We fell into easier topics after that—Drew’s latest rock climbing adventure, my newest commission, a movie we both wanted to see. For a while, it was like old times, before I’d fled to Seattle with nothing but a scholarship letter and determination to escape.

When we finally said goodbye, the apartment felt emptier than before. I curled up on my futon, surrounded by paintings of shadows with silver eyes, and tried not to think about how much I missed home.

Not home, I reminded myself fiercely.Just a place I used to live.

Sleep came fitfully, dreams filled with running and forests and eyes watching from the shadows. Somewhere in the darkness, I felt a gentle touch against my cheek, the whisper of fingers brushing my hair back from my face. The scent of cedar and rain and something uniquely familiar wrapped around me, making me burrow deeper into my blankets with a contented sigh.

Soon, little fox,a voice murmured, so real I could almost feel the breath against my ear.We’ve waited long enough.

I jerked awake at dawn, heart pounding, the dream already fading. But something felt… different. The air in my apartment carried traces of a scent that didn’t belong—woodsy and masculine and achingly familiar.

“Impossible,” I whispered, sitting up and scanning the room. Everything looked normal. The door was still locked, chain in place. The windows were secured. But something had changed.

I rose on unsteady legs, checking every corner, every possible hiding place. Nothing. No one. Just the lingering sensation that I hadn’t been alone in my dreams—or perhaps not even in my apartment.

By the time I showered and dressed for my morning shift, I’d almost convinced myself it was just another nightmare. Almost.

The morning dawned bright and clear. I dragged myself to Moonlight Brew for the opening shift, yawning as I set up the espresso machine and prepped pastries for the display case.

“You look like hell,” Maya observed as she arrived for her midmorning shift.

“Thanks. It’s my new summer collection—‘Exhaustion Chic.’ Very exclusive,” I quipped, handing a customer their change. “The bags under my eyes are actually designer.”

“More nightmares?” she asked, tying her apron.

I shrugged. “Just the usual. Being chased through the woods by my commitment issues and student loan debt.”

The morning rush kept us busy until eleven, when the café emptied except for a few laptop warriors camped at the tables. I was wiping down the espresso machine when the door chimed, and a familiar prickle ran down my spine.

“I’ll get this one,” Maya said, but I was already turning, some instinct pulling my attention to the entrance.

He filled the doorway like he’d been designed specifically to make normal men feel inadequate. Six foot four of perfectly tailored suit and controlled power, golden-brown hair styled just so, deep blue eyes scanning the café with the focus of a predator.

Cade Sinclair.

My eldest brother—not brother,not brother—looked exactly as I remembered, only somehow more. More powerful. More beautiful. More dangerous.

Our eyes met across the café, and everything inside me went still. My body reacted instantly, a wave of heat washing through me that had nothing to do with the steam wand I’d been cleaning. My heart raced, my mouth went dry, and something deep inside me—something I’d been denying for years—stirred in recognition.

Alpha. Mine.

“No,” I whispered, the word barely audible even to myself. I backed away, bumping into the counter. “Not happening.”

Maya looked between us, confusion clear on her face. “Finn? You know this guy?”

“My brother,” I managed, the word feeling inadequate for the complicated tangle of emotions Cade inspired. “My very busy, important brother who should be running his company three hours away, not stalking me in Seattle.”

“Family emergency,” Cade said smoothly, never taking his eyes off me. “I need to borrow him.”

Something in his tone made my knees weak, a primal part of me wanting to bare my throat and sayyes, anything. I hated that reaction, hated how my body betrayed me every time.

“I’m working,” I said, gripping the counter for support. “My shift ends at four.”

“I’ve already spoken with your manager,” Cade replied, and of course he had. “He was very understanding about the family emergency.”

“Of course he was,” I muttered. “Let me guess—you offered to buy the place?”

Cade’s smile turned sharp. “Only if necessary.”