Chapter 49
Luna
The loading bay is dark, the only light coming from the moonlight and my laptop as it throws a blue rectangle across my lap.
The wind cuts across the open concrete, and I bring my knuckles to my mouth, blowing a hot breath into my hands to chase away the bite.
Bram’s truck tore out of the driveway twenty minutes ago with Ash and Reed’s with him. But deep in my chest, the bond vibrates, and I don’t feel alone. This is my plan anyway, so I’m doing this.
Gravel crunches and my spine goes rigid, my breath catching in my throat as slow steps approach.
“Hi, sweetheart,” a voice says.
Derek steps into the moonlight, wearing a dark jacket, his hair perfectly neat. He looks at me sitting on the crates, and a slow smile spreads across his face.
“Derek,” I croak, unable to hide the tremor in my hands.
“Working late?” He stops five feet away, just out of arm’s reach. “Seems dangerous. Specially since your boyfriends peeled out of here, leaving you all unguarded.”
I swallow hard. “How did you—”
“Why I hid and waited, Luna,” he says, spreading his hands. “These alphas are predictable. Wave a threat in front of them, and they go running.”
My chest goes tight as the panic tries to take over, the old instinct to freeze, to drop my eyes and make myself small.
Down, I tell the panic. Cool head.
“What do you want?” I ask, lifting my chin.
He lets out a short, ugly laugh. “What do I want? You humiliated me, Luna. So you’re going to make it right by coming with me and never, ever leaving again.”
He pauses, his eyes dropping to the blue light spilling across my lap. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Cameras,” I say, looking at the screen. “I’m checking the side fence cameras that are wired here.”
“Nerdy.” He takes a step closer. “And a bit late. Now, you’re coming with me.”
“I’m not,” I say, meeting his gaze.
“You are.” His smile drops. “It’s not like you have a choice now that it’s just you and me. Nobody knows I’m here, and nobody is coming to help you.”
I look up at him, letting the fear drop out of my face completely. “You’re gonna have to catch me first, fucker.”
I drop the laptop on the crates and bolt, my body moving before my brain can catch up. I scramble off the concrete and hit the gravel, running full out toward the dark line of outbuildings.
Run, hide.
The old instinct flares up hot and desperate, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Luna!”
His bark hits my spine but ultimately doesn’t work.
I cut hard around the old supply shed and throw myself at the door. My hands slam against the wood, I grab the handle, heave myself inside, and throw my weight against the door.
The deadbolt clicks just as a massive force hits the other side, making the door shudder in its frame.
He hits it again. A splintering groan rips through the shed. The hinges scream.
I back up, breathing hard in the dark, the smell of old dust and engine oil thickening the air.
Cool head, I tell myself, my hands balling into fists. Wait for it.
The third hit blows the door wide open and moonlight spills across the dirt floor, framing Derek in the doorway. He’s breathing heavily, his chest heaving under his jacket.
“Stupid,” he snarls, stepping inside, lunging and clamping his hands around my wrist.
“Gotcha,” he says, yanking me forward.
But I use the momentum to step into him and drive my knee straight up, burying it right between his legs. Derek lets out a strangled wheeze and folds in half, his grip on my wrist slackening. I use this moment to rip my arm free and crack my open palm across his face.
The slap echoes off the tin roof, and Derek stumbles backward into the shelving unit, clutching his nose, tools rattling against the metal.
I step sideways, circling him, pivoting until I’m the one standing squarely in the open doorway, my back to the night, his back to the dead end.
He groans, wiping a smear of blood off his upper lip. His chest heaves, but a twisted, ugly grin starts to pull at the corners of his mouth. “I like it when you fight,” he rasps, stepping away from the shelves. “It’ll only make breaking you more fun.”
I stay planted in the doorway.
“Well?” he says, spreading his hands. “What are you waiting for? Run again. That’s my kind of kink.”
I tilt my head. A slow, cold wave of calm washes over me as the bond hums louder now, closer.
“Oh,” I say, my voice steady. “I’m not running.”
Behind me, shadows tear open. Three massive shapes step out from the dark, stopping right at my shoulder, blocking the entire doorway.
Derek freezes.
Ash is on my left. Reed is on my right. Bram is standing dead center.
I take a slow, deliberate step back, letting the three of them form a solid, impassable wall between me and Derek, and the sheer volume of their combined dominance hits the air, flooding the cramped shed.
Cedar. Woodsmoke. Leather. Heavy, dark and furious.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Derek breathes.
