Page 60 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)

I’m still processing all the noise and warmth of my new family when there’s another knock at the door. I turn to Ares, arching a brow.

“Expecting someone else?” I ask.

He hesitates, then tilts his head toward the door with a strange, unreadable look. “I think this one’s for you,” he says cryptically, the words hanging between us like a dare.

The room falls into a low hush as I slip off the couch. Every step toward the door feels like moving through deep water, and through the frosted glass, I make out a tall, lean silhouette– familiar enough to make my stomach drop, startling enough to prick my nerves.

My fingers tremble as I reach for the door handle, the cold metal grounding me for a moment before I pull it open.

Jordan’s standing on the other side. Her hair’s shorter now, framing an achingly familiar face lined with quiet strength. Her eyes, rimmed red, meet mine instantly, shining with something fierce beneath the rawness.

For a long heartbeat, neither of us moves.

Then, as if gravity pulls me forward, I leap outside and fling myself into her arms.

Her hug is fierce and almost too tight, like the thought of letting go would shatter us both. I feel her trembling against me, and my own breath catches, tears springing to my eyes.

“How–” I begin as I pull back, but she cuts me off before I can ask.

“Ares. He told Archer that if I showed up, to take me in, no questions asked.”

I glance back inside toward my mate, who’s watching us with a small, private smile. I want to smack him for not telling me, but mostly, I want to cry. Because she’s here . My sister .

The pieces suddenly click together in my brain.

All the times he tried to bring Jordan up, all the times I shut him down and said I wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Now, I see this was his way of bridging that gap.

Of respecting my space, while ensuring we’d have an opportunity to patch things up in the future and have a new start.

Jordan meets my eyes, the vulnerability in her own raw and unguarded. “I’m so sorry, Miley. For everything. I know I don’t deserve–”

I shake my head, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I forgive you. I did a long time ago, I just...”

“I never meant to hurt you,” she interrupts, gripping onto my hands like a lifeline.

“Alpha showed up right before you were supposed to get there. He said he was taking me to the ceremony, that I’d be paired with Elias, and I just…

I was so scared, Miley. I just wanted out.

I know it was selfish, but I panicked, and I… ”

“I forgive you,” I say again, my gaze steady and burning with sincerity. “It might not have been the way we planned, but it worked out for both of us, and that’s all that matters now. I love you, Jordan. And I’ve missed you so much. I’m so glad you’re here.”

A watery laugh escapes her and she wipes her nose on her sleeve. “You sure? Because I have a history of screwing up and making things complicated.”

I grin, flicking a glance back inside the house where Ares waits. “Turns out, I thrive on complicated.”

We laugh softly, the sound full of relief and hope, and step inside hand in hand.

The next few hours blur into a haze of cupcakes, overlapping voices, and the kind of affection that leaves you buzzing long after it’s over.

The Raines clan is a tidal wave– loud, messy, welcoming– and for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m standing on the outside looking in.

Even Jordan, who’s always worn her attitude like armor, seems softer here, her shoulders loosening bit by bit.

In this house, the past is just background noise.

What matters is everything we’ve still got coming.

When the last person leaves and the front door clicks shut, the house exhales into stillness. The kitchen island is dusted with stray frosting smears, the sink a jumble of glasses and half-empty mugs. I stand in the middle of it all, breathing in the faint scents of vanilla, coffee, and cedar.

Ares comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, his chest warm and solid against my back.

“You okay?” he murmurs, nuzzling into my hair.

I nod, but it takes a moment for the words to find me. “I never thought I’d have this,” I admit on an exhale. “The house, the family, the mate… any of it.”

His hold tightens, a quiet fierceness in the way he says, “You deserve it, Miles. Every goddamn bit.”

I close my eyes and, for once, let myself believe it.

Maybe fate is just another word for being in the right place with the right person at the right time.

Or maybe it’s pure luck, and mine finally showed up.

Either way, I’m not letting go.

The silence that follows as we clean up is its own kind of music– not the heavy, haunted quiet of my childhood, but something charged, like the air before the first snow falls.

The house is still so new it doesn’t creak when I walk barefoot across the hardwood.

There’s no sound of sirens outside, no hum of traffic. Just peace .

Ares is in the kitchen tackling the cupcake carnage, but I know he’s tuned in to me. Every time I shift my weight or tap my fingers on the banister, I can feel his attention sharpen.

I test it, dragging my nails down the rail in a slow, deliberate staccato as I step up onto the first stair.

It works.

He’s there almost instantly, silent but unmistakable, a dishtowel slung over one shoulder and his shirt nowhere in sight.

The hallway light cuts across him, shadowing the valleys of his torso and making every line of muscle look sculpted on purpose.

I want to memorize it– or take a picture so I can prove to myself tomorrow this isn’t a fever dream.

“You gonna haunt the staircase all night, or…?” he asks, one brow arching in mock impatience.

I turn to lean a hip against the rail and let my gaze roam over him with exaggerated slowness. “Just doing a perimeter check. Don’t want any mountain lions sneaking in to steal cupcakes.”

His eyes sweep over me, slow and hungry. “Is that what you’re calling yourself now? A mountain lion?”

I snort. “You wish you could handle a mountain lion.”

He steps in, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off his body. “I’ve got a good track record with wild things. Especially ones that like cupcakes.”

He plants his hands on either side of the banister, caging me in without touching, giving me the choice. He cocks his head, that quiet challenge in his gaze.

I consider making him wait– just to prove I can– but tonight isn’t for games.

Instead, I lace my fingers behind his neck, tug him down, and kiss him like it’s the only thing on my to-do list.

