Movement in the front seat caught my attention. Another man sat in the passenger seat, turning to look at me over the headrest. He was built like a tank, broad-shouldered and solid, with dark hair and brown eyes that held surprising warmth. Ascar ran up the right side of his face, stark and brutal, but he was smiling.
Another Alpha. I could smell him now too, leather mixing with oak in a combination that made my pulse spike again.
“Hey,” he said, his voice gentler than I expected from someone who looked like he could break a person in half. “I'm Theo. Welcome aboard.”
I said nothing, just pressed myself harder against the door, my fingers finding the handle and gripping it tight.
Kade slid into the seat beside me, though he kept a distance between us, and the car began to move.
I was leaving. Leaving the encampment, the tent, the relative safety of the known for the absolute uncertainty of whatever came next.
I kept my hand on the door handle and didn't let myself look back.
Chapter Six
Jasmine
When we reached the most exquisite high-rise hotel, I walked in, more than aware of the stares of disgust from the guests there. That was until they saw who I was walking with. The stares quickly turned to smiles and greetings.
The elevator moved so smoothly I barely felt it, just a slight pressure in my ears as the numbers climbed higher than I'd ever been. Forty-three floors. I'd watched the display count upward, each number another layer of distance between me and the ground, between me and any possibility of escape.
Kade stood beside me in the elevator, not speaking, just a solid presence that made the enclosed space feel smaller. Theo had stayed in the car, talking on the phone to someone, which meant I was alone with this Alpha in a steel box climbing into the sky. My fingers kept returning to the business card in my pocket, proof this was real and not some elaborate trap my desperate mind had constructed.
The doors opened with a soft chime, revealing a private hallway with only one door. Of course. The penthouse level. Because why would a billionaire CEO share a floor with anyone else?
Kade gestured for me to exit first, and I stepped out on legs that felt unsteady. He moved past me to the door, produced a key card, and the lock clicked open.
“After you,” he said again, pushing the door wide.
I walked through, and my breath caught.
Floor-to-ceiling windows dominated three walls, offering a view of the city that seemed impossible, and unreal. The morning sun poured through the glass, making everything glow with warm amber light that turned the space golden. I could see for miles, could see buildings and streets and the distant curve of the river, all of it spread out like I was standing on top of the world.
I'd never been high enough to see this much sky.
The penthouse itself was nothing like I was expecting. I'd imagined something cold and sterile; all chrome and sharp edges. Instead, the space breathed warmth. Deep cognac leather couches that looked butter-soft sat on a rug in shades of burgundy and gold. Walnut bookshelves lined one wall, filled with actual books, their spines creating a pattern of colors and textures. The lighting was amber, gentle, casting everything in a glow that felt almost intimate.
My worn coat and multiple layers of threadbare clothing stood out like a stain against all this careful beauty. I felt dirty just standing here, like I might contaminate something with my presence.
“This way,” Kade said, moving deeper into the space.
I followed, my steps small and careful on the hardwood floor. My fingers trailed along the back of one couch as I passed, the leather smooth and cool under my touch. Real leather, not the synthetic stuff. This was the kind that probably cost more than most people make in a year.
Everything here cost more than I could imagine. The glass tables, the art on the walls, the way the light fell through thosemassive windows. This was wealth beyond my comprehension, beyond the world I knew.
Kade led me down a hallway, past several closed doors, to a room near the end. He opened it and stepped aside, letting me enter first.
The bedroom was smaller than the main living space but still larger than any room I'd ever called my own. A queen-size bed dominated one wall, covered in white linens that looked impossibly clean. Blankets and cushions were stacked at the foot of the bed in shades of cream and soft gray, more than anyone could need. An open dresser full of clothes stood against another wall, simple dark wood that matched the bed frame. And there, in the corner, was another window, this one offering a view to the east where the morning light was brightest.
“The bathroom is through there,” Kade said, pointing to a door I hadn't noticed. “Towels are stocked. Toiletries are provided. If you need anything else, just ask.”
I turned slowly, taking it in, trying to process that this space was meant for me.
He moved to the bedroom door, placed his hand on the interior handle, and turned it to show me something. A lock. A deadbolt that could only be engaged from inside the room.
“We added it,” he explained, his voice careful and neutral. “To help you feel safe.”
I stared at that lock, at the metal bolt that would slide into place and keep the door closed from the inside. They'd installed it. For me. Before I'd even agreed to come here.
