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Chapter twenty-nine

Ryann

I jump up from the bed, only just managing to hold in a scream. Wren is already off the bed and racing for the bedroom door. He grabs it and turns it, but to our shock, the door remains stuck. Locked. My eyes widen in the dark. Wren spits a vicious threat and throws himself at the door. Kit and Callan slam into me, holding me tight.

In the back of my mind, I think of my parents locked in the house while the fire engulfed them. What’s on the other side of the door? Is there a fire raging? I inhale, testing the air for smoke.

“It’s okay, we’re here. We have you,” Kit whispers. “He’s not going to get you.”

I tremble but can’t take my eyes off the wood that’s keeping us locked in here.

Deeper in the house, a door opens and closes, louder, louder, louder. Harder and harder again.

Each time it slams, I almost scream.

Raider runs to the door and grabs it, yanking hard, but it resists being opened.

“Fuck! Get out of the way, Wren,” he snaps and backs up.

Wren steps back, but I can feel the tension in the room shoot up. Raider snarls and puts his shoulder to the door, slamming repeatedly. The sound in the house abruptly stops.

Raider pauses, listening hard and steps back as footsteps run towards the bedroom. They stop on the other side. Raider glances back at Wren, and the pair of them reach for their hockey sticks.

BANG.

BANG .

BANG.

He’s on the other side of the door. Literally, a piece of wood separates us. But who is he? What does he want? Why won’t he go away?

Wren and Raider are intensely focused, both hefting their hockey sticks and ready to attack, but Kit slides his hand down my arm and wraps his fingers around my wrist.

Just when I think I’m about to shout from the toxic mix of frustration and fear, the person on the other side starts banging on the door. Repeated thumping sounds, faster and faster and faster, until I can’t hear anything but that.

I scream before I can stop myself. It’s too much. It’s far too much. Callan pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me super tight.

“Fuck this!” Wren says and charges the door.

We hear a manic laugh, and then footsteps running away, but the door has splintered under Wren’s weight. Raider throws himself at it, the two savagely breaking the door down to a broken ruin and fight their way through. The hole isn’t big enough, but they keep throwing themselves at it, refusing to give up.

From downstairs comes the sound of a door slamming hard. Callan is one step ahead of me, rushing to the window. I look past him and see the man rushing into the woods.

“He won’t be on camera. We have no proof,” I mutter in between desperate gasping sobs.

Callan hums and turns back just as Wren and Raider break into the hallway.

The two of them take off, but it’s no good. He’s already gone. I sit on the edge of the bed and look down at my hands.

Callan puts an arm around me and drags me against his chest.

“I’ve had enough, Callan. I can’t take this anymore.” My eyes fill with tears that spill over. “I’ve spent years running, training, and trying to shake this asshole off my tail. This,” I throw my hand to the door. “This was a new level. He’s escalating.”

“Ryann,” Callan murmurs and kisses my temple. “We’re going to catch him. We’ll be fine.”

I scowl. I don’t want to say that I’m starting to worry that we won’t, but he’s beaten the technology, the intelligence of everyone I know. He’s invisible.

The guys come back, but we’re all too riled to sleep, and I wonder if that’s part of his plan. We’re all sleep-deprived now. All a little bit slower, less ‘on’ than we usually are.

I look at Kit and remember how he came home a few nights ago. His eyes wild, his hair in a disarray, panting, panicked.

I’d heard the whispered conversation he had with Raider.

Someone tried to run him off the road, to kill him. It hadn’t just been a quick thing, the driver had terrorized him for more than an hour .

Is that what this guy is working up to? Will he kill to have me?

Am I prepared to kill to stay free?

A few months ago, the answer would have been resoundingly no, but tonight. Well, tonight, my answer is different.

If push came to shove, I could kill a person, and I would have to defend myself. I have something to lose. Just thinking about the fact I almost lost Kit leaves me with a killing rage.

And tonight, the invasion, the desecration of our safe spaces. It’s enough to drive a girl mad.

Over the years, I’ve asked why. Why me? I’m not an alpha, rare and intimidating. I’m not an omega, sweet and appealing. If I was, it would make more sense. I’m just a beta. I don’t know what at fifteen could have appealed to him so much to devote this much time to me.

It’s not romantic.

It’s terrifying.

It’s not love.

It’s torture.

Real is a hand I can hold, its gentle words and silent support. He isn’t real. He’s a ghost, a demonic entity.

“Let's make a trap,” I suggest to Callan.

“What?”

“Let’s trap him. We can use the house as a trap and get him to come in here, and when he does, block all the exits. Let’s catch this son of a bitch tonight.”

Kit shifts to stand in a swath of moonlight. It illuminates his face. “Yes!”

“We can figure it out today, but let’s do something. Let’s go on the offensive.”

Callan chews his lip and nods his head. “All right, we should talk to the others first. Let’s go downstairs. I’ll make breakfast, and we can think this through.”

They try to talk me and Kit out of it. For hours, we sit in the lounge, ordering food, talking it out. When someone gets too heated, they storm out of the room, and then we all end up right back here, staring at each other while I tell them everything that’s happened and how he’s hunted me.

We take a break for Wren and Raider to go to practice.

It’s like we all perfectly just know what we need. Kit and I curl up on Callan with the TV on and just lay there.

He strokes our backs and stares up at the ceiling. I bet he has lots of deep thoughts. I’m too scared to ask him what they might be.

“Wren’s been getting a lot of phone calls from someone,” Kit murmurs .

I stiffen and turn my head so I can look at Kit. “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t asked him what they are, but he seems upset whenever he gets them.”

“Does he answer them?” I ask.

“No.”

Wren doesn’t have bonds yet. He might still leave, and if it’s his ex like I think it is, maybe he’s tempted to go back and get a slice of normalcy. I wouldn't blame him.

I bite the inside of my cheek and stare at the wall while I think, but then I shake my head, brush the thoughts aside, and remember. We’re in this together. I’m not giving up on him.

He’s my alpha.

I consider that until they get home, exhausted and drop on the couch. Raider puts his head back and closes his eyes.

“I’ve thought about it, and I ran it by Raider at practice,” Wren says. “We should pretend to go to sleep and hide downstairs, in different areas. One of us is bound to catch him. Use the alpha bark, hit him, whatever.”

“That’s elegantly simple,” Callan remarks. “We could set up security, and I can have the laptop ready to turn on all lights at the flick of a button.”

“Ooh, I like that.”

The guys get animated, throwing ideas, and pretty soon, we have a plan my stalker will never see coming.

I lean into Wren’s shoulder, trying not to react when he checks his phone and then tosses it on the coffee table.

He picks up his beer and drinks deeply before setting it down. Kit is peeling the label off and shredding it. Callan is staring into space, and Raider is furiously texting someone.

We’re nervous. They’re scared.

We should be. I don’t think this is going to work, but I have to try.