening her posture.
Her eyes grow heavy. I know being here is taking a toll on her.
By staying strong for me, she weakens herself.
Her shoulders droop. Her blinks grow slower and longer.
My hand at the small of her back, I lead her to the car.
She doesn’t argue. I open the door, and help her in.
She sinks into the seat with a quiet exhale.
For a moment, I stand there, watching her, grateful she’s safe and here.
“Are you okay?” I look her over.
She releases a sigh, rubbing her stomach. I love it when she does that. Even during the darkest hour, she can make me smile by lovingly rubbing her belly. It makes me anticipate the arrival of our baby girl that much more. If only she weren’t coming into chaos.
“I’m just fine, but I think I’ll rest here a moment. Go do what you need to do. I’m okay.”
“If you’re sure.” When she nods, I head off in the direction of the remains of my nightclub.
The hours drag, long, smoky, and endless. Finally, the fire trucks leave, the lights and sirens fading with them. Smoke rises from the remains of my club as the fire chief walks over, helmet tucked under his arm, his face streaked with soot.
“The place will be marked off just in case it flares back up.” Controlled, but not safe. Contained, but not whole. I nod, but the words hardly breach my thoughts.
“Thank you, sir. We appreciate everything you all have done.”
“No problem, Mr. Rothschild. I’m very sorry for what happened. Luscious was a staple in Cedar Hill.”
I nod, not acknowledging him further than that. There’s nothing I can say that will bring Luscious back. Nothing I can do, either.
When the last truck pulls away, silence settles over everything. We stay, of course, waiting for reality to hit. I can't make myself believe Luscious is really gone, despite watching it burn down.
I’m just confused. We have specific fire prevention for Luscious, yet somehow it still spread this far, this fast. If this were a regular fire, that wouldn’t happen. The more I think about it, the more I wonder: how? Why? It feels sinister—planned, even.
I look back at Windy to see her head leaning back against the headrest. I war within myself on whether to go back to her or check it out.
“Let’s check it out and get home. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow,” Finian says, directing me toward the wreckage.
Finian falls into step beside me without another word. His expression is carved from stone, unreadable but intense. One look at him tells me everything I need to know: he’s close to the edge, and we don’t need to push or joke or try to lighten the mood as I did earlier.
So I don’t.
I walk with him, the two of us moving through the smoke and the quiet like we’re stepping into the aftermath of a life I’m not sure how to rebuild.
Finian and I poke around, searching what’s left behind.
He moves off in the opposite direction while I head toward where my office once stood.
With every step, my boots sink into ashy sludge.
The ground is uneven—charred beams, twisted metal, fragments of what once were walls, shelves, and remnants of my life.
Nudging the muck with my shoe, I feel emotions tremble inside me.
Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to break in front of Finian and Windy; I refuse to look weak.
I’m not really looking for anything; I just need to move.
My foot hits something solid. Not wood or metal.
Something dense, with weight. I crouch, brush away the ashy sludge until a small, brick-sized shape emerges.
It’s wrapped in what looks like flame-retardant covering, the material darkened but intact.
It feels out of place here, too deliberate, too protected.
“This isn’t mine,” I wonder out loud.
I reach out and touch it. It’s cold, shockingly cold from the water they blasted through the building.
That alone makes my breath catch in my throat.
I pick it up, turning it over in my hands.
One corner looks like it’s ripped, the fabric frayed.
I slip my fingers into the rip and pull, feeling it pull away the rest of the way.
What I see inside stops me cold.
A video camera. Small, compact, and unmistakable.
And ... a creased note.
My entire body goes rigid. The night air feels like it’s thinning too much, like I can’t pull in enough. I force my fingers to move, to unfold the note even though something is telling me not to.
I take in the manly handwriting. It’s familiar in a way it shouldn’t be, but I just don’t know where I’ve seen it before. Then ... the words.
Just like that, everything snaps into place. Every strange moment. Every uneasy feeling. Every single detail I brushed off or couldn’t make sense of. It all clicks together with a clarity that makes me feel cold and unnerved. It practically makes my skin crawl.
She’s mine.