Oli, The Stag. He was quick to grin, quicker with his frustration, and the one whose deep voice thickened when he was inside me.
Tony was The Skull. He had dry humor, a filthy mouth, and was the one who kissed me like he was trying to leave permanent bruises on my soul.
All were ex-military. Brothers long before the uniforms. They’d shared the same foster home, bore the same scars, and had the same loyal determination never to leave anyone behind. They’d started Iron Security five years ago offering high-end protection, hostage-rescue simulations for rich adrenaline junkies, and the occasional “scare the shit out of my spoiled heiress so she appreciates her bodyguards” gig.
They turned down more jobs than they took. Never once crossed the line. Not until Kai’s emaillanded with my author photo and the subject line reading: She needs torememberwhy she writes the dark shit.
Fifty grand. One weekend. Masks. No touching. And they barely lasted before they broke the rules.
On the fourth morning, the plow finally growled its way up the mountain like a reluctant beast. Cell service flickered, going off and on before roaring back to life. My phone vibrated itself off the counter in a series of frantic notifications. Kai’s texts started excited, turned worried, then spiraled into anxiety-filled, caps-locked messages and seventeen missed calls.
I stood there naked except for wearing Oli’s oversized sweater, staring at the screen until the words blurred.
Calder’s hand settled on the back of my neck, thumb stroking the bite mark Tony had left the night before. “Tell her whatever you need to tell her,” he said, voice low. “We’ll be outside.”
They gave me the cabin. The space. The choice. Three sets of eyes on me all steady, patient, and terrifyingly certain.
I dialedon speaker.
Kai answered mid-sob. “Gwen, oh my God, are you?—”
“Stop.” My voice didn’t waver. It came out clean, sharp, forged in the fire of the last several days. “You don’t get to cry. You hired strangers to break into my house and terrorize me.”
Silence, then a shaky inhale. “I hired professionals to scare you. Controlled environment. Immersion therapy?—”
“They did a hell of a lot more than scare me, Kai. They touched me. Fucked me. Owned me. And I begged for every second of it.” A laugh slipped out, clear, bright, and unbreakable. I shouldn’t have laid it all out for her, but I wanted Kai to hear the unadulterated truth of what had transpired. “You wanted to break my writer’s block? Mission accomplished. You also torched about fifty laws, our friendship, and whatever was left of my ability to trust you.”
Dead air was so complete and suffocating I could hear her heartbeat through the phone.
“I’m done,” I said. “After this contract, I’m gone from the imprint. Don’t call. Don’t text. Don’t ever pretend you know what I need again.”
I ended the call.
The cabin door opened before the phone even hit the table. Three silhouettes filled the entryway, snowflakes melting on their clothing, breath fogging in the cold.
I looked at them—really looked—and felt something inside me click into place like the last puzzle piece you didn’t know was missing.
Kai had swept into my life like a hurricane wearing designer shoes, certain she could help me with grand, reckless gestures. She’d meant well. She always meant well. That was the worst part. But good intentions didn’t excuse crossing the line from help to violation and destroying boundaries.
Some doors, once forced open, can never be closed the same way again.
I’d write her into a story eventually… not as the villain but as the cautionary tale. The friend who loved too loudly and learned too late that inspiration can’t be hired, that fear and desire are mine to give not hers to manufacture.
She was a chapter I’d closed with a period so hard it could be felt by the reader.
They closed the door behind them, and I stood, walking up to them because I was drawn to them irrevocably.
“Don’t ever leave,” I said.
Tony’s grin flashed. “Never, baby.”
Calder’s hand found mine. Oli’s arm slid around my waist. And just like that, the storm was over… and the real story began.
EPILOGUE
Six months later
The new book rocketed to #1 on every list on release day. Garland and Sin. The dedication? Specific. Cryptic.
