Page 115 of Pack Fever

The depth of what I feel for Danica, the gratitude, the burgeoning love, is overwhelming. And as we sit in the dim room, holding each other, I make a silent vow that when we get out of here—and we fucking will—I will make sure she’s mine, and the whole damn world will find out about us.

I don’t give a fuck what anyone, including a music company, thinks anymore.

What we have together should be celebrated, not hidden in the shadows.

“I’m sorry,” I finally admit, my chest squeezing. “For pushing you away, for being an asshole to you. You didn’t deserve that.” I lift her hand and kiss her fingers, one at a time, holding her gaze, desperate for her response.

Her expression turns serious, a storm of emotions passing through her eyes as she takes a deep, heavy breath. The room feels charged with the weight of my apology, every sound amplified in the tense silence.

“I don’t hate you for it,” she says softly, her voice steady. “I never did. I just waited for you to finally come to your senses.” There’s a smirk playing on her lips, a glimmer of the Danica I’ve come to admire.

In a moment of impulse, I lean in, closing the distance, our breaths heavy, in rhythm. I whisper, “You’re incredible,” the words barely escape my lips as I drown on the inside at the raw emotions building up inside me. I’m not a man to wear his heart on his sleeve. I keep it bottled up deep inside. It’s safe there, and no one can hurt me.

But around Danica, opening up feels easy, natural.

“I know,” she shrugs, a playful taunt in her gesture, but her gaze is tender, understanding. Then, her attention drops to my collarbone, and her fingers lightly trace the outline of the raven tattoo etched into my skin. “So, what’s the deal with the raven tat on your chest?” she asks while my focus is on the gentleness of her touch.

“It’s... it represents a part of me,” I start, choosing my words carefully. “The raven, it’s a symbol of change. I got it at a time in my life when I felt lost, when I needed to remind myself that change is possible, when I tried ending it all.” I pause, taking a deep inhale to steady myself, to not let the past emotions suffocate me. “The fact that I somehow survived the pain, the darkness, I got a tat of a raven, which I read is known in mythology as a messenger. And to me, that means my raven carries my secrets, my past, my transformation from pain to strength. I sound stupid when I say it aloud, but I used it a lot to think of myself as navigating through the darkest times.”

“God, that’s not stupid. It’s inspirational. Beautiful. Heart-wrenching,” she breathes out, her words washing over me. The admiration in her eyes feels surreal, as if I’m seeing myself through her perspective for the first time.

Here we are, in the least likely of places, and I’m pouring my damn soul out, yet it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Having Danica press up against me, not shying away but instead seeking closeness, is intoxicating. The warmth of her body and the steadiness of her gaze draw me to her intensely.

It’s also a wake-up call that I can’t fuck this up. Getting her out of here is the priority… even at my own cost.

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

SETH

Parked a cautious distance from the target, Jasper and I survey the house that the tracker has led us to—a decrepit home with boarded-up windows standing out against the backdrop of similarly run-down homes. The only sign of recent activity is a black van parked out front, its windows tinted to midnight darkness. The area is unsettlingly quiet, the kind of quiet that speaks of the perfect place to hide bodies.

“No way in hell is this Nexus,” Jasper hisses, his words a low rumble of contained fury.

He leans in closer to me to peer out my car window while we assess the situation. The neighborhood feels deserted, save for a couple of houses farther down the street that show faint signs of life. Across the street from our target stretches out an open field, the faded sign reading Greenwood Sports Field barely visible in the dim light.

“Agreed,” I answer, my mind racing with anticipation. “We gotta be dealing with someone else… someone who’s been tracking us for a while… or, more specifically, searching for Danica.” The thought sends a chill down my arms as I remember the silver SUV waiting near her mom’s place that chased after us.

Jasper’s response comes in the form of a low grunt, his shoulders curling forward like he’s about to crash through the window and madly sprint to the house to fetch Danica.

“I’m ready to break their fucking faces,” he growls, the promise of violence simmering just beneath the surface.

Yet we remain still… for now. Our gazes fixed on the house when suddenly, another van pulls up. Six men disembark, their movements swift and purposeful, and despite their attempts to conceal them, the outlines of guns are visible against their sides as they hurry in through the front door. The sight tightens the knot of dread in my stomach.

“Fuckers,” Jasper murmurs. “I can take on three, but I knew we should have brought our guns on tour for protection.”

“Fuck that,” I counter, my voice hard with resolve. “We’re not getting into a full-out war. We won’t win, and I won’t risk Danica and Reed getting hurt. We need another way.”

The question hangs heavy in the air between us.

“You think she’s in there?” he asks.

“I have no doubts,” I answer fast, my gaze dropping to the glowing dot on my tracker app.

“So, what’s our plan, then? Storm in there? Please tell me we’re going to spill blood.” Jasper’s voice is laced with fury, the idea of a frontal assault clearly his preferred option. He’s never been one to shy away from fights, bulldozing into anyone who stands in his way. I know he gets satisfaction from it, and I’m not one to stand in his way, but at times like these, some preparation will save his ass.

---