Page 11

Chapter eleven

Sofia

J ase was sitting at the corner table by the door to the Bottley, typing furiously on his phone. Not for the first time this morning, I wondered what the hell was up with my brother. His scent had been edgy ever since I woke up to find him sitting outside my bedroom door like some sort of guard dog.

He’d claimed he’d been searching for a lost earring from his latest girlfriend, which was a blatant lie—he didn’t have girlfriends these days, not with how busy he was with work, along with the fact he was still pining over Amara. But even when he used to have girlfriends, he never brought them back to our apartment.

Then he told me he had the day off and wanted to spend it with me. A day off? Jase? I wasn’t buying it. But I also wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to spend the day with him. Only now, I was beginning to worry. Had he been fired? Was he having issues with the other enforcers? If any of them were messing with my brother, they’d have me to answer to.

The door swung open, and I instinctively straightened, looking up with a bright smile that was all muscle memory. My stomach dipped when I saw who it was.

Derek.

“Morning, Shaw,” I greeted, schooling my face into something neutral.

Something about his energy was different today; he almost looked… agitated. He didn’t respond right away. Just stood there for a second, his sharp, gray eyes looking me over before he scanned the room.

“Derek?” I tried again.

He gave me a quick nod, then headed straight for the Booth of Brooding, stopping at Jase’s table on the way. He leaned down and whispered something to my brother that even I couldn’t pick up.

What the freaking hell was going on? I turned back to the counter, trying to ignore the strange knot forming in my chest. It wasn’t like Derek Shaw owed me a conversation, and Goddess knew I didn’t want to start my Sunday playing twenty questions with him. But still, something about the way he moved, the tension rolling off him… it didn’t sit right.

My wolf paced in the back of my mind, uneasy.

I ground the beans and steamed the milk for Mrs. Tuck’s Whispering Willow latte. It was one of my most popular creations, a smooth lavender and honey latte with a touch of vanilla, but I couldn’t help throwing glances over my shoulder. Derek didn’t pull his laptop out like he normally did. Instead, he sat there, his eyes scanning the room every few seconds, his hands gripping his phone like it might sprout wings and fly away if he didn’t hold on to it.

Something was wrong.

The tension wafting off Derek was hard to ignore, and it scraped against my frayed nerves like sandpaper. This wasn’t normal. Derek Shaw was… unflappable. Or at least he had been since the moment he swaggered back into the Three Rivers Pack and started taking up space in my life.

And now? He was flapped . Big time.

I wiped my hands on my apron and grabbed his order—black coffee and a plain croissant. The most aggressively boring breakfast in existence, perfectly on-brand for Derek Shaw. No frills, no joy, just fuel.

“Your daily dose of bland,” I announced, sliding the plate and mug in front of him. “Rushed in early, like the pain in the ass you are, to ruin my peaceful Sunday, or is there another establishment you’re planning to terrorize with your charm after this?”

For a microsecond, his lips almost twitched upward. That rare half-smile I absolutely had not cataloged in my mental Derek Shaw expression archive nearly made an appearance, but it was gone before it could fully settle on his face, leaving something much harder in its place.

“That your professional opinion? Me, a pain in the ass?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’m nominating you for an award. We’ll hang your plaque right there: ‘Most Dedicated Brooder, Five Years Running.’ You can wear your scowl to the ceremony. It’ll be very on-theme. We might even get you into the local news.”

Not even a twitch this time. Instead, his eyes kept ping-ponging between the door, the windows and back. His jaw clenched as he ran a hand over his military-short hair, fingers tensing at his nape.

This was starting to freak me out.

“Oh no,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Someone’s about to snatch the pastries off the counter, aren’t they? Quick! Duck and cover.”

His gaze locked on something behind me. I turned to see Sam filling the doorway—broad shoulders wrapped in leather, brown hair framing sharp features similar but not identical to Derek’s. Where Derek commanded attention, Sam’s presence seeped in gradually, like smoke under a door, pressing against your skin until you couldn’t ignore it.

I glanced between the twins, and a memory of them in school rose in my mind. Back when they were different. Back when they still smiled those easy teenage smiles.

The memory surfaced without warning: me alone in the gym, hunting for my favorite blue hair tie—the one Mai had given me for my thirteenth birthday. I was crouched by the bleachers, running my fingers along the dusty floor, when their scent hit me.

Brock Madden’s thugs. Ben and Roscoe.

I swore under my breath. Nothing good ever followed their arrival.

Their presence always meant the same thing—torment for someone smaller, weaker, or just unlucky enough to cross their path.

“Look what we have here,” Ben drawled. “Thought I smelled prey,”

I stood slowly, my heart hammering against my chest.

“Looking for this?” Roscoe said, dangling my hair tie from a finger. “Bet it’d look better down the toilet.”

