Page 3

T he message from Leo hit me like a bullet between the ribs. Someone had tried to burn him alive. Someone had dared to target the one person I couldn't bear to lose. My fingers tightened around my phone until the case creaked, rage flooding my system with beautiful clarity. The world around me sharpened to crystal focus, colors more vibrant, sounds more distinct. Rage didn't cloud my judgment like it did for normal people. It refined it, distilled everything down to pure, perfect purpose.

I took the funeral home stairs three at a time, my steel-toed boots echoing through the empty hallways. Each step sent a delicious thrill of anticipation through my veins. Someone was about to learn the cost of touching what was mine. The fall air slapped cold against my face as I burst out the back door, but I barely felt it through the familiar surge of adrenaline and possession burning through my veins.

My bike waited in the shadows like a patient predator, all sleek black lines and cutting-edge tech. I'd modified the Kawasaki Ninja ZX10R myself, stripping away everything that didn't serve a purpose and upgrading what remained until it purred like a demon under my hands. It responded to my touch like an extension of my body, the way all my tools did. The leather of my fingerless gloves creaked as I gripped the handles, throwing my leg over the seat in one practiced motion. My jacket, worn leather decorated with band patches and strategically placed knife sheaths, settled around me like armor.

I kicked the stand down and wheeled the bike from its spot behind the family home, throwing a glance at the funeral parlor next door. The light in the office was still on, which meant Dad was working late. He’d thrown himself into his work a lot of late, ever since Uncle Sacha died.

The engine's growl matched the fury in my blood as I tore out of the parking lot, taking the first turn so low my knee almost scraped the pavement. I could feel myself slipping into that other space, the hunting mindset where everything unnecessary fell away. Past the town limits, the world dissolved into a symphony of darkness and scattered light. Empty cornfields stretched into shadow on either side, dead stalks rattling like bones in the wind. The harvest moon hung bloated and orange through gaps in the autumn clouds, painting everything in the same color as my favorite accelerants.

The digital display glowed red in the darkness, numbers climbing as I pushed the bike harder. Eighty. Ninety. One hundred. The wind tried to rip my hood back, but the strings held, the fabric snapping around my face like a second skin. Ancient oaks and maples blurred past, their branches reaching across the road like gnarled fingers trying to snatch me from the sky. The air grew thick with the scent of decaying leaves and freshly spread manure from the dairy farms, life and death cycling eternal in the forgotten corners of Southeast Ohio.

A suicidal deer bounded across the road, close enough for me to see the terror in its eyes as I swerved. The movement was pure instinct, my body and bike moving as one through the maze of rural curves I'd memorized. Through gaps in the trees, abandoned barns slumped in their fields like forgotten headstones, their weathered wood begging for the kiss of flame. I imagined how they would look transformed by fire, timber blackening, paint bubbling, structure returning to fundamental elements. Perfect. Pure. Honest.

The bike screamed around corners as red tinted my vision. Two years I'd spent learning every detail of Leo's life. The way he pushed his glasses up when he was nervous. How his eyes lit up when he talked about new tech. The exact sound of his laugh when I said something particularly twisted. The careful way he handled his electronics, like each circuit board was precious. He was mine to watch. Mine to protect. Mine to possess. Not because I'd decided it on a whim, but because I'd observed, cataloged, and known him more thoroughly than he knew himself. That kind of knowledge was ownership more binding than any legal document. And someone had tried to destroy him.

I could smell the smoke before I saw it, acrid and wrong in a way that made my hands clench tighter on the grips. This wasn't my fire. My fires were precise instruments of justice. This was the kind of fire set by someone who didn't understand its true beauty. Fire wasn't just destruction, it was transformation. It cleansed. It purified. This was just vandalism with heat, an insult to the element I'd spent years studying.

The compound's entrance flew past in a blur. I killed the engine but let momentum carry me through the maze of stacked cars and equipment, gravel spraying as the bike slid to a stop. The orange glow of flames painted everything in hellish light, casting twisted shadows across the familiar landscape of the Junkyard Dogs' territory. It was beautiful in the way natural disasters were beautiful, raw power unleashed without purpose or direction. Wasted potential. If you were going to burn something, it should mean something. It should be a statement, not a tantrum.

Then I saw him, and everything else fell away. Leo stood near the burning wreckage of his home, clutching his laptop bag like it could shield him from the world. His Star Wars shirt was smudged with soot, his dark hair wild from running, glasses slightly askew in that way that always made my chest feel weird. The flames reflected in his lenses, making his eyes look like they held fire. He was alive. He was perfect. He was everything I didn't deserve to want.

