Page 148 of Found by the Pack

I wipe my hands on a dish towel, half laughing at myself for jumping. I walk quickly, rehearsing in my head how I’ll tease him for forgetting his keys.

I pull the door open.

And my stomach plummets into my feet.

It’s not Shepard. It’s Scott.

And behind him—his pack, their broad shoulders filling the porch, their eyes glittering in the dim light.

Scott leans against the frame like he belongs here, like no time has passed. His smile is all teeth. “Hey, sweetheart,” he drawls. “Miss us?”

The world tilts. My hand is still on the doorknob, but it’s useless, my grip slack. My mouth opens but no sound comes out. The coffee burbles behind me, forgotten.

His eyes rake over me, over the sweater that doesn’t belong to me, the faint marks Boone’s mouth left on my neck. His grin sharpens.

I want to slam the door. I want to scream. I want to run.

But I can’t do any of it. Not when his pack looms like a wall, not when the past I ran from is standing on the porch smiling like it never ended.

My heartbeat thrashes so loud it drowns out the fire trucks in the distance. And I know—my hell has found me again.

The air freezes in my lungs.

Scott doesn’t wait for an invitation. He pushes past me into my living room, his scent crawling over everything like rot.

The others follow—Levi with his broad shoulders and cruel smirk, Trevor and Dalton moving in unison, Jeremiah bringing up the rear with a paper cup in hand.

I slam the door shut behind them, more instinct than logic. My back is pressed to it, my fingers trembling against the knob. “Get out.”

Scott chuckles, deep and low, that same ugly sound that used to make my stomach curl. He turns, his eyes dragging over me.

“You thought a restraining order would keep me away, sweetheart? You forgot they actually have to serve me the papers. You haven’t always been that smart, have you? Thank God you make up for it.”

My jaw locks. “I’m not your sweetheart.”

“Not anymore, you mean.” His gaze flicks to my throat, to the marks that haven’t faded, and his smile twists. “We’ve been in town a while now. Watching. You really thought we wouldn’t find you?”

My stomach drops. “You’ve been here?—”

“A month,” Jeremiah interrupts, his voice smooth as he wanders into the kitchen like he belongs there. He lifts Shepard’s mug, sniffs it, then takes a long sip. “Weak tea.” He spits it back in, smirking when I flinch.

Levi laughs, cracking his knuckles. “Hell of a show, Sadie. Parading around, painting walls, slutting yourself out to a pack that doesn’t even know how to keep you.”

My blood spikes hot. “You don’t get to say that.”

Trevor’s eyes glint as he circles closer, Dalton shadowing him. “Your next heat’s in what, two weeks? Three? We figured we’d save you the trouble of embarrassing yourself again. We’ll take you home.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” My voice is sharp, cutting through my fear. “I built a life here. This is my home now.”

Scott tilts his head, his expression amused. “Sweetheart, this isn’t a request. You’re our property. You always have been.”

Something inside me breaks. “I’m not your property.”

The laugh that rumbles out of him is crueler than anything I’ve ever heard. He closes the space between us in two strides.

His hand comes up, and for a heartbeat I think he’ll strike me. Instead, he trails his fingers down my back until they rest on the curve of my hip.

I jerk away, but Trevor and Dalton are faster. They grab me, one clamping onto my arms, the other forcing me down. My knees slam against the hardwood, pain sparking white-hot.