I tried to reply, but my throat went tight.
He leaned down, brushed his lips against my forehead. “I want to claim you, Parker. Want to give you my mark, my knot. But I… I just can’t. Not yet.”
I rolled onto my side, facing him, and let my hand rest on his chest, right over his heart. “You don’t owe me anything.”
He looked at me, really looked, and I saw the wolf come up behind his eyes—hungry, wild, and finally, finally, mine.
“Fuck Wren. It’s not about owing you. Don’t you feel it? You’re my mate,” he said, voice rough as broken glass. “You’re mine. I know it as much as I know anything.”
My heart stuttered, then restarted at double-time.
“Tell me you’ve felt it,” he said, barely above a whisper.
I nodded, unable to trustmy voice.
“Say it,” he said, his breath fanning over my lips.
“I know it’s true, and I understand.” I said. “I want it. I want your mark. I also understand that it’s too soon to make such a big move. We’ve only been back in each other’s lives for a few days, really. It doesn’t matter that we’ve known each other forever. And I’m starting with a deficit the size of Texas. I know I have to earn your trust. I hate it has to be like this. That Imadeit like this. But I swear I’ll make you proud of me. Prove myself to you and Bronc and the pack.”
The weight of the day pressed against my ribs, but Wrecker’s hands—rough and steady—anchored me. His thumb brushed the curve of my cheekbone, tracing the tears I hadn’t realized I’d shed.
“You’re not alone in this,” he said, voice roughened by emotion, yet softer than I’d ever heard it. “Not anymore. Every step you take, I’m taking it with you. Greenbriar’s days are numbered, Parker. We’ll burn their pack to the ground, together.” His palm settled over my racing heart, as if he could imprint the promise straight into my pulse. “But when the ash settles… we can start to build something better. Something ours.”
A shuddering breath escaped me. His words weren’t just vows—they were a lifeline. “And after?” I whispered, the question trembling between us.
Wrecker’s smile was a slow, dangerous thing, edged with tenderness. “After?” He leaned in, his lips grazing my temple, lingering like a sealed oath. “There’ll be time. Time for me to claim you properly. To make sure the whole damned world knows you’re mine.”
The truth of it thrummed in my veins, fierce and sure. For the first time, the future didn’t feel like a shadow—it felt like a dawn waiting to break. I pressed my forehead to his, our breaths mingling. “Together,” I echoed.
“Now.” He got up and held out his hand for me. “I think you have a puppy dog who’d probably like to be fed.”
I grabbed his hand and pulled myself out of bed. “Fuck! I’m a terrible dog mom! I should have brought him with me, but I didn’t know I’d be here so long!”
“Hey, calm down, Wren. It’s not as late as you think. It’s not even 5:00.”
That was a relief. That was usually when he ate. Dinner would only be a little late.
I raced up the stairs and grabbed my bag then headed for the door. I gave him a kiss as I headed for my car. “Thank for today, Eli. It was amazing.”
“Call me as soon as you get home.”
Wow, I guess someone gave two shits about me, after all.
Chapter 12
Wrecker
The war room at Iron Valor’s clubhouse always stank of old sweat and machine oil, even after Juliet went on one of her cleaning frenzies. It was after hours, the kind of night that crept in through the cinderblock, making the skin between your fingers go numb. The battered conference table had been in service since before I patched in. It was held together by more blood than screws. Bronc stood at the head, sleeves rolled up, a legal pad under his elbow and a marker in his hand. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and the stubble made him look more tired than tough.
We were down to business. Arsenal and Doc flanked the Alpha, both running on fumes and black coffee. Gunner was missing, but he’d been on patrol for two days straight, so he’d turn up at some point. I took my seat at the far end, fingers drumming the lacquered pine. Papa sat in his usual spot nursing a cup of coffee. The lights flickered overhead, a strobe that turned every movement into a threat.
“First order,” Bronc said, voice gravel. “Toy run goes Christmas Day. Route’s clear except for the Dairyville bypass. Arsenal, you got the east side?”
Arsenal grunted affirmative, eyes never leaving the tactical display mapped on the far wall. The black pinhead showed every street in our territory. The bypass blinked yellow. “I’ll run the advance with Papa,” he said. “Two units, unmarked. If Greenbriar shows, we’ll cut ‘em at the rail crossing.”
Doc’s knuckles rapped the tabletop in that dry, precise way he had. “Medical’s tight. I restocked the kits myself. Juliet’s team is running the warming tent, but there’s some kind of norovirus at the elementary, so I doubled gloves and brought in bleach wipes. No cross-contamination this year.”
“We got toy collection going strong.” Big Papa’s face lit up. He loved this shit. “We are full to overflowing. More toys this year than ever.”