My hands clenched into fists as I stalked toward him, taking in every scrape, every smudge of ash, every tremble in his shoulders. Each mark etched itself into my memory, a ledger of debts I would collect with interest. Whoever had done this would suffer exquisitely.

I just had to figure out how to do all that without him realizing exactly how much I needed him to keep breathing. How much I needed him to keep looking at me like I was his hero instead of his nightmare. The difference between stalking and surveillance was permission, and Leo had never given his. But that hadn't stopped me from installing monitoring software on his devices, from tracking his movements, from learning his routines. Not out of some twisted sexual desire, but from a deeper need to know he was safe.

But first, I had some hunting to do. And this time, I was going to take my time with the kill.

The compound churned with activity, mercenaries moving through the firelight like shadows in a fever dream. Someone had dragged out industrial fire extinguishers, their white spray cutting through the flames in useless bursts. The fire had already claimed too much territory, marking its victory in the way Leo's trailer groaned and buckled. The heat pressed against my face like an eager pet, begging for attention, but for once I didn't want to watch it dance.

"Xavier." Leo's voice cracked on my name, and something in my chest cracked with it. He took a step toward me, then stopped, uncertainty written in every line of his body. The flames reflected in his glasses. Some part of me thrilled at that, at seeing him touched by the element I loved, marked by it but not consumed. My head flashed with sudden imagery—Leo's skin painted in firelight, Leo's eyes wide as I showed him how fire could feel against flesh, Leo trembling with a mix of fear and want.

I crossed the distance between us in three strides, my hands moving without permission to grip his shoulders. Under my fingers, his Star Wars shirt was damp with sweat and fear. I could feel him trembling, could smell smoke in his hair, could see a smudge of ash across one cheekbone that made me want to commit murder. It also made me want to lick it away, to taste the fire on his skin.

"Tell me everything," I said, my voice coming out darker than intended. My thumbs moved in small circles against his collarbones, a possessive comfort I couldn't stop myself from offering. "Every detail. Every sound. Every smell. Don't leave anything out."

Leo swayed slightly, leaning into my touch in a way that made the monster in my chest purr. "We were in the kitchen when I smelled smoke, but the detector never went off. Then there was this sound, this whoosh, and suddenly everything was burning." His voice cracked on the last word.

I pulled him closer, telling myself I was checking for injuries. My hands skimmed down his arms, across his chest. Nothing seemed broken. Nothing bleeding. But he was watching me with those huge dark eyes, and I couldn't stop touching him long enough to think straight. Each point of contact felt like electricity, like something essential flowing between us. I knew every inch of him by sight, had spent two years observing and wanting, but touching him still felt forbidden. Sacred, almost.

"The smoke detector." Rage sharpened my focus to a knife's edge. "Someone disabled it. Planned this. Waited until you were both awake to make sure you'd know exactly what was happening." My fingers brushed the hem of his shirt, seeking skin I had no right to touch. "They wanted you to feel the fear." They wanted to watch you suffer , I added silently. Just like I want to watch them suffer when I find them.

A shudder ran through Leo's body, and I pulled him against my chest before I could stop myself. He came willingly, pressing his face into my leather jacket like he belonged there. Like he trusted me. Like he didn't know my hands were stained with enough blood to drown us both.

"I've got you," I whispered into his hair, the words tasting like ash and promises. "No one who hurts you walks away unscathed." The raw intensity in my voice should have frightened him. Should have made him pull away, question what I meant. But Leo just pressed closer, maybe too traumatized to notice the dangerous edge in my tone, or maybe choosing to ignore it. Whatever the reason, I was grateful to feel his heart beating against mine.

Around us, the compound continued its frantic dance of rescue and containment. Boone shouted orders, but all I could focus on was Leo's heartbeat against my chest and the growing certainty that someone had just signed their own death warrant.

The fire reached something electronic in the wreckage, sending sparks cascading into the night sky. Leo flinched, and my arms tightened automatically. He smelled like fear and smoke and everything I wanted to protect. Everything I would burn the world to keep safe.

"My room," he said against my jacket. "All your security systems. The surveillance programs I wrote for you. Everything's gone."

I almost laughed. He'd nearly died, and he was worried about my security. As if I cared about anything but the pulse beneath my fingers, the warmth of his breath against my chest, the way he fit against me like he was made to be there. Physical things could always be replaced, but the thought of Leo's eyes never looking at me again, of his voice never saying my name… That was a loss I couldn't contemplate.

"We'll rebuild it," I said, my fingers still tangled in his hair. "Better. Stronger. And you're coming home with me tonight."

