Page 20 of Pack Obsession

11:23 p.m. glows on the clock by the bed, so I head out. The hallway beyond my door is quiet except for the faint sound of a television somewhere down the hall. The rug muffles my bare feet as I creep toward the stairs, curiosity making me peek down other corridors. The place is massive, with hallways branching off like a luxury maze.

Artwork lines the walls—not the generic prints you’d expect in a safehouse, but pieces that look like they belong in a gallery. One catches my eye—a storm-tossed ocean at night, waves like black glass under a blood-red moon. Something about it pulls at me, makes me want to reach out and touch the textured surface, but I move past it to where my kitchen light draws me.

There’s no one else down here. The massive fridge hums softly as I open it, scanning the contents. Containers of leftovers,various drinks, more food than three guys should reasonably need... ah. There in the back—string cheese and hummus. Real food.

The pantry yields more treasures—crackers, dried mango, even those expensive protein bars my brother used to splurge on when he could afford them. My throat tightens, thinking of him. Is he worried? Does he think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere?

As long as we’re under the same sky,Case,we’re together.His words echo in my memory. I blink back sudden tears and focus on gathering supplies, knowing I will see him again, along with my three friends, praying they are safe.

Arms full of my scavenged treasures, I pause at the massive windows in the main room, peering in closer to see outside. The moonlit yard stretches before me, solar lights dotting the darkness like fallen stars. A shadow moves between them, too precise to be random.

My breath jams in my throat, and I freeze, gawking at the figure.

Logan suddenly appears in one pool of light, moving like a bullet across the lawn before melting back into darkness.

What’s he doing?

I press closer to the glass, curiosity overriding caution. He reappears again, moving like he’s fighting invisible enemies, each strike and dodge quick and sharp.

"Sharing your snack hoard?" a male’s voice comes from behind.

I flinch around, nearly dropping my bounty. Axel leans against the fireplace, all dangerous grace. His hair is deliciously rumpled, that scar through his eyebrow more prominent in the dim light.

"I..." My gaze drops to the protein bar in my hand, the expensive kind with dark chocolate and sea salt. I lift my attention to his quirking lips.

"Good taste. Those are my favorite."

"Oh, sorry, I can–"

"Keep it." He pushes off the stone fireplace, strolling closer. He’s all shoulders and chest and so tall. My mouth’s suddenly dry. "But maybe we can negotiate shared custody?"

Despite everything, a laugh escapes me. "Of the protein bar?"

"And the..." He peers at my collection. "Salt and vinegar chips? Now, I’m definitely not letting you escape with my entire stash."

"Your stash?"

"Who do you think keeps this place supplied with the good stuff?" He gestures toward the stairs. "Come on. Best view of the yard’s from upstairs."

I hesitate, but curiosity wins out. He leads me upstairs, not to the wing where my room is, but to a different corridor. He opens a heavy wooden door, and the inside steals my breath. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books, leather chairs, and a window seat that overlooks the yard and woods down below.

"Wow."

"Rich people and their libraries, right?" Axel drops into the window seat with ease, patting the space beside him. When I hesitate, his lips tug down in a fake frown. "I don’t bite… unless asked nicely."

Heat floods my cheeks, but I settle down at the other end. Below, Logan continues his midnight training, moonlight revealing his movements. With the lights off in the library, it’s easy to spot him down there, the moonlight throwing a silvery hue over us.

"Here." I offer Axel half the protein bar, trying to ignore how my pulse jumps when our fingers brush. "Since I’m stealing your stash."

"Temporary reallocation of resources." His attention catches mine. "Very professional."

"I’m practicing for a life of crime."

"Amateur." But his widening grin has warmth unfurling in my chest. "First rule—never share your stolen goods with the enemy."

"Is that what you are? The enemy?"

His expression shifts, becoming something more serious. "What do you think?"

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