His rough, calloused fingers wrapped around hers, already poised on the hilt of her dagger. Before she could blink, he stepped forward, pinning her against the bar. His body pressed firm and hot against her, all lean muscles and unshakable confidence.
Her eyes snapped wide. She was suddenly very aware of the space between them—or lack thereof.
"I wouldn't do that here," Cade murmured, voice deep and smooth, dangerous in the way whiskey is dangerous—warm going down, and liable to burn you alive. "See, I'm something of a celebrity in these parts. Folks here? Wouldn't take kindly to you drawing steel on me."
His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and goosebumps skated down her neck, across her bare shoulders, settling low in her stomach like a storm cloud about to break.
Willa cursed her body silently. This wasn't an attraction. This was proximity. Heat. A primitive reaction to a male built like a sin and smelling like danger.
Right?
She shoved at him—hard. He didn't move an inch.
Of course not. Alpha bastard.
"That so?" she sneered, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "You always dry-hump strangers to impress the locals, or am I just lucky?"
Cade chuckled, low and lazy. "Sugar, if I was really trying to impress you, we wouldn't be standing."
"You'd be bleeding."
"Tempting."
Her eyes narrowed. "Get off me, wolf-boy, before I show everyone how fast I can gut a hometown hero."
But even as she said it, her own voice betrayed her. There was a tremor beneath the threat—rage, confusion… maybe even something she didn't want to name.
Because the truth she hated most of all?
She wanted him to press in closer.
She wanted to see if that mouth tasted like it sounded—dirty and smooth and all kinds of wrong.
Focus, Lang. You're here to bring him in. Not fantasizing about riding him into the sunset.
She turned her face up to him, close enough to kiss. Instead, she bared her teeth in a smile that promised pain.
"I don't care how beloved you are. You're a bounty, Mercer. That means I own you."
Cade tilted his head, his glowing amber eyes gleaming. "If you think that, darlin'... you're more dangerous than I thought."
And then—just as casually as he'd invaded her space—he stepped back.
Leaving her breathless. Furious. And far too aware of how much she wanted to follow.
Willa straightened, smoothing her palms down her thighs to hide the tremor Cade had left behind. Her heartbeat was still hammering in her ears, but she forced herself to walk—not stalk—across the bar toward the corner booth.
She needed distance. Focus. Control.
The crowd hadn't missed the exchange. A few patrons were murmuring, but no one moved. Cade had been right about one thing—he had pull here. And she'd just made herself visible in his territory.
Smart, Lang. Real professional.
A low whistle sounded from behind the bar.
"I was wondering how long it'd take for someone to put him in his place," Roman drawled.
Willa's head snapped up. So there he was.
Roman Voss. The Alpha of Black Hollow. Not just a local boss—but the boss. She'd read the reports, pieced together the rumors. Grace's man. Ex-enforcer. Now… king of the hill. And the way he watched her, sharp and unreadable, told her he didn't miss a damn thing.
"Willa Lang," he said. Not a question.
"Depends who's asking," she replied coolly.
Grace, sitting next to him, raised a brow and offered a tight smile. "It's her."
Roman leaned back, expression calm but undeniably lethal. "You've got steel in you. I respect that. But starting shit in my bar? That's a hell of a way to introduce yourself."
Willa tilted her head. "Then maybe he should've kept his hands—and his ego—to himself."
Roman chuckled. "He doesn't usually flirt with the people trying to arrest him. Guess you're special."
"He's not my type."
"Liar," Grace said softly, sipping her drink.
Willa blinked. "Excuse me?"
Grace shrugged. "You looked like you wanted to either stab him or drag him into a supply closet. Possibly both."
Cade's voice floated from behind her. "Now that's an idea."
Willa didn't turn. She didn't have to—his heat was back, brushing too close, like gravity had given up pretending they weren't connected.
She gritted her teeth. "I'm not here for games."
Roman's smile dropped. "Then you'd better start playing smart. You're in Black Hollow now. We don't do things by council rules here."
Her stomach twisted. "I don't give a damn about council rules. I'm just here to do a job."
But the words rang hollow.
Because she already knew—deep down—that this wasn't going to be just a job.
Not with Cade watching her like that.
Not with Grace seeing through her.
And not with the mark's name burned into her chest like a brand.
The screen door banged behind her as Willa stepped onto the porch, air thick with heat and night sounds. Cicadas buzzed in the trees, the moon hanging low and bloated above the pines. She leaned against the rail and tried to breathe.
It wasn't just Cade's presence that had her rattled. It was the whole damn town.
Too many eyes. Too much knowing silence. Too many secrets hanging in the air like smoke that never cleared.
She was supposed to be good at this. Go in. Bag the bounty. Get out.
So why did this feel like walking into a trap?
The door creaked again.
"I said I needed air," Willa snapped, already knowing who it was.
Cade didn't respond at first. Just stepped beside her like he belonged there, unbothered by her mood, by the dagger still strapped to her thigh, by the storm building under her skin.
"Roman says you've got a reputation," he finally said, voice low and even. "That you're relentless. Cold. The kind that doesn't break for anything."
She stared straight ahead. "Sounds accurate."
"So why do you look like you're about to run?"
That stung.
She turned to face him, jaw clenched. "I'm not scared of you."
"Didn't say you were." His voice dipped, rough like gravel. "I think you're scared of what you felt back there."
She scoffed. "The only thing I felt was your ego pressing into my hip."
That made him grin. And God help her; it made her grin too—for half a second.
Then his hand landed on the railing beside hers, their fingers inches apart, and the grin faded.
"I know what they told you about me," he said. "But you should ask yourself why they sent you."
"I'm the best."
"Exactly. They don't waste a bloodhound on small game." He turned, gaze serious now. "You ever wonder if you're hunting the wrong monster?"
Her breath caught.
Because she had.
Too many times. And it had never ended well.
"Careful," she whispered, pulse kicking up. "Keep talking like that and I might start thinking you're innocent."
"I'm not," he said, voice soft, almost a confession. "But I'm not your enemy either."
They stood there in silence, heat humming between them, neither one giving in. Not yet.
But Willa's walls were cracking.
And Cade?
He was patient.
Predators always were.