Page 31 of The Shield
With that, he stepped off the porch, disappearing around the corner into the downpour, leaving me with more questions than answers.
My blood surged, a mix of anger and instinct kicking in. Caleb and Jacob—here?
I shut the door, locking it behind me, and turned back to the bedroom. Natalie was still asleep, her face peaceful in the dim light. I hated to wake her, but I couldn’t stay.
I knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "Natalie," I said softly, my voice rough with the shift. "I’ve got to go. Work needs me. I’ll be back—if you’ll have me."
Her eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile curving her lips as she reached for me, pulling me close. "I’ll have you for dessert," she murmured, her voice laced with warmth and promise.
I tried to play along, leaning in to kiss her, but the spell was broken for me, the messenger’s words cutting through the intimacy like a blade. I returned her kiss, lingering a moment, then pulled back, gathering my clothes and boots with quick, deliberate movements.
"I’ll be back," I repeated, more to convince myself than her, and slipped out the door.
The rain hit hard as I ran to the truck, the coolness soaking through my shirt before I even reached the driver’s side. I sped toward Dominion Hall, the wipers slashing at the deluge, traffic thinning as the storm drove people indoors. The gates loomed ahead, and I jabbed at the keypad. They opened too slowly for my liking, the delay fueling the fire in my chest. A staff member met me at the entrance, ushering me inside, my boots leaving wet prints on the polished floor as I dripped onto the stone.
Atlas walked into the room, his presence filling the space with that familiar weight. His brow furrowed slightly, a rare crack in his composure, but his greeting was kind. "Ethan. Good to see you. What brings you back so soon?"
I didn’t waste time, stepping closer, my voice low but edged with tension. "Have I been followed? What kind of bullshit is this?" The words spilled out, raw and direct, the anger I’d held in check boiling over.
He raised a hand, his expression shifting to calm, though his eyes sharpened. "Easy, Ethan. That’s not the case. No one here’s had you tailed."
"Then who sent that guy to Natalie Kennedy’s door?" I pressed, my fists clenching at my sides. "Gray suit, nondescript, could vanish in a crowd. Showed up, told me to come here, mentioned my brothers."
Atlas’s eyes went cold, a stillness settling over him that made me pause. I’d seen that look before—in men who’d faced worse than me, who calculated before they moved.
"No one from Dominion Hall sent him," he said, his voice steady but firm. "I’d have called if we needed you. What did he say, exactly?"
I recounted it, the details falling into place as I spoke—the greeting by name, the summons, the casual shrug about the personal invite, the mention of Caleb and Jacob.
Atlas listened, his face unreadable, but I could tell he was processing, turning it over in his mind.
When I finished, he didn’t speak at first, the silence stretching thin between us.
Finally, he exhaled, his voice low. "It’s time to meet the others."
"Others?" I asked, confusion cutting through my anger. "What others?"
"My brothers," he said, a nod accompanying the words, his breath releasing like he’d been holding it. "All six of them." I blinked, the number hitting me sideways. "You have six brothers, too?" I blurted, the words clumsy in my mouth.
He nodded again, a faint exhale escaping him, as if the weight of it had shifted. "Come on. This wasn’t how we wanted things to go, but it seems there’s a force at hand who very much wants every card flipped over on the table."
His gaze held mine, steady and serious, and the chapter hung there, poised on the edge of something I couldn’t yet see.
13
NATALIE
Iwoke to rain and the shape of his hand still printed on my skin.
Not literally—no finger marks, no bruises. Just a memory pressed into muscle and nerve so thoroughly that when I rolled over, the sheets whispered and my body answered like he’d said my name from the doorway.
The room had gone silver-dark with the storm. The blinds showed thin slats of wet sky. My phone hummed on the nightstand with the jittery cadence of too many notifications.
I lay still for one beat, then two. The afterglow from Ethan wasn’t a glow anymore—it was a new baseline.
I felt different from the inside out—loosened, sharpened, rewired. Multiple orgasms with an actual man had apparently rearranged the furniture in my head. I could barely keep from grinning at nothing. And then I thought of him—not his last name, still a blank on my mental form, just Ethan, dog tags and bear claw and that voice—and the grin turned molten.
Forward only, he’d said.
