Page 32

Briar

It’s late, and the safe house is wrapped in darkness. The steady rhythm of Orion’s breathing beside me has lulled me into a light sleep, one I’m desperately grateful for after the last few weeks of chaos. But something stirs me—a flicker of unease skittering down my spine. I blink away the haze of dreams, taking a moment to register my surroundings. Orion’s arms are draped around me, protective even in slumber.

I carefully ease out from under his arm, not wanting to wake him. He needs his rest—his side still bandaged from that damn bullet. The idea that he nearly died keeps me awake some nights. Not tonight , I think, slipping my feet onto the floor. I’m just thirsty, that’s all.

The wooden boards creak under my step as I pad into the hallway, arms folded against the slight chill. The safe house is quiet, shadows stretching across walls and floors under the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. Jeb’s soft rustle sounds from the living room, but he doesn’t stir.

In the kitchen, I flick on the small overhead light above the stove, bathing the counters in a soft, yellowish glow. I reach for a glass, trying not to dwell on the feeling that something is… off. Maybe the safe house’s hush is messing with me, or the memory of all we’ve been through has me on edge.

I open the fridge and grab a water bottle, unscrewing the cap for a sip. That’s when I sense movement behind me—a subtle shift of air, a presence lurking just on the edge of my vision. My heart hammers as I spin around.

“Jason,” I manage to whisper, my voice paralyzed somewhere between shock and terror. He’s standing there, mere steps away, eyes gleaming with an unsettling hunger. He found us.

I take a breath to scream, but he lunges forward, clapping a strong hand over my mouth. I drop the water bottle, the plastic clattering to the floor, water spilling across the tiles. A muffled cry escapes my throat, hands flailing to push him off, but he’s stronger than I remember, or maybe it’s the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Shh,” he hisses, his free arm locking around my waist. “Don’t make a sound.”

My mind races. How did he get in? The safe house was locked, with extra security Orion’s team set up. Did Jason manage to bypass them all? But I can’t focus on that—I’m too busy fighting, thrashing my legs and twisting my hips, desperate to break free or at least alert Orion. He must hear the struggle, must wake up. Orion, please wake up.

Jason jerks his head toward the back door, dragging me across the kitchen. My socked feet slide helplessly on the puddle of spilled water. I try to dig my heels in, but he’s relentless, forcing me to shuffle backward until we hit the threshold.

The cold night air washes over me as Jason yanks open the door, hauling me outside. My fists beat at his chest, nails scratching wildly at his arm, but he doesn’t relent. When I manage a muffled cry, he clamps his hand tighter over my mouth, nearly cutting off my air. My lungs burn as I fight to breathe.

I catch a glimpse of the yard—a patchy lawn, a battered fence, the moon casting pale light across the grass. Everything looks so normal, so calm, except for the storm of panic roaring through me.

“Let me go,” I try to shout, but it comes out garbled against his palm. My heart is slamming in my chest so hard I swear it’s bruising my ribs.

He lowers his mouth near my ear. “Don’t make this worse, Briar,” he snarls, voice filled with twisted desperation. His hand slides from my mouth to my jaw, gripping it firmly as he pulls me away from the house.

I open my mouth, intending to scream Orion’s name, but before I can, Jason clamps down again, suffocating any sound. I drive my elbow into his ribs, a burst of triumph flaring when I feel him grunt. But he keeps hold, dragging me further into the darkness.

My mind whirls with dread. Orion, please. If he doesn’t wake soon, I’ll be gone again—dragged off by this madman who’s already stolen too much from me. I thrash harder, ignoring the tears burning my eyes. This can’t be happening. We were safe. We were finally safe.

But Jason’s iron grip says otherwise, and the night swallows my muffled screams as he drags me away.

My heart is pounding so hard I swear it’s going to burst out of my chest. Jason’s grip on my arm is bruising, his fingers digging into the flesh above my elbow. My teeth are clenched, and I force myself to speak through the searing panic.

“How did you even find me?” I manage to ask, fighting the tremor in my voice.

Jason’s lips curl into a sneer. “I knew Orion had been shot. Figured he’d end up at a hospital, and eventually you’d show up there too.” His eyes gleam with twisted satisfaction. “You basically delivered yourself right back into my hands.”

My stomach twists. I try to yank away, but his hold is like a vice. “You’re sick,” I spit, voice trembling with adrenaline. “You can’t keep doing this.”

He huffs a dry laugh, tugging me closer. The stench of stale sweat and desperation clings to him, making my stomach turn. “Can’t I?” he asks, low and cruel. “I loved you, Briar, and you walked away. You belong with me.”

Rage surges up my throat. I lunge backward, trying to tear free, but he jerks me so hard I nearly lose my balance. My heart hammers. Orion. He must have heard something—he has to be on his way. I cling to that hope like a lifeline.

Before I can form another word, a presence emerges from behind a nearby tree. The moonlight cuts across Orion’s tall frame, his gun leveled at Jason, unwavering. I almost sag with relief at the sight of him, bruised and bandaged but every bit the alpha protector I’ve come to trust.

“Let her go,” Orion growls. His tone is lethal, deep, and commanding. “You’re not taking Briar anywhere.”

Jason’s grip falters, and for a split second, I see fear flicker in his eyes. He recovers quickly, though, yanking me in front of him like a shield. My pulse spikes, but Orion doesn’t lower his weapon.

“Put the gun down,” Jason barks, jaw tight. “Or I’ll snap her neck.”

Orion’s eyes fix on me, the silent message clear: Hold on. I’ve got you. He steps forward, slow, precise, ignoring the pain I know must be lancing through his healing side. “This ends now,” he warns, his voice a low rumble. “You’re not escaping.”

Jason shifts, his grip loosening a fraction as he glances around, maybe looking for a way out. In that heartbeat of hesitation, I remember what Orion showed me about self-defense—aim for the instep. Summoning every scrap of courage, I slam my foot down on Jason’s ankle, driving my heel into his vulnerable spot.

He yelps in pain, reflexively letting go. I twist free, scrambling out of his reach. Before Jason can even retaliate, Orion’s finger tightens on the trigger. The muzzle flash lights the night, and my ears ring as gunfire shatters the tense silence.

Jason staggers, eyes wide, then collapses onto the grass. A single ragged breath escapes him before he goes still. I stand there, chest heaving, heart racing, time frozen in the aftermath. It’s over. It’s finally over.

I turn to Orion, tears welling up as the magnitude of what just happened slams into me. He’s already lowering his weapon, exhaling a shaky breath. Despite his injuries, despite everything, he’s here, and he saved me.

We lock eyes. My knees nearly give out, but Orion catches me before I fall. His arms fold around me, warmth radiating from him in a rush of relief. I bury my face in his shoulder, trembling as the realization sinks in—Jason’s gone. He can’t hurt me anymore.

The night air feels suddenly colder, the moonlight glaring on the motionless figure on the ground. But Orion’s presence steadies me, his heartbeat thudding reassuringly against my ear.

“It’s over,” he murmurs, pressing a careful kiss to my temple. His voice shakes, just a little. “He can’t take you from me ever again.”

And for the first time in what seems like forever, I feel safe—truly, finally safe.