Chapter 9
Emmett
The cold air between us is suffocating.
Raine sits up, dragging one of the throw pillows over her bare skin like it can somehow shield her from what just happened. From me. Her breath is uneven, her body still trembling from the storm we just unleashed on each other, but she won’t meet my eyes.
I lean back, watching her, waiting. My own pulse is still settling, but there’s no regret in my chest. No second thoughts. No shame. Only the undeniable truth that what just happened was inevitable.
But for her? It’s something else entirely.
She pushes a hand through her dark hair, gripping the strands for a fraction of a second before exhaling sharply. "This was a mistake."
I knew she’d say it. Knew she’d try to shove this back into whatever locked box she keeps her feelings in. But that doesn’t stop the heat that flares low in my gut, the irritation curling inside me.
"You don’t believe that," I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
She lets out a bitter laugh, finally glancing at me with sharp, unreadable eyes. "It doesn’t matter what I believe, Emmett."
She moves to stand, and I catch her wrist before she can escape. Her skin is warm, still humming with the aftermath of what we just did, and I swear I feel the slightest tremor run through her.
"It matters to me," I tell her.
She swallows hard. "That’s the problem."
Something in her voice—something quiet and almost broken—wraps around my ribs and squeezes. I don’t like it. I don’t like that she thinks she has to run from this. From me.
"Talk to me, Raine."
She shakes her head, pulling her wrist free, standing and grabbing her clothes from the floor. "I can’t."
She’s shutting down. Closing herself off. I should let her. Should let her put up whatever walls she thinks she needs.
But I’m not that kind of man.
I slide out of bed, reaching for my jeans as she starts pulling on her shirt. "You think this changes something?"
She freezes for half a second, then yanks the fabric over her head. "It changes everything."
"Why?"
Her lips press together, her fingers curling into fists. "Because you’re not supposed to matter."
The words punch through my chest like a goddamn bullet.
Before I can stop myself, I close the space between us, my hand bracing against the wall beside her head. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, just tilts her chin up, her breathing sharp and fast.
"And yet, I do," I murmur.
Her throat bobs as she swallows. "That’s exactly why this is a mistake."
I should step back. Should let her go. Should let her pretend this never happened.
But I don’t.
Instead, I tip my head closer, lowering my voice. "Tell me you don’t want this again. Tell me to walk away, and I will."
She sucks in a breath, and for a moment, I think she might say it. Might give me the words I need to hear to force myself to leave this alone.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, she shoves past me, grabbing her bag, and disappears out the door.
I don’t chase her. Not yet.
But I will.
Because this isn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly, trying to push down the fire burning under my skin.
I should let her go—let her walk out of this cabin, out of my life.
But I already know I won’t. Because Raine isn’t just another woman tangled in my world.
She’s something else. Something I can’t name yet. And that makes her dangerous.
Dante knows that. Knows exactly how to exploit it. He’s going to use her to get to me—I can feel it in my bones. That’s what he does. Finds weaknesses and tears them apart piece by piece. I can’t let that happen.
I reach for my phone and dial Theo. He picks up after one ring, like he was expecting me.
"She ran?" he asks.
I grind my teeth. "For now."
Theo sighs on the other end. "You should let her go. She’s already deep in this mess. Dragging her back isn’t going to fix anything."
"I’m not trying to fix anything. I’m trying to keep her alive."
A beat of silence. Then, "You need help?"
I hesitate, then nod even though he can’t see me. "Yeah. And not just from you."
Theo is quiet for a long moment before he understands what I mean. "You’re calling Ryan."
I don’t answer right away. My grip tightens around the phone. It’s been years since I spoke to my brother. Since we stood on opposite sides of the law and walked away from each other like we weren’t even family.
But Dante isn’t just another enemy. He’s a ghost with too many lives in his pocket. And if I want to end this before it gets worse, I need every weapon I can get.
Even if that means facing my past.
"Yeah," I murmur. "I’m calling Ryan."
The words taste like rust on my tongue, a bitter reminder of the last time I saw my brother. It wasn’t a friendly goodbye. It wasn’t anything close to that. It was fists, anger, and a lifetime of resentment boiling over in a way that left no room for reconciliation.
Ryan was always the good one. The golden child. The one who followed the rules, who did everything right. I was the opposite—the one who found comfort in the dark, who made a home in the kind of violence Ryan swore to fight against.
When we were kids, he tried to keep me in line, tried to play the role of protector.
But after our parents died, everything changed.
I let go of the idea that anything could be saved, and Ryan...
he let go of me. He chose the badge, chose justice, while I chose survival. We didn’t see eye to eye after that.
The last time we spoke, I told him to stay out of my way.
He told me I was already too far gone.
That was nearly a decade ago.
Now, I’m about to ask him for a favor.
A favor that’ll drag him right into my world, the world he swore he’d never step into.
