Lying on top of a brunette, his hands roaming her sweat-lit skin. His mouth at her throat. The camera lingers, the angle intimate enough to make my stomach twist.
He notices my silence immediately.
“It’s just acting, baby,” he says softly.
But I can’t tear my eyes away. My heart hammers in my chest, breath catching. The pill I took earlier feels heavy in my stomach, rising.
Thismust be what jealousy feels like. A slow, burning ache that has nothing to do with reason—and everything to do with wanting someone so much, it terrifies you.
Trey is beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him even without touching…but my eyes are glued to the television, to the version of him that doesn’t belong to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his jaw tighten. Then, without a word, he sinks onto the sofa and pulls me with him, guiding me gently until I’m settled across his lap. His palm slides up my thigh, fingers tracing through the denim. Each squeeze is deliberate. A reminder.
He’s here. With me.
The video ends, rolling into another. This time it’s a live performance—guitars screaming, lights flashing, the crowd a sea of raised hands. The ache in my chest eases, replaced by something else entirely when Trey’s fingers lace through mine. I exhale and let myself lean back against him, my head finding that perfect spot beneath his chin. His breath grazes my neck, and then his lips follow—just a soft kiss that sends a shiver spiraling down my spine.
“So…” Logan’s voice cuts through the music, dry and amused. “How’d Phil take the news?”
Trey laughs, that low, rough sound that always seems to settle in my stomach.
“I used my wife as a distraction. He was mid-rant, full vein-popping fury…and then he just… stopped when he saw her.”
The room breaks into laughter. Even I can’t help it, turning just enough to meet his grin.
“You threw me to the wolves.” I tease, giving his chest a light smack.
“Baby,” he murmurs near my ear, “youarethe wolf.”
The laughter’s still echoing when a sharp crackle bursts from the wall.
“Mr. Baker,” a calm, clipped voice says over the intercom. “Car approaching the front of the house. Delivery.”
Every head in the room swivels toward the speaker.
Chace’s grin is immediate.
“Fuck! I want to see this!” He’s already halfway to the door, practically bouncing. “Guys, wait until you see…” He dissolves into a snigger, waving for us to follow. Trey groans, dragging a hand down his face.
“What the hell did Chace do now?”
By the time we reach the front door, a matte-black SUV is already idling in the driveway, another one pulling up behind it. A man steps out—tall, lean, all military precision. His uniform is dark green, sleeves rolled, forearms corded with muscle. The kind of man who looks like he’s seen too much and still stands straighter than anyone else.
“Mr. Baker,” he says, offering a firm nod. “I’m Captain Dune. I’ve got your delivery from Mr. Ryder.” Trey squints.
“Delivery?”
The back doors of the SUV open with a hydraulic hiss. Two figures leap down—silent, fluid, lethal grace wrapped in fur. The first its coat black and tan, chest deep and eyes sharp amber. There are two of them, wolves or dogs… I couldn’t really tell. The second, a leaner female, darker in coloring, her stance more measured but every muscle coiled tight. Both wear tactical harnesses, patches stitched with their names in bold white: KLAUSE and ARTEMIS.
They don’t bark. They don’t move. They juststare—heads slightly tilted, eyes fixed, studying each of us in turn like they’re cataloguing threats.
“Holy shit,” Sam breathes. “Should I get them a dog treat or salute them? What the fuck, Chace.”
Chace’s grin is pure chaos.
“Aren’t they beautiful? Meet your new bodyguards, lovebirds! Wedding gift from yours truly.”
Trey’s brows lift so high they nearly hit his hairline.
