Page 26 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I snap, spinning away and making a beeline for the walk-in closet.

He trails behind me, footsteps slow and deliberate, and it takes all my willpower not to glance back over my shoulder. Entering the walk-in closet, I grab a pair of black yoga pants, a sports bra, and a fitted tank, yanking the door shut for privacy so I can change.

While I wrestle into my clothes, I fire off the next round of interrogation since he clearly isn’t leaving.

“Where were you, anyways? I figured you were out on a job or… whatever it is you do all day.”

“Still waiting for today’s orders to come in,” Ares replies, voice muffled through the door. “Woke up early, so figured I’d grab you some breakfast before you took off.”

I yank open the closet door, eyeing him suspiciously as I step out, fully clothed. “Breakfast?” I ask, gaze dropping pointedly to his empty hands.

He holds up a finger, grinning, then turns and strides from the room, returning a few seconds later with a coffee cup and white paper bag in hand. He wiggles them in my direction, like he’s luring a small animal into a trap.

“For me?” I ask, brows raised.

Ares steps closer, passing them over with a smirk. “From that place you like around the corner. The one with the criminally expensive pastries.”

“Liar,” I mutter, already peeling the lid from the top of the coffee cup. I inhale the aroma of the latte, nearly moaning out loud, then peek into the paper bag, finding a chocolate croissant.

I’m speechless– mostly because my mouth is full of pastry within seconds. The first bite is so good I have to close my eyes for a moment, just savoring it.

“Holy shit,” I murmur, mouth still half-full. “You actually did it. You bought my love.”

A deep laugh rumbles from his chest. “If only it were that easy.”

I wash my bite of croissant down with a sip of the latte, doing my best to regain my composure as I angle a suspicious glare at him over the rim. “So, what’s the real reason you’re being nice? Are you buttering me up for something?”

He gives a lazy shrug, but there’s a softness in his eyes that makes my stomach do a weird little slip. “Just figured you could use a good morning.”

“Uh huh,” I mumble as I take another bite of the croissant, not buying it for a second. But it’s also hard to stay annoyed when he’s being so damn considerate. “I’ve got plans this morning,” I say, wiping crumbs from my hands. “Yoga class with Jordan.”

“Can I come?” Ares asks, and for a split second I can’t tell if he’s joking or dead serious.

I snort. “Not a chance.”

He grins and leans in closer, not at all discouraged. “Well before you go, you should probably rub up on me.”

He’s not wrong, but the smug look on his face makes me want to throttle him.

“Fine,” I huff, dropping the pastry back into the bag and setting it on my dresser with the latte. “Let’s get this over with. ”

Ares spreads his arms wide, beckoning me with a lift of his chin, and I step in.

Though it’s become a familiar routine, it’s no less destabilizing when it begins.

I press my body against his, chest to chest, tipping my head up so my cheek grazes his jawline.

His hands settle low on my hips, fingers curling into the waistband of my yoga pants.

He nuzzles into my neck, the rough stubble of his jaw rasping against my skin, and I swear to god I feel my knees threaten to give out.

We stay pressed together for a few seconds, bodies humming with tension and heat, and it takes all of my self-control not to melt into him completely. His scent is everywhere– warm, spicy, and a little wild. It seeps into my clothes, my skin, my damn soul.

Like always, it gets to be too much, too fast. I jerk back breathlessly, moving out of his orbit.

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he replies cheerfully.

I grab my coffee and croissant, cut him one last glare for good measure, then head for the door.

“You know, this whole fake mate thing is a lot of work,” I toss over my shoulder.

He laughs, low and sultry. “Tell me about it.”

I don’t respond. I just keep moving, the heat of his body and the taste of chocolate lingering with me as I flee our apartment.

The yoga studio is uncomfortably hot today, the summer heat outside lending a few extra degrees to the already sweltering temperature. I’m more of a meditative, vinyasa flow type of girl, but Jordan swears by hot yoga– especially these sculpt sessions that incorporate free weights.

It’s anything but relaxing. Every time I set my palms on the mat, I feel like I’m about to slip and faceplant.

A wiry woman named Dahlia paces at the front of the room with the serene authority of a cult leader, instructing us to flow through warrior two and into an extended side angle.

My legs are already quivering.

Jordan, meanwhile, is completely in her element, long limbs stretched wide and hair yanked back in a tight bun that shows off the sharp angle of her jaw.

She’s a full three levels above me in both balance and stamina, which means she can hold a conversation without getting winded, while I’m struggling not to faint.

“Is it just me, or does she sound more like a dominatrix than a yoga instructor?” Jordan whispers, barely bothering to lower her voice.

“Definitely not just you,” I snort, attempting to twist my torso toward the ceiling and hold the pose. My side gives a warning twinge, muscles stretching uncomfortably. “Either that, or a sadist. These poses are killer.”

Jordan flashes me a grin. “That’s the point, sis. Full body annihilation.”

I roll my eyes, but a reluctant smile tugs at my lips. As much as I love to complain, I’m grateful for the normalcy of this. Sweaty, exhausting, normalcy .

“So, how’s Ares?” she asks, casual as can be, like we’re discussing the weather and not the most destabilizing part of my life.