It wasn't a request or a suggestion. It was a statement of fact, because I couldn't bear the thought of him anywhere I couldn't see him, couldn't touch him, couldn't protect him. The fear that had gripped me when I saw his message was still there, coiled like a snake around my spine, whispering that even now he wasn't safe. That someone could take him from me at any moment.

Leo pulled back just enough to look up at me. "If I'm not safe in a compound full of armed mercenaries..."

"You're not winning this argument. Someone just tried to burn you alive. You really think I'm letting you out of my sight?" The words came out harsher than intended, but I couldn't soften them. I needed him to realize how serious I was.

"He’s got a point," Xion said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Whole compound's compromised. Ain't safe till we know what we're dealing with."

I nodded a brief greeting to my triplet brother, who nodded back.

Leo's fingers tightened on my jacket. "But my computers, my models..." His voice cracked, and something in my chest cracked with it. "Everything's gone."

"And you're alive." My hands tightened on his shoulders. "That's all that matters. The rest is just stuff. We'll replace it."

I'd buy him a thousand computers, a million anime figures, anything to ease the loss I saw in his eyes. I'd give him the world if he asked for it. Or burn it down. Whichever he preferred.

Through the smoke, I could see other Junkyard Dogs starting to gather their shell-shocked neighbors, organizing sleeping arrangements and spare clothes. The compound taking care of its own. But they couldn't protect Leo the way I could. No one understood the precise nature of this threat like I did. No one else would go to the lengths I would to keep him safe.

"Get whatever survived," I said. "We're leaving in five."

Leo opened his mouth like he might argue again, then closed it. Smart boy. He knew me well enough to recognize when I wouldn't be moved. Instead, he clutched his laptop bag closer and looked toward the burning wreckage of his home.

"I need to check on Wattson," he said quietly.

"Doc's crashing with us," Xion said, lighting a fresh cigarette from the butt of his old one. "Already got Boone setting up the spare bedroom. Ain't letting our medic sleep in his truck."

Something in Leo's shoulders relaxed at that. Of course he'd been worried about his roommate. Leo worried about everyone except himself. It was one of the many things that made him so different from me, so necessary to my life. Where I saw tools and assets, he saw people. Where I calculated survival odds, he felt empathy. He was my moral compass even when he didn't know it, the voice in the back of my head asking what Leo would think of my choices.

"Five minutes," I reminded him, letting my hands fall from his shoulders. The loss of contact felt wrong. "Get what you need. Nothing that can't be replaced."

He nodded and moved toward the wreckage, where Boone was coordinating the firefighting effort. I watched him go, the fire painting his skin in shades of gold. His shirt hung loose on his frame, making him look younger and more vulnerable than his twenty-six years.

"You're so fucking obvious it hurts," Xion said, blowing smoke into the night air. "Just kiss him already."

"Shut up, Ten."

"Make me, X." He grinned around his cigarette, using the nickname I hated. "But seriously, you show up here like the fucking cavalry, manhandle him like he's your property, and think nobody notices?"

I turned to face my brother, letting some of the darkness show in my eyes. The mask I wore for Leo slipped, revealing the predator beneath. "Someone tried to kill him."

"Yeah, and you're taking it real personal for someone who's just a friend." He held up his hands as I growled. "Hey, I get it. You think I don't remember what it was like with Boone? Wanting something so bad you can't think straight, but being too scared to mess it up?"

"I'm not scared of anything." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. I was scared of losing Leo. Scared of him seeing the monster beneath my carefully constructed facade. Scared that if he knew what I really was, what I was really capable of, he'd run. And I wasn't sure I'd be able to let him.

Xion's laugh was rough and knowing. "Right. That's why you're literally forcing him to come home with you instead of just asking him out like a normal person."

"I'm not forcing him to do shit," I pointed out. "It's not like he doesn't want to."

I'd seen the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching. The way his pupils dilated when I used that specific tone of voice. The way his breathing changed when I stood too close. Leo wanted me sexually, a reality I'd come to terms with months ago. I recognized his desire with the same clinical detachment I'd use to analyze any other emotional response. His wanting wasn't a problem. I could work with it, channel it, use it to bind him closer. The fact that I couldn't reciprocate that specific hunger didn't matter. If I had to, I could fake it if it’d keep him close to me. I’d fuck him if I had to, if that was what it took to keep him close. I certainly wasn’t going to allow anyone else to do it. If Leo needed something—anything—I wanted him to get it from me. That included his orgasms. I just had to figure out how to rectify that with my own needs, something I hadn’t quite managed yet.

Xion took a long drag of his cigarette, looking at me like I was the dumbest thing he'd seen since that guy who tried to steal catalytic converters from the compound last month. "Right. Because 'you're coming with me' sounds real fucking optional."

"He needs somewhere safe to stay."