“Give it back,” I warned, though my voice shook slightly.

Ben laughed. “Or what?”

“Or we break both your legs.”

I spun around to find Derek and Sam moving in sync as they approached, their footsteps and expressions perfectly matching.

“A hair tie, Roscoe? Really?” Sam’s voice was deceptively light. “Not sure it’s your color.”

Ben sneered, “This isn’t your business, Shaw. Either of you.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Derek said, stepping slightly in front of me as Sam mirrored him on my other side. “Everything to do with Sofia is our business.”

“You might want to run along now,” Sam suggested with false pleasantness.

“While you still can,” Derek finished.

“Fuck you, Shaw!” Ben lunged forward, swinging at Derek. The twins flowed around each other like water, covering each other’s blind spots instinctively. As Derek sidestepped Ben’s wild swing, Sam was already pivoting, catching Roscoe’s arm and twisting it behind his back. Derek’s hand snapped out, driving Ben’s face into the bleachers with a satisfying crunch.

“My nose!” Ben howled, blood streaming down his face.

“You know,” Sam said conversationally, as if he wasn’t bending Roscoe’s arm at an unnatural angle, “I’m actually disappointed. I expected better from Brock’s lackeys.”

Sam plucked my hair tie from Roscoe’s clenched fist and tossed it to Derek, who handed it to me with a nod. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Derek and Sam had walked me home after, cracking jokes the whole way.

They seemed so… not happy, but hopeful maybe was the right word. So confident that life may be shit, but it was going to get better. Now? That optimism had vanished from both of them.

Sam’s eyes swept the bar, assessing it the same way Derek had, before heading to me.

“Sofia, you smell amazing as ever.”

I smiled but watched as Sam’s gaze drifted past me to Derek. As soon as it did, the warmth disappeared, replaced by a razor-sharp edge I wasn’t used to seeing directed at his twin. What the hell was going on?

“Good to see you, Sam. You want your usual? I can bring it over.”

Sam gave a small shake of the head. “Can’t stay long.”

“Sam.” Derek’s voice held more than a note of impatience.

Sam sighed. “I’ll catch you later, Sofia.” He moved toward the Booth of Brooding with the enthusiasm of someone headed to a root canal.

A violent banging erupted from the register.

“What the f—?”

“Brian!” Julie’s warning cut through the café. “Do not finish that sentence!”

“But it won’t open!”

I turned to see Brian attacking the cash drawer, black-dyed hair flopping in his eyes as he yanked like he was trying to free a trapped animal. Sighing, I pulled the nail file from my pocket—my secret weapon against temperamental café equipment.

“Here.” I jammed the file into the gap and wriggled it. The drawer popped open with a satisfying click.

“I swear this thing has a personal vendetta against me.”

“Only because you approach it like it’s a UFC opponent,” I laughed. “Trust me, in that matchup, the register remains undefeated.”

In my peripheral vision, I caught Sam standing abruptly, his chair screeching across the floor.

“I have to take this,” he said to Derek. “Don’t go anywhere. We’re not done yet.”

Derek didn’t respond, but I caught the way his jaw tightened.

Sam stepped outside and started pacing along the sidewalk, phone pressed to his ear, his free hand gesturing sharply at whatever argument was escalating on the other end of the line. Whatever that phone call was, it wasn’t good.

I glanced back at Derek. His hand slipped into Sam’s jacket draped over the chair—a movement so casual I almost missed it. Almost. Then his fingers dipped into another pocket, and I caught a flash of something small and black disappearing into his palm.

What the hell?

I froze, my instincts screaming that I wasn’t meant to have seen this. That no one was. Heart racing, I turned away quickly, pretending to adjust something under the counter. The theft had been so smooth, so practiced—like a magic trick minus the showmanship. Derek Shaw had just pickpocketed his own brother.

Sam marched back in, phone tucked away, scowl etched deep.

“I have to go,” he said curtly, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over one arm. “I’ll call when I’m done. We need to finish this, Derek.”

Derek leaned back in his chair and spread his hands wide. “Anytime.”

Sam’s frown carved deeper lines into his face before he turned and stalked out without another glance at anyone.

I stared blankly at the counter, blinking quickly. This wasn’t some stupid prank between siblings. The tension humming between them was too real, too sharp, and both Derek and Sam were too on edge right now. But I was having a hard time reconciling this Sam and Derek with the twins I knew and had grown up with. They had always been there for each other. Sure, they bickered and teased, but they had each other’s backs, no matter what. And they never stole from one another.

I thought about telling Sam. He deserved to know, didn’t he? But—despite everything Derek had done—didn’t he deserve the benefit of the doubt? My head spun with questions, but one thing was painfully clear.

Something was very, very wrong.

And whatever it was, Derek was in the middle of it.