He spins on his heel, searching the back wall, and his eyes lock onto the small, window on the left. He lunges through it and hits the ground rolling on the other side.
But I had a feeling he’d take the coward’s way out. So when he scrambles to his feet to run away again, I’m ready—I stick my foot straight out in his path (a page right out of Maren’s playbook).
Derek’s shin hits my leg at full speed and he goes airborne, flying forward and hitting the gravel face-first with a spectacular, crunching thud. He slides to a halt in the dirt. He doesn’t get back up.
I stand over him, nudging his shoulder with my foot.
“Found your weakness,” I say out loud, smiling. “Trips.”
Reed lets out a bark of a laugh, hauling Derek up by the back of his jacket a second later.
Then Bram steps in and backhands him with a brutal, cracking slap that shuts Derek’s eyes and makes him go limp for a second.
Then, Bram drops him face-down into the gravel, pinning him to the ground with a knee between his shoulder blades, and sharply clicks a heavy pair of handcuffs tight around his wrists.
“Derek Dickface,” Bram says, his voice a pure, resonant rumble. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney.”
“And,” Reed adds, stepping into Derek’s field of vision with a massive grin on his face. “You have the right to... suck my dick.”
Ash drops his head into his hands. “Jesus, Reed.”
“I’ve been waiting to say that since a certain movie came out,” Reed says. “It’s been years, Ash. Don’t ruin it.”
Derek groans, sagging against Bram’s grip. “You can’t do this.”
“The hell we can’t,” Bram says, patting his jacket pocket. “We have a gas can with your prints on it, a camera feed from the side fence, and a signed confession from Wade Fenton, along with records proving you paid him to commit crimes.”
Reed squats down so he’s eye level with Derek’s bleeding face. “And since we’re not going to jail for hitting you, asshat, I’m at least doing this.”
Dropping into a deep squat, Reed hovers inches above Derek’s face, and bounces once. Twice. Three times.
“Did you just—” Derek splutters.
“Yep,” Reed says, standing back up. “You just got teabagged in front of witnesses.”
The wail of sirens cuts sharply through the quiet. Red and blue lights begin sweeping over the tops of the trees, flashing closer. At the sound, all the remaining color drains out of Derek’s face, leaving him a sickly, panicked gray.
“Fuck,” Derek says, staring at the approaching lights, then at Bram. “But how did you even—I paid that drunk Ray Potts to lure you away.”
“Ray Potts crosses the street to avoid Bram,” I say, walking up to him. “When the tip came in, we figured it was a lure to pull the alphas away.”
“So you...” Derek glares at me.
“Faked the departure,” Ash says, stepping up right behind my shoulder and settling a warm, solid hand on my lower back. “Drove the trucks a mile down the road, cut the lights, and looped back through the orchard.”
“And I offered to be the bait,” I say, tilting my head.
“You really thought you were so brilliant, catching me out here unprotected. But I chose to be here alone. I knew you were watching, and my pack was out of sight but close the entire time. You did jump the gun a little and show up earlier than we expected, though. I was supposed to already be locked inside the shed when you got here, so I had to... improvise a little.”
Bram looks over his shoulder at me, the hard, alpha edge in his eyes softening. “And you were incredibly brave, sweetheart,” he says, his voice a low, steady rumble.
“And impressive as hell,” Reed adds, shooting me a grin. “You got him good.”
Derek’s mouth opens. Closes.
The squad car pull into the loading yard, tires crunching over the gravel. Doors slam, uniforms step out.
Bram grips Derek by the back of his collar and marches him over to the cruiser. Then, he shoves Derek down into the back, Derek’s head hitting the door frame on the way in.
Derek lets out a pained groan, sagging onto the seat.
“Whoops. My bad,” Bram says, deadpan.
One of the deputies hides a smirk and firmly slams the cruiser door shut, while Bram casually strolls back over to us.
“We picked up Potts on the way in by the way,” he tells Bram. “Flipped him in about three seconds. Said that dude paid him two hundred bucks to make the call.”
“Thanks guys, great work,” Bram says.
The cruiser’s engine revs as they pull out, and the yard goes quiet again.
With Derek gone, the adrenaline drains out of my system in a sudden rush.
My knees wobble, threatening to give out, but Ash is instantly there.
His strong arm wraps firmly around my waist, pulling me flush against his side.
Reed steps up close on my other side, dropping his hand onto my shoulder.
Bram leans down and presses a tender kiss to my forehead.
“So,” Reed clears his throat, looking between us. “Wanna get a drink?”