Page 93 of Knotting With A Stranger

I hit him with everything I have, driving him backward into the wall hard enough to leave a body-shaped dent in the plaster. The poker clatters to the floor as Thor scrabbles away, teeth still bared.

Before I can follow up, something slams into the back of my head—a sucker punch from the second intruder and my knees completely give out. The room doesn’t just tilt; it violently spinsas I crash to the floor. Darkness floods in from the edges, nearly swallowing my vision entirely. I try to push myself up, but my arms tremble and collapse beneath me. My head thumps with such blinding pain that even keeping my eyes open feels impossible.

“We gotta get out of here. Now!” the second man shouts from somewhere above me.

“Not without what we came for,” Travis snarls back. “The map’s right there, under the glass.”

“Are you insane? I hear someone moving around upstairs!”

I manage to roll onto my side, the floorboards swimming beneath me. Through the haze, I see Travis lurching across the room, clearly injured from our fight.

“Then help me, you idiot!” Travis grabs something heavy—looks like a bookend—and swings it down hard. The shattering glass sounds like an explosion in my skull.

“Got it!” Travis shouts, snatching up what must be the map. “Move!”

I force myself onto my hands and knees, but the room spins so brutally, I nearly vomit. Each attempt to stand sends fresh waves of agony through my head.

“James!” Hunter’s voice seems to come from miles away.

By the time I finally stagger to my feet, I careen into the wall, using it to hold myself upright as I stumble after the thieves. I bounce from one wall to another, barely maintaining consciousness as I follow the sounds of their retreat.

I reach the back door just as Hunter and Archer thunder down the last few stairs. They rush to the doorway where I’m leaning heavily against the frame, their arms steadying me as we watch Travis and his partner mount a sleek, black snowmobile.

The strange silence hits me immediately. The howling wind has stopped completely. Outside, the world has transformed—pristine, untouched snow stretches out under a clearingsky, almost peaceful in its stillness. The snowmobile’s engine shatters that peace somewhere in the yard filled with trees, its headlight cutting through the calm darkness as they tear away from the cabin.

Hunter darts out there with Archer close behind, both in boxers only, but Travis and his muscle head are already zipping away on the path they carved.

“What the fuck?!” Hunter’s voice booms as they march back inside.

“James, Jesus fucking Christ,” Archer lowers his weapon, rushing forward to help me. “What happened?”

I let him guide me to a chair in the kitchen, wincing at the headache, the split lip, bruised jaw, possible concussion, and definite bruising along my back and ribs.

“Your fucking cousin,” I spit at Hunter, tasting blood again. “Travis. He and some other asshole broke in. After the map. Thor attacked Travis, and I took on the other one.”

Hunter’s face darkens with fury, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Travis was here? In my house?” He immediately drops to a knee beside Thor at his side, checking him over with gentle hands. “Did they hurt you, boy? Did they fucking touch you?”

“He fought like hell. Nearly took a chunk out of Travis before the bastard grabbed a poker. Then I shoved the asshole into the wall to protect Thor.”

Hunter’s head snaps up, his expression murderous. “He tried to hit my dog? I’ll fucking kill him.”

I nod. “But Travis was in the study, looking at the map when I came down,” I explain, accepting the ice pack Archer presses into my hand. “Had a partner with him—big guy, knew how to fight. They took the map and ran when they heard you coming.”

Hunter rises to his feet and stalks to the front of the house again. “Fuck!” His fist slams into the wall.

“They’re long gone now,” Archer reports, returning to the kitchen. His breath comes in short bursts, suggesting he’d run all the way around the property. Ice crystals cling to his golden-brown hair, melting slowly in the kitchen’s warmth. “But their snowmobile tracks are still perfectly visible, heading east. The fresh powder makes them easy to follow, and it looks like the storm might be over.”

“I’m going after them,” Hunter interrupts, a deadly calm settling over his features. His ice-blue eyes have gone flat and cold, reminding me of a predator assessing its prey. His jaw tightens. “Nobody breaks into my home. Nobody threatens my pack.”

“I’m coming with you,” I say immediately, pushing myself to stand straighter despite the room’s persistent sway. My head hurts, a reminder of Travis’ sucker punch. Blood trickles from my split lip, metallic and warm on my tongue. “Those bastards didn’t just break in—they attacked me and Thor. They got their hands on your grandfather’s map. This is personal now.”

Thor woofs softly, pressing his weight against Hunter’s leg. He reaches down, fingers threading through his thick fur as if examining him more closely, seeming to find no injuries beneath his dense coat.

“You did good, Thor,” I tell him. “Saved my ass when I needed it. Good boy.” The malamute’s tail wags once in acknowledgment.

A small noise from the doorway draws all our attention at once. The sound—a soft, sharp intake of breath—cuts through the tension like a knife.

Lily stands there, drowning in what looks like one of my shirts, the dark fabric hanging nearly to her knees and making her appear even smaller, more vulnerable. Her wild curls form a tangled halo around her face, catching the kitchen light in strands of dark brown and caramel. Her golden-brown eyeswiden as they take in the scene—the dented wall in the hallway, the scattered furniture, the blood on my face, the broken glass from the display case.

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