Hunter snorts softly, his gaze flicking toward our clueless omega. This is why she needs us. She has no self-preservation skills. Sure, she’s fiery and fun to tease, but when it comes to keeping herself safe? Zero stars. Would not recommend.
The mark on her neck tells that story as clearly as the beta trailing her does. She let an alpha claim her, and he’s not herenow. Which means she probably regrets that trust she misplaced. I’d love to get the story behind it, but Graham would throttle me for asking. Although, sometimes Graham’s punishments are as good as the pleasure he doles out.
“Time to go, princess,” Hunter says.
Willow barely has a second to react before he steps forward, plucks her sugary latte from her hands mid-protest, and hands it off to Graham. Then, with almost no effort, he scoops her up as though she weighs nothing—ignoring the truth that she’s a fiery little hellcat we’ve been tasked with protecting.
“Oh my God, put me down!” she shrieks, smacking his back as he strides toward the waiting town car.
Graham doesn’t so much as blink. “Take care of him and meet us back at her place.” He’s already sliding into the front seat before the order fully lands.
I fall into motion, steps tightening, attention narrowing as I cross the street. No room left for anything but the job.
My strides are long, measured, closing the distance before he can peel away from the alley and disappear. He’s good, but I’m better.
He grunts as I shove him against the wall, the stench of rotting trash festering in the narrow space between us. “This is your only warning—stay away from her.”
He barks out a laugh, his eyes tracking the town car as it pulls away from the curb. “Who says?” His gaze flicks back to mine as the car vanishes around the corner. “You?”
A slow, deliberate movement, his hand reaches for the camera around his neck, and before I can react, there’s a click.
“For the memory,” he says, grinning as I slam him harder against the bricks. “Mmm, I do like it rough.”
I lean in, the space shrinking, a steady heat coiling beneath my skin. “If I catch you watching her again, you’ll see just how rough I can get.”
I release him, and he sags against the wall, still grinning as though this is a game.
“Promises, promises,” he sing-songs, his fingers tapping at his camera, already committing the shot to memory.
Another click as I turn away, his laughter trailing behind me. He’s crazier than we anticipated.
Willow needs round-the-clock guarding.
I’ll have to talk to Graham.
I catcha taxi and somehow make it back to the apartment before they do. As they pull up to the curb, I push off the brick wall where I'd been waiting and step forward, just in time to see Hunter pluck Willow from the backseat of the town car.
She yelps in outrage, fists beating against his back, but he just slings her over his shoulder, unfazed.
She’s like a wet, angry kitten—claws out, hissing and spitting in warning. God, she's adorable. I can’t stop the grin tugging at my mouth as I fall into step beside them, Graham bringing up the rear with her abandoned drink still in hand.
The second the elevator doors slide shut behind us, Hunter sets her carefully back on her feet.
Willow stumbles, catching herself on the wall before she spins to face him, wild-eyed and furious.
“Your drink…” Graham says, almost too casually, holding the plastic cup out as though it’s some kind of offering to a pissed-off goddess.
Willow tears her glare off Hunter and trains it on Graham instead.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she snaps. “You can’t bribe me with sweet treats and expect me to forget that your brute of a friend just carried me around as if I’m some clearance itemfrom the produce aisle. I have legs. Two of them. They work just fine, thank you very much.”
Hunter mutters something that sounds suspiciously close to “Could’ve fooled me” under his breath. I cough into my fist to cover a laugh.
The elevator dings, and we step out onto her floor.
The walk to her door is... tense. Willow stalks ahead, arms crossed tightly over her chest, every step radiating fury. The three of us trail behind her, the picture of men walking toward their execution.
When she stops and glares at her door, Graham slides the key into the lock, and pushes the door open. But Willow plants herself in the doorway, blocking the entrance with her small but immovable frame.