"Uh huh." Xion flicked ash into the darkness. "And your bedroom is the only safe place in three counties. Not like we got a whole compound of armed mercs or nothing."

"Someone got through your security."

"Someone got through Leo's security," Xion corrected, jabbing his cigarette at me for emphasis. "Which means they're after him specifically. And you're what, just being a good friend? Taking one for the team?"

My jaw tightened. "He's mine to protect."

"Yours to protect," Xion repeated flatly. "Jesus fucking Christ, do you hear yourself? That's not something people say platonically, you idiot."

“He's my best friend. Excuse me for not wanting him to die."

"And I'm the Queen of fucking England. You think I don't see how you look at him? How you gotta touch him every time he's within reach? Hell, the whole compound's got a betting pool on when you two are finally gonna..."

I elbowed Xion when I saw Leo was heading back our way, clutching a singed backpack along with his laptop bag. Even through the smoke and chaos, something in my chest tightened at the sight of him.

"We're done here," I growled at Xion, already moving to intercept Leo.

"Yeah, run away from the truth. That always works great." Ten's voice followed me, rough with amusement and something that might have been concern. "Hey, don't fuck him up too bad, X. He's still our tech expert!"

I flipped Ten off without turning around, already focused on Leo. He looked smaller somehow. Everything he owned was reduced to two bags and the clothes on his back. The fragility of human existence made physical, embodied in the man standing before me.

"That all you could save?" I asked, eyeing his bag.

"Yeah." His voice cracked on the word. "My Sailor Mercury figure melted. I know it's stupid to be upset about that when..."

"It's not stupid." I cut him off before he could start apologizing for having feelings. Leo was always doing that, always diminishing his own pain, always pushing his needs aside for others. It was infuriating. It was endearing. It made me want to force him to acknowledge his own worth, even if I had to burn the value into his skin. "Come on. Bike's this way."

Behind us, Xion's rough laugh mixed with the crackle of flames. I could practically feel his knowing smirk burning into my back. But Leo was already moving with me through the maze of vehicles and equipment, trusting me to guide him even though his whole world had just gone up in smoke.

The bike waited where I'd left it, a darker shadow among shadows. Leo hesitated when he saw it, and something clicked in my brain. Two years of friendship, and he'd never actually ridden with me before.

"Put the backpack on," I said, helping him adjust the straps. "Laptop bag can go crossbody. You're going to need both arms free to hold on to me."

He nodded, following my instructions with those still trembling hands. When he was settled, I swung onto the bike and looked back at him.

"I won't let you fall," I said. "But you need to hold on tight. You trust me?"

"Always," Leo said, and something in my chest contracted painfully. He shouldn't trust me. Not after the things I'd done. But he did, completely and without reservation. That trust was a responsibility I carried with the same gravity as my hunts. Maybe more.

He climbed on behind me, movements hesitant. I felt him settle too far back on the seat, trying to maintain some polite distance that would get him killed on the first sharp turn.

"Scoot forward," I ordered, reaching back to grab his thigh and pull him closer. "You need to be right against me."

Leo made a small, startled sound but did as he was told, sliding forward until his chest pressed against my back. The contact sent a wave of satisfaction through me. Physical touch wasn't something I gave away easily. Each point of contact was a gift, a claim, a promise. And right now, every press of Leo's body against mine felt like completing a circuit I hadn't known was broken.

"Arms around my waist," I said. His hands settled too high, too loose. "No. Lower. Tighter."

I grabbed his wrists and pulled them down, guiding his arms to circle my waist properly. The way his fingers clutched my jacket sent a wave of satisfaction through my blood. I'd spent two years carefully rationing physical contact. A hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing as we passed tools back and forth. But this? Having him pressed against me, trusting me with his safety? This was different. Almost sacred.

"Like that," I said. "Don't let go. When we turn, lean with me. Your legs should be tight against mine."

Leo shifted, adjusting his position until he fit against me perfectly. Every breath he took pressed against my back, every slight tremor in his arms registered like an electric shock. The sensation of him pressed against me was intoxicating.

The engine roared to life beneath us, and his grip tightened instinctively. A smile curved my lips. Having Leo this close felt like claiming territory. Like finally having something precious exactly where it belonged.

I took the first turn slower than usual, giving him time to learn how to move with me. His thighs squeezed against mine as he followed my lead, learning the rhythm of the bike. The heat of him burned through my clothes, somehow hotter than the fire we were leaving behind.

Behind us, the orange glow of Leo's burning home painted the sky. Ahead, nothing but dark road and the promise of revenge.

And between those two points, Leo's arms around my waist, trusted with a kind of intimacy I rarely allowed anyone else to have.