Tyler’s truck door slammed below. Combat boots took the stairs two at a time.
“Pop?” Tyler’s voice hadn’t cracked since sixteen, but the kid still said ‘sir’ like it owed him money. “Guard said you’re up here with some…”
The door flew open. My boy filled the frame like a younger clone—same stubborn jaw, same tactical stance. Until his gaze landed on Juliet.
Green cotton pooled at her feet where she’d grabbed my shirt. My scent was all over her. Tyler’s nostrils flared.
“Christ.” His rucksack hit the floor. “She’s half your age.”
“Twenty-five,” Juliet snapped.
“Exactly.” Tyler turned that sniper’s stare on me. “Mom was thirty when you split. This one's barely legal?”
I stepped between them. “Stand down.”
“She human?”
“Enough.”
“Enough what? Enough shifter to smell your rut? Or enough trouble when her family comes sniffing?” Tyler edged closer. Bronze Star gleaming. “You told me never to mix business and pussy.”
Juliet moved fast. Too fast. Beyond human-fast. She snatched the photo of Iris Ashbourne off the table and slapped it against Tyler’s chest. “Business? That’s my great-grandma on the back of her pack’s alpha. Is she shifter enough for you? I was pack before you swam in your daddy’s balls.”
Silence.
Tyler studied the picture. The grin spreading across his face chilled worse than any insurgent’s glare. “Oh, this is rich. Pop finally gets his dick wet, and it’s with the kin of a ghost.”
I had him against the fridge before the last syllable. Crushed apple magnets raining down. “Apologize.”
“Make me.”
His knee came up. I twisted. Sheet metal dented under his skull. Juliet’s protest died when Tyler laughed.
“Still quick for an old man.” He didn’t struggle. Smart kid. “She know you blacked out three states hunting my mom’s trail? That you nearly torched the club over some cheating woman’s choices?”
Juliet went rigid. Right on cue.
Tyler’s smile died. “How many years you gonna outlive her? She’ll wither while your supernatural body ages at a rate less than half the speed of hers. You gonna just set her aside when she’s old and gray?”
“Out.” I pointed downstairs. “We’ll talk after patrols.”
He saluted Juliet, mocking. “Welcome to the freak show, sweetheart. Try not to drown in the Kool-Aid.”
The door slammed. Water dripped. Juliet stared at the dented fridge.
“I should…” she gestured weakly. “The mess…”
“Leave it.”
“But—”
My hands framed her face. Still damp. Still human-warm. “You okay?”
Her laugh shook. “He’s right. I don’t know what I’m getting into.”
“Tyler doesn’t hate you. He hates anyone who makes me weak.”
“Do I?”