His lips are warm and sweet, tasting faintly of frosting. He immediately deepens the kiss, hands sliding low around my waist before lifting me like I weigh nothing at all. A sharp, surprised yelp escapes me as he sets me down on the banister, but all he does is grin wickedly.

“Careful,” I warn, breathless. “You drop me, and I’m haunting your ass for real.”

He growls, mouth moving to my throat, teeth grazing the skin. “You think I’d let you go? No fucking way, babe.”

His mouth descends on mine and the kiss quickly turns serious, desperate, edged with something dangerous. He bites down on the soft spot just below my jaw, and a shiver ripples all the way to my toes.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he murmurs, voice rough with need.

I want to say something sarcastic, but my brain shorts out. So I grab the front of his jeans and pull him closer, grinding against him until he’s the one groaning.

Without breaking eye contact, he hooks his arm under my knees and lifts me clean off the banister, carrying me bridal-style up the stairs with effortless strength.

In the bedroom, he sets me down with care, and I’m already tugging my shirt off over my head before my feet even touch the carpet, backing away from him slowly.

He watches, fists clenched at his sides, eyes gone so dark they almost look black. “You trying to kill me?” he growls.

“Maybe,” I tease, tossing my shirt at his head with a wicked smile.

He catches it in midair, breath hitching as he inhales the scent of me on the fabric and his eyes close for a slow, savoring moment. “Keep going,” he murmurs, voice husky. “I like this show.”

I slide my hands down to the button of my jeans, undoing them deliberately slowly, relishing in the way his gaze sharpens with every inch I reveal. When I peel off my bra and toss it into the growing pile on the floor, he damn near whimpers.

“Your turn,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and lifting a brow.

He grins, then strips out of his jeans so fast it’s almost indecent. His thick cock is already half hard, and the second I look, he’s fully there. My body tightens, a delicious ache blooming low in my belly.

I drift toward him like gravity, stepping in close until our bodies are pressed together.

He sweeps me into a kiss that’s all teeth and tongues and desperate hands, his palms clamping onto my ass.

He lifts me up again, carrying me over to the bed and dropping me onto the mattress.

Following me down, he pins my wrists above my head.

“You gonna be a good girl for me, beautiful?” he asks, nipping my lower lip.

“We’ll see,” I pant, grinding my hips until he groans against me.

He trails kisses down my body, licking and biting with exquisite precision, leaving marks in all the spots that drive me wild. He lingers at my breasts, tongue licking and sucking until my nipples are taut and I’m arching into him like I can’t get enough.

“God, I love how sensitive you are,” he says reverently.

I want to hide my flushed face, but he won’t let me. His gaze pins me in place– dark, possessive, unwavering– as his mouth keeps worshipping and his hands move with purpose.

When he moves lower, he parts my legs slowly, just holding me open for a beat and staring at my bare pussy.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls. “Can’t believe this is mine.”

I nearly snap back with something snarky about property rights, but then he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up my center and I lose the ability to form words.

He’s always been so good at this– focused, relentless, like eating me out is both an art and a sport– but tonight, he’s showing off.

Every flick of his tongue is carefully calculated to unravel me, every kiss and bite a reminder that he knows exactly how to play my body like an instrument until I’m screaming.

He slips two fingers inside, curling them just right, and I’m already so wet it’s almost embarrassing.

“You like that, baby?” he asks, mouth glistening.

“Yes,” I gasp, fisting the sheets. “Don’t stop.”

He grins against me, then goes harder, faster, tongue on my clit while his fingers pump inside. It’s all so much, so intense I almost can’t handle it.

Ares looks up at me again, dark eyes glittering with wicked intent. “You gonna come for me sweetheart?” he rumbles. “Be a good girl and make a mess on my face?”

“Fuck yes,” I whimper, voice trembling.

He rewards me by sucking my clit between his lips, and I lose control, coming so hard I see stars. He keeps going, working me through the waves, slow and steady until I’m gasping and begging for air.

When I finally catch my breath, he crawls up and kisses me, letting me taste myself on his lips.

“That was just the warmup,” he drawls, voice smug and satisfied.

I roll him onto his back and straddle his lap, refusing to let him dominate this entire night. I line him up, sink down, and we both groan at the exquisite sensation of our bodies joining .

I ride him slow at first, hands braced on his chest, but then he grabs my hips and starts thrusting up, hard and deep.

“You like being on top, don’t you baby?” he pants. “All those years being bossed around, and now you get to be in control.”

“Shut up,” I snap, though we both know I love it when he talks dirty like this.

“You gonna come for me again?” he growls.

I nod, too far gone to deny it.

His thumb rubs circles over my clit, eyes locked on mine with fierce hunger, and seconds later I’m teetering on the edge again.

“Come for me,” he commands. “Let go, baby. Show me how good I fuck you.”

I do, and it’s even better than the first; white-hot and all consuming. He follows seconds later, gripping my hips tight enough to bruise.

We collapse together in the center of the bed, tangled and trembling, sweat cooling on our skin in the quiet aftermath.

After a few minutes, I roll off him and pull the covers over both of us. He spoons me from behind, nuzzling my neck with one arm draped across my stomach like he’s never letting go.

“I love you,” he murmurs, the words soft and unguarded.

I cover his hand with mine, heart full. “I love you too. More than cupcakes. More than anything.”

He laughs, kisses the back of my neck, and we drift toward sleep, the silence now warm and full around us.

For the first time in my life, there are no plans, no backup strategies, no escape routes.

Just him.

Just us.

Just a future, wide open and waiting, because we’re finally home.

THE END