Page 64 of Pack Obsession

She stands suddenly, stretching, and my mouth dries at the way Nash’s shirt rides up high on her thighs. “I should shower.”

“Go,” I say roughly. “I’ll clean up.”

She pauses in the living room, staring back at me. “Thanks for breakfast, Axel. And... for everything else. For making me feel safe.”

“Always, little thief.”

Her laughter follows her up the stairs, and I find myself smiling as I gather the dishes. The domesticity of it should feel strange, but instead it feels inevitable. Right. Like every fight, every scar, every dark deed led me here—to her.

I’m loading the dishwasher when movement catches my eye through the kitchen window. Just a flash, there and gone, but enough to set off every alarm in my head.

“Fuck.” I move silently to the security panel, checking the perimeter cameras. Nothing obvious, but...

There. Another shadow, moving too purposefully through the trees.

My heart pounds as I grab a kitchen knife.

Something’s wrong. The security system should be screaming right now—every approach is triple-monitored. I reach for my phone, realizing I’d left it upstairs in my room. Fuck!

Movement outside in the woods again, closer now. My mouth goes dry. They’re not even trying to hide anymore. Professionals, not common thugs. The kind who know how to kill a high-end security system without leaving a trace. Going into the pantry, I grab the handgun and slide outside.

Sweat trickles down my back as I check the back door is locked, then dart to the front of the house and slip outside, locking that too behind me. Stepping quickly into the shadows of trees by the house, I rush around the house, taking a wide sweep, keeping low to the shadows. My eyes dart across the tree line, searching…

Another shadow flitting through the woods in the back, attention on the house.

The morning mist clings, every sense on high alert.

I grip my blade in one hand, gun ready in the other as I scan the woods to locate my prey. There – a shadow moves against the shadows again, too deliberate to be natural. Two more figures lurking farther in the distance, splitting up.

Holding position, I lift my gun and aim for the first guy, suppressor on, I take aim and shoot. Hit to the head. He’s down.

Weapons tight, I lower myself and move toward the others amid the dense trees and using the shadows to conceal myself. These guys are professionals and definitely hired by Julian. His guards aren’t this good to sneak up on us.

Then I spot one of the fuckers, dressed in all black, his back to me. I close the distance in complete silence, bare feet finding each solid step through years of practice. Three more steps and?—

He spins faster than anyone that size should be able to move, boot swinging toward my hand. The gun goes flying but I'm already diving forward, blade leading. He blocks with his forearm and I feel the knife bite, but not deep enough.

We crash together in a controlled frenzy of strikes. He's good – really good – but I've got rage on my side. His fist grazes my jaw as I duck under another strike. I drive my shoulder into his chest, grunting, using his weight against him. We go down hard.

But he only laughs and tries to roll but I've got the angle. My blade finds his thigh, sinking deep where I know it'll hurt. He lets out a strangled howl as he drops to the ground.

A twig snaps behind me.

Another figure emerges from the tree line. I twist fully toward them, bringing the blade up.

The intruder's gun comes up too, early morning sun glinting off the silencer through the canopy gaps. But I'm already in motion, low and fast. The blade in my hand feels alive, eager. He gets one shot off—suppressed crack barely louder than a whisper—but I'm not where he expected. The bullet kicks up pine needles behind me as I drive forward.

My free hand locks around his gun wrist, torquing it outward while I slam the blade up under his ribs. His body armor catches the first thrust, but I know the weak spots. I twist the knife, finding the gap beneath the plate carrier, and drive it home. He makes a wet, surprised sound behind his balaclava. The gun drops from his fingers as I wrench my blade free. He crumples, and I'm already moving to secure the weapon, scanning the sun-dappled treeline for any more surprises.

I'm already turning when something sharp slams into the side of my neck fast and pinches my skin.

Fuck!

I reach up and yank the dart from my neck. My head's already swimming – whatever they used, it's professional grade,fast-acting. The woods blur at the edges of my vision, trees doubling and swaying where they shouldn't.

They fold like wet paper, my knife hitting the ground from suddenly useless fingers.

“You fuckers,” I snarl as the world tilts. “Touch her and I’ll kill every last one of you.”

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