Roman stepped through the shattered doorway like he owned the place—which, technically, he could've. That was the thing about alphas like him—they didn't ask. They didn't wait. They just were.
Willa lowered her blade, but her spine stayed straight.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, blood drying on her cheek.
"I was on my way to bring you breakfast," Roman said dryly. "But this seemed more pressing."
Cade snorted.
Roman took one look at the mangled bodies turned to ash, then met Cade's eyes. "Council dogs?"
"Leashed and run hard," Cade replied. "Tasted wrong."
Roman's gaze moved to Willa. "They were sent for you."
She stiffened. "No. They were sent to finish what I couldn't."
He shook his head. "That was a cover. You're the loose end, Lang. The council's worried about Cade, yeah—but they're terrified of you."
Willa's laugh came bitter and fast. "Why? Because I can throw a knife better than their boys?"
Roman took a folded paper from his coat pocket. Tossed it on the blood-slick table.
Willa stared down at it.
It was a bounty slip.
Her bounty.
Her name. Her face. High priority. Use of lethal force authorized.
Her blood ran cold.
"I pulled this from a contact in the outer districts," Roman said. "Hit the network an hour after you arrived in Black Hollow. That's why I've been keeping eyes on you."
Cade stepped closer, his body a shield now. "They marked her."
"She's not the only one." Roman turned to him. "But she's the only one who didn't know."
Willa folded the slip slowly, jaw tight, knuckles white.
"I've served them," she said. "Done everything they asked. Bled for them."
"They don't care," Cade said. "You were just a tool. A weapon."
"And weapons get decommissioned," Roman added.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to burn something. Instead, she forced herself to breathe.
"So what now?" she asked. "I'm a fugitive? A liability?"
"No," Roman said. "You're an opportunity. If you want the truth… I can help. But it comes with a cost."
Willa looked between them—two alphas, both dangerous in different ways.
"Why help me?" she asked, eyes narrowing.
Roman's expression didn't waver. "Because I remember what it was like to realize I'd been used. I see that look in you—the one where you're deciding whether to run or rip the system down."
She didn't respond.
Cade stepped beside her, voice low. "You don't have to decide tonight."
But she did. She knew it.
The second she stepped off the path the council laid out, there was no going back.
She took the bounty slip, folded it, and tucked it into her pocket.
Then looked Cade dead in the eye.
"You're stuck with me now, Mercer."
He grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."
The cabin was quiet after Roman left.
Too quiet.
The storm had passed—at least the physical one—but what remained was worse. Willa stood by the fireplace, staring into the cold ashes like they might offer answers. Cade hovered near the door, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched hard enough to crack bone.
"You okay?" he asked finally.
She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Define okay."
He didn't push. Just watched her like a man waiting for a trigger to be pulled. Like he knew she was standing on a line—and either she'd break, or burn.
Willa turned to face him slowly, eyes dark and guarded.
"How long have you known?"
"That you were marked?" Cade asked. "Since yesterday. Roman confirmed it last night."
"And you didn't tell me."
"I couldn't tell you," he said, stepping forward. "You wouldn't have believed me. You'd have fought me. Maybe tried to finish the job."
"You don't know what I would've done."
His gaze locked with hers. "I know what you're doing now. You're still here."
She hated that he was right.
Hated it more that he wasn't gloating about it.
"I don't do betrayal well," she muttered. "Trust was never something I handed out freely."
"I'm not asking for it."
She laughed again, sharp. "No, Cade. You're just standing there shirtless and broody in a blood-soaked cabin after saving my life for the second time and looking at me like you want something."
A long, simmering pause.
"I do," he said, voice like gravel.
Her chest tightened. She stepped toward him, slow and dangerous. "Say it."
His hand twitched at his side.
But he didn't touch her.
Not yet.
"I want you to stop pretending you don't feel it."
Willa's breath caught.
Because she did feel it.
The pull.
The hunger.
The part of her that screamed run clashed violently with the one whispering stay.
She stepped in close. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What I feel? Is complicated. It's dangerous. And it sure as hell doesn't change the fact that I was supposed to drag your ass in for execution."
Cade's lips brushed hers—not a kiss. Just heat. Pressure.
A promise.
"I'm not asking you to love me, Bloodhound," he murmured. "I'm asking you to survive with me."
She didn't kiss him.
But she didn't move away either.
And that said everything.
The moment stretched between them like a drawn wire.
Cade's breath was warm on her lips. His hands hovered at her hips but didn't close the gap. Not yet. Not unless she gave him permission.
And Willa—
Willa wanted to. Gods help her, she wanted to forget everything: the lies, the betrayal, the bounty with her name on it. She wanted to drown in heat and skin and the sharp edges of the man in front of her.
But she couldn't.
She drew back half an inch. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to keep control.
"We do this now," she murmured, "we blur the line. And I need that line clear."
Cade's jaw tensed, but he nodded once, the ghost of disappointment shadowing his golden eyes. Not frustration—just that same haunting restraint he always gave her.
"Understood," he said, voice thick as smoke.
He stepped back.
But the tension didn't break.
It snapped taut between them—hot and aching and breathless. She could still feel the heat of his body like it had branded her skin.
"Damn it," she whispered.
Willa turned away to grab her gear, pretending like her hands weren't shaking. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of her knife, but she didn't feel steel. She felt him.
She heard him shift behind her. Not away. Closer.
"You should pack," he said finally, voice low, rough. "Roman's contact has a place a few miles out. Safehouse in the mountains."
"Can't imagine he's got a luxury suite waiting."
"No," Cade smirked faintly. "Just four walls, no Wi-Fi, and maybe a haunted pantry."
"Sounds charming."
She bent to scoop her bag, and when she straightened, he was right there—barely a breath between them.
"You never answered me," he said.
Her heart kicked hard. "About what?"
"Why you froze up back there. When that thing nearly gutted me." His voice dipped. "You looked scared. Not for yourself."
"I don't—" she started, then stopped. "It caught me off guard."
He reached out—slowly—and brushed a dirt-smudged strand of hair from her cheek. The backs of his fingers lingered, just enough to set every nerve on fire.
"It wasn't just adrenaline, Willa. I felt it."
Her lips parted. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?"
Then his hand moved to her neck, rough fingertips skimming down to her collarbone—stopping just at the edge of her tank top. Her skin flared under his touch. Her entire body leaned toward his.
"This is a bad idea," she whispered, but her breath hitched.
He dipped his head, lips brushing the curve of her jaw. "Maybe."
"You're still a fugitive," she said, not moving.
"You're still here."
His mouth slanted toward hers, slow, deliberate. Their lips hovered a breath apart, everything in her screaming to close that space.
She felt it building—that wild, magnetic pull that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with him.
Then—
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
Three pounding slams on the cabin door.
They jerked apart like guilty teenagers.
Willa swore under her breath and grabbed a blade.
Cade muttered, "You've gotta be kidding me," already stepping toward the door.
Both drew weapons automatically, the air still electric with the kiss that almost happened.
He sniffed once, shoulders relaxing just slightly.
"Not a council hound."
"No scent?" she asked.
"No hostile scent."
He cracked the door open.
And there stood a woman in her late thirties, pine needles in her curls, a ranger's coat slung casually over her shoulder, and a look like she hadn't been impressed with anything since 2007.
"Tell me this is the infamous Bloodhound and not just some incredibly well-armed mountain beauty," she said dryly.
Willa blinked, lowering her blade.
Cade sighed. "Willa, meet Sadie."
"Let me guess," Willa deadpanned. "Another friend with a death wish?"
"Friend, fixer, smuggler, ex-council field op," Sadie replied coolly. "And your ride out of here."