I freeze mid-transition, caught off guard. “Uh, he’s fine. Good.” I force myself to move into the next pose, which involves folding forward and reaching behind my back, head now facing Jordan’s mat. “Why?”

She shrugs, moving into the pose with ease. “He just seems intense. A little obsessive. But maybe that’s your thing.”

“It’s not my thing,” I mutter, which only makes her smirk harder.

“Mhmm,” she hums, not buying it for a second. “Is he treating you right, at least? I mean, you don’t have to get into specifics, but you seem… different, lately.”

I shake my head, trying to focus on the stretch rather than the prickle crawling up my spine. “Different how?”

Jordan looks over at me, eyes narrowed. “You’re twitchier than usual, like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or like you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” I lie, face heating. Good thing it’s already red from the temperature in here, or it’d be a dead giveaway.

Jordan holds her pose, unblinking. “You’re totally hiding something. ”

“Shut up,” I mutter, the urge to spill everything to her only growing stronger.

She’s my best friend. The only person I trust completely. And I hate lying to her.

“Alright, everyone,” Dahlia calls from the front of the room. “Let’s bring it into child’s pose, then roll up to a seat.”

The class moves as one, bodies shifting to the floor, foreheads pressed to the mat in a pose that’s supposed to be restful but mostly just feels like a humid face-plant. I let out a sigh that’s half exhaustion, half dread, mind still racing.

As soon as the class ends, Jordan pivots to face me, lips drawn in a frown. “Seriously, though. If you need to talk about him, or anything, you know I’m not going to rat you out.”

The sincerity in her voice makes my chest ache.

I nod in assent, busying myself by rolling up my mat, heart thumping hard as everyone starts filing out of the room.

Jordan sits on her own mat with her arms wrapped loosely around her knees, waiting for the room to clear.

The moment the door closes behind the last person, she cocks a brow at me.

“You wanna tell me or not?”

I stare down at the ridged surface of my rolled-up mat, wondering how much to give her. Lying to the rest of the world is easy, but with Jordan…

“It’s all bullshit,” I blurt. “The whole fated mate thing.”

Her eyes widen, then narrow. “What do you mean?”

I exhale slowly, then the confession slips out in a rush.

“Ares just said that to save my ass. The only thing fated about us is that we’re both really good at lying.

I chickened out the night of the pairing, and Ares happened upon me right before Alpha got there.

He made the whole thing up as a cover for why I didn’t show. ”

Jordan stares back at me, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. For a second, she’s completely speechless. Then she gives a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Are you shitting me? You faked a fated mate bond?”

I nod, feeling the weight of the secret lift slightly.

She lets out a low whistle, then leans in closer with a conspiratorial smirk. “Is anyone else in on it?”

“The truth, no,” I grumble, shaking my head. “Just me and Ares, and now you. I knew it was a terrible idea right when it came out of his mouth, but it was either go along with it or go forward with the pairing…”

Jordan’s eyes darken at the mention of the alternative. “Fuck that,” she spits. “Ares may not be Prince Charming, but at least he’s not Elias Burke. There’s something seriously off about that guy.”

“Yeah,” I breathe, scrubbing a hand over my face. “We’ve got a plan, though. For me to get out. Ares can’t leave, but he said he’d help me get a new identity, relocate somewhere safe.”

My sister’s brows shoot up, dark eyes glimmering with hope and mischief. “Are you serious? You’re going to run?”

“Yeah.” I try to keep my voice steady, but the admission has me buzzing with a heady mix of fear and anticipation. “I mean, that’s the plan. Keep playing happy mates until we can pull it off.”

A beat of silence passes. Then Jordan grins, slow and devious. “Can I come with you?”

For a second, I wonder if she’s joking, but the look on her face is pure, earnest hunger– for escape, for freedom, for a chance to finally choose her own path.

I open my mouth, a surprised laugh tumbling out. “You’d really want to leave it all behind?”

“Fuck yeah I would,” Jordan huffs, not even needing to consider. “There’s nothing for me here. If you’re going, I want in . Sibling solidarity, right?”

“Right,” I say, a genuine smile curving my lips. “I’ll talk to Ares. But honestly, this is… I’d rather do this with you than all alone.”

The two of us roll up our mats side by side, both giddy with the prospect of new possibilities. For the first time in forever, the future doesn’t look like a prison sentence. It looks like an open road, the city shrinking behind us as we drive away.

“Where would we even go?” Jordan asks, slinging her mat under her arm as we head for the door.

“Colorado,” I answer. “Ares said his pack would take us in, his brother’s Alpha. He promised good people, decent coffee, and no arranged matings. Beyond that, I’m not sure what it’ll be like.”

“You know what, I don’t even care,” Jordan laughs. “I’m still in.”

I loop my arm through hers, the two of us giggling like we’re fifteen again and plotting to sneak out of the Tower. Except this time, it’s for real. This time, there’s no one to stop us but ourselves .

As we step out of the yoga studio into the sunlight, squinting against the glare, I feel lighter than I have in a long time. There’s still more to work out, and the odds are against us, but for once, the idea of running isn’t about what I’m leaving behind.

It’s about what’s waiting for us out there.