Chapter Nine #13
He looked around the kitchen, at the neat rows of spice jars, the folded towels. Everything had a place, and Kevin had been helping to make it their home.
“Are you sure you’re not upset with me?” This kind of silence was making Kevin crazy. “Maybe you changed your mind about… me.”
Rio stared at Kevin like he was daft.
“You’re mine.”
Kevin grinned. “So possessive. I’m eating it up.”
“Try eating up your food.” Rio’s nodded at his plate. “I want you. End of story.”
Despite the numerous times Kevin had let his doubt take over, Rio had never backed down.
The first faint glow of sunrise touched the window, streaks of pink barely lighting the sky past the kitchen. He realized, suddenly, how tired he was.
“I should sleep,” Kevin said, squeezing the bridge of his nose.
Rio jerked his chin toward the hallway. “Go get some sleep.”
Kevin padded down the hall, every muscle twinged as he eased onto the mattress. The sheets were crisp, the pillows cool under his head. He stared at the ceiling until Rio sat on the edge of the bed.
He expected another round of questions, maybe an argument about going out into the parking lot.
Instead, Rio crawled in behind him, pressing his face into Kevin’s neck. “I’m just grounding myself with your scent. I’ve never been that terrified in my life, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with that fear.
Kevin slid his hand over Rio’s. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
Chapter Nine
Rio stuck to the shadows, Izan in his sights.
The guy lived in a large home, just arriving moments earlier.
The wolf was going down for backhanding Kevin but also because Ameer had been the guy’s enforcer.
Rio couldn’t stomach it. Every time he pictured Kevin braced in that corner, wrists zip-tied and face torn up, his hands curled into fists that nearly snapped the steering wheel.
Izan had to pay for what he’d done—not just to Kevin but to everyone he thought he could grind under his heel.
Ameer had been the brute, but it was Izan pulling the strings. That stopped tonight.
Fog rolled low along the ground. Crimson Hollow’s side streets blurred past then vanished behind a thick patch of pines.
Rio checked the address Zeppelin had texted one more time then followed the gravel drive as it wound up the hillside.
Izan’s lair squatted at the end, a double-story house built like a cheap lodge, wood siding already splitting around the windows, the porch light blown out.
Not welcoming. Not even fake-friendly. Someone had tried to rip the numbers off the mailbox and given up halfway.
No wolves loitered outside. No enforcers posted out front, just one battered pickup and Izan’s monstrous black SUV.
Rio killed the headlights and coasted to a stop. Rain slicked the drive and made every sound dampen. He got out slowly, taking a second to listen and smell. Cedar. Wet mulch. The faint acid reek of wolf even from here, but nothing moved inside the house.
He walked up the porch, his boots silent on the boards. Each step tensed his jaw. He wanted to look calm. Unbothered. He wanted to make sure Izan’s last memory was Rio’s face, cold and steady, staring him down as he bled out for the pack to find.
No knock. He shouldered the front door open and stepped into darkness.
Rio paused just inside. The living room was a joke of hideous plaid couches and a TV nailed to the wall. He spotted the fireplace, unused, and the stack of unpaid bills crammed behind a wooden bowl on the credenza. If this was meant to impress, Izan had failed.
Rio kept moving. Hardwood creaked underfoot. He moved toward the kitchen, blinking at the cheap fluorescent tube lighting. The fridge hummed. Izan stood at the kitchen island, mug in hand, posture weirdly relaxed.
No guards. No Jireh. Just Izan, all by himself.
Izan smirked. “You look lost. Cat get turned around in the rain?”
Rio ignored that and kept his hands loose at his sides.
Rain tapped at the window. Some wind rattled the glass, but the only other noise came from the fridge and the low, almost bored tone of Izan’s voice.
“Got guts, I’ll give you that,” Izan said, lifting the mug. “Not sure you got anything else, considering how you let my men walk straight into your restaurant and take your mate.” He sipped then smiled. “If it makes you feel any better, the impala was a pain in my ass, too.”
Rio didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He watched Izan for any flicker of a tell. The man liked to talk. That was a weakness. He never saw the real threat until it was in his lap.
“You here to trade threats or suck your thumb and hope I apologize?” Izan set the mug down with a tap.
“You’re finished.” Rio kept it simple.
Izan’s mouth twisted into something ugly. “Funny, doesn’t look like I’m the one with broken ribs and a black eye.”
“You lost.” Rio eyed the kitchen, checked the walls and corners. No traps. Nothing to tip him off except for the knife block behind Izan’s left elbow and the cheap .38 taped under the counter. He could spot both without looking.
Izan’s gaze narrowed. “You think you’re the first alpha who tried to walk in here and say that? Your little mate made a mistake getting mixed up with me, but it’s not too late to give him back.”
Rio’s eyes didn’t leave Izan. “He stays with me.”
Izan shrugged, loose as if he didn’t care. But his right hand hovered near the edge of the countertop.
“You got more backbone than most. If you’d been wolf, we could have done business. No room in my world for cats, though.” Izan’s voice oiled through the air, lazy and slow. “You’re outnumbered.”
“No, I’m not.”
Izan braced both hands on the counter. “You want to fight, we can fight.”
Rio waited. It was like baiting a bear. Patience then power.
Izan’s eyes flicked to the knife block. Then he lunged, grabbing the butcher’s knife, and swung for Rio’s throat.
Rio ducked. The blade whooshed through empty air. He slammed his own fist into Izan’s ribs and heard something crunch. Izan howled and swung again, but the wild edge was gone. Rio grabbed Izan’s arm and twisted, forcing him to drop the knife. Metal clattered across the tile.