I don’t know how this is going to go. Maybe he’ll hang up on me. Maybe he’ll tell me to go to hell.
But if there’s one thing I know about Ryan Calloway, it’s that he doesn’t ignore a fight when it lands on his doorstep.
And Dante Moreau is one hell of a fight.
I press the call button before I can think better of it. The line rings once. Twice. A third time.
Then—
"...Emmett?" His voice is sharper than I remember, all steel and suspicion. The sound of it drags up memories I’d rather leave buried.
"Ryan."
A pause. "It’s been a long time."
"Yeah."
Another beat of silence, the kind that says neither of us knows how to bridge the gap between the past and now. But I don’t have time to waste on old wounds. "I need to meet."
Ryan exhales, something like a bitter laugh undercutting his voice. "Let me guess. Not a social call."
"No."
"Then why the hell should I help you?"
I expected that. Knew he wouldn’t just say yes. Ryan’s always needed a reason to get his hands dirty, and I’ve never been a good enough reason on my own.
"Because if you don’t, people are going to die. And one of them might be me."
Silence stretches long enough that I think he might just hang up. Then—
"Where?"
I give him a location. Neutral ground. A place where neither of us has the upper hand.
"One hour," he says before the line goes dead.
I let out a slow breath, pocketing the phone, and grab my jacket. I don’t hesitate. If I let myself think too long about this, I might convince myself to walk away. And I can’t afford to do that.
The meeting spot is an old diner on the outskirts of town, one of the few places that hasn’t changed in the last ten years. The kind of place where truckers pass through at all hours, where no one asks questions if two men sit in a booth without ordering a damn thing.
When I step inside, the bell above the door jingles, too bright, too fucking normal for what’s about to happen.
Ryan is already there. Sitting in the back corner, his posture stiff, his hands wrapped around a coffee cup like it’s the only thing keeping him from walking out. His badge isn’t visible, but I know it’s on him. Just like I know he’s armed. Old habits die hard.
I walk over, sliding into the booth across from him. He doesn’t say anything at first, just studies me, his eyes sharp and assessing. He looks older. More tired. The lines around his mouth are deeper, the weight of whatever life he’s been living pressing hard on him.
"You look like shit," he says finally.
I smirk, leaning back. "You always did have a way with words."
He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "Cut the bullshit, Emmett. Why are we here?"
I fold my arms across my chest. "Dante Moreau."
Ryan’s face barely changes, but I don’t miss the way his fingers tighten around his cup. "What about him?"
"I need to take him down."
Ryan laughs, but it’s not amused. It’s sharp, edged with disbelief. "And you think I’m going to help you?"
"I think you want him gone just as much as I do."
His jaw clenches, and for a moment, I wonder if I miscalculated. If this version of Ryan is too far removed from the brother I used to know. Then—
"He’s untouchable, Emmett. You don’t just decide to take down a man like Moreau. You either get buried trying, or you disappear."
I hold his stare. "I’m not asking you to stick your neck out for me. I’m asking you to do what you swore to do when you put on that badge. Moreau’s got the whole city in his pocket. You know it. I know it. I’ve got connections you don’t. We can use that."
Ryan exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus. You haven’t changed. Still think you can play hero in a world full of villains."
I smirk, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. "I’m not a hero, Ryan. Never have been. But I’ll be damned if I let Moreau win."
He studies me for a long moment, then mutters, "You’re going to get yourself killed."
"Maybe. But at least I’ll go down swinging."
Ryan shakes his head, but something shifts in his expression. Something reluctant. "If we do this, we do it my way. No bodies unless absolutely necessary. No unnecessary risks."
I grin. "No promises."
He groans, but he doesn’t walk away.
And that’s as close to a yes as I’m going to get.
***
Back at the cabin, I make another call. This one is different.
"Ramos," Vince answers on the second ring, voice slick with amusement. "Well, well. If it isn’t Calloway. Thought you were dead."
"Not yet."
"Give it time." A low chuckle. "Tell me, what kind of trouble do you need my particular skill set for? Because if it’s anything less than life or death, I’m gonna be disappointed."
"It’s always life or death with me, Vince."
"That’s what I like about you," he muses. "So, what is it? A job? A target? Something... messier?"
"A girl."
Silence. Then— "Oh, shit. You’re calling me over a girl? This must be good."
I rub a hand over my face. "Not like that. She’s leverage. A problem I need handled."
I lie. I lie because I know how Vince thinks, and the last thing I need is for him to know the truth. That Raine isn’t a job. She isn’t a loose end. She’s something else entirely.
Vince exhales a mock-disappointed sigh. "And here I thought you were finally settling down. Send me the details. I’ll see what I can do."
"I’ll be in touch."
I hang up before he can ask more questions.
Just in time to hear the soft creak of floorboards behind me.
When I turn, Raine is standing there, her expression unreadable.
And I know—she heard everything.