Izan fought dirty. Didn’t matter. He jabbed for Rio’s eyes, tried to knee him in the groin, but Rio countered every move. He pinned Izan against the fridge, one hand fisted in the bastard’s collar.
“Don’t pretend you’re an alpha,” Izan spat. He jerked, trying to break the grip.
Rio slammed him even harder against the metal door, denting the fridge. “You hurt my mate.”
Izan laughed, low and guttural. “The impala? He begged for it. So desperate to be wanted, he’d take it from any hand that offered. You think you matter to him? Give it a week. He’ll be gone. They always run.”
Fury spiked through Rio. Izan knew nothing about Kevin. His mate wasn’t leaving. He’d made it clear he wanted a future with Rio. He wasn’t here for macho speeches. He was here to end it.
He released Izan, letting him stagger sideways, and then caught the man’s chin with his elbow. Izan’s head snapped back. Blood spattered the counter, bright red on cheap laminate.
“You don’t get to talk about my mate.”
Izan swung again, but his aim sucked now. There was blood in his eyes. Maybe he couldn’t see straight.
Rio swatted Izan’s fist aside and hammered a punch straight into Izan’s solar plexus. Izan folded, gasping. Rio yanked him upright then drove his knee into Izan’s midsection so hard the man’s feet left the ground.
Izan sagged but didn’t give up. He clawed at Rio’s arms, nails gouging skin, but Rio barely felt it through the adrenaline. He twisted, spun Izan around, slamming him face-first into the edge of the counter. Bone cracked.
Izan went straight for the gun taped under the slab. His hand fumbled for it, but Rio spotted the motion and stomped the man’s wrist flat against the wood. Bones snapped. Izan screamed.
He managed to yank the gun free, but Rio kicked it from his grip before Izan could even bring it level.
The weapon skittered across the tile, out of reach.
Rio wanted to drag this out, but every instinct screamed for a clean finish. He wanted to get back to his mate.
He grabbed Izan by the hair and yanked his head back. “This is for Kevin,” he said.
Rio’s claws slid free, razor-sharp, then plunged then into Izan’s chest, then yanked out his black heart.
Izan collapsed in a heap.
Rio dropped the muscle and wiped the bloody fingers on Izan’s shirt.
He took a second to steady his breathing. Izan had been sure of himself until the end, foolish enough to leave himself unguarded.
Rio cleaned his hands under the kitchen faucet.
Outside, the air felt lighter. Not quite fresh but not as rotten as before. Rain still fell, tapping against the SUV’s roof as he climbed in. His hands ached from the fight, but it felt good. For once, Rio had done more than just protect. He’d finished the threat.
He drove home, the headlights slicing through fog and dark pine.
Each mile closer made him want to see Kevin more, just to prove he’d done what was promised.
House lights glowed gold from the long windows. Rio turned off the engine, sat quiet for a second, and let the storm fade from his head before he moved toward the house.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Warmth greeted him, and the scent of cinnamon rolls still lingered from Kevin’s last kitchen raid. His shoes were in the mudroom.
Kevin sat on the couch under two blankets, the TV playing some rerun of an ancient sitcom. He looked up when Rio entered, and the worry in his eyes was obvious, even if he tried to hide it.
No one said anything at first. Kevin watched Rio, like he needed to be sure he was really there and breathing.
Rio started for the hallway, but Kevin caught the blood. “You okay?” His voice cracked.
“Not mine.” Rio tossed his jacket aside, closing the distance between them. “Izan’s gone. He’s not coming back.”
Kevin blinked slowly, the news sinking in. He gripped the edge of the blanket, knuckles white. “It’s over?”
Rio nodded, sitting next to him. “I will eliminate anyone who threatens you.”
Kevin let out a breath, all the air leaving him at once. He let go of the blanket and leaned against Rio’s shoulder.
Rio felt the tremor in Kevin’s arms, not from fear but sheer exhaustion.
“I kept thinking you’d end up in a ditch,” Kevin said into his shoulder. “Or that he’d show up here with his men.”
“He was alone. Guys like that always end up alone.”
The silence thickened, but not in a bad way. Kevin’s tension leaked away slowly as he began to relax.
Rio reached over and found Kevin’s hand, squeezing until he felt the warmth seep through.
“You’re safe,” Rio said, and for the first time, he believed it. He knew it to his bones.
Kevin closed his eyes, only for a second, but when he opened them, he looked lighter. Like something had let go inside of him.
“Does this mean I can have another one of those steak sandwiches?” Kevin asked. He sounded almost normal. The flicker of humor in his voice melted something inside Rio.
“I’ve created a steak monster.”
Kevin smiled. Real this time. He leaned in, warm and alive, head tucked just at Rio’s jawline.
“It’s really over?” He said it so softly Rio almost didn’t catch it.
“No one’s coming for you. Not now. Not ever.”
Kevin sat there a minute longer then made a noise like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. He didn’t let go of Rio’s hand.
He listened to Kevin’s breathing slow down. Outside, the rain went quiet. There were no more threats in the dark.
Pressing his lips to Kevin’s hair, Rio breathed in the scent of mate and safety and their ugly-beautiful brand of domestic chaos.
This was what he’d fought for. This was what it meant to bring someone home and keep him.
Kevin’s head tipped up, his eyes shining even under the room’s dim light. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” Rio said. “Always.”
Kevin smiled, like he’d just won the lottery.
Later, in the dark, Rio watched Kevin sleep and watched the tension bleed out of him. Rio had never been more grateful that an impala had crashed into his life.
THE END