A shiver crawls down my spine, but I don’t know if it’s fear or something else entirely.
He will never let me go.
I should be scared. I should feel violated, knowing someone was in my space, watching me sleep. But instead, I feel…wanted. And that’s the most twisted part of all.
I exhale sharply, trying to shove the feeling away, but my mind refuses to let me. Because even through the haze, through the tangled mess of emotions flooding my system, I remember more about my heat.
I wasn’t alone.
I squeeze my eyes shut, searching the foggy fragments of my memory. The heat, the pain, the way my body broke apart from the inside out…
Hands. Strong, steady hands. Holding me together. A voice, deep and grounding. A rumble of an alpha purr. Hunter.
I see flashes. Pieces of a puzzle that don’t quite fit yet.
The quiet, unwavering feeling of Graham’s presence. The steady, no-nonsense tone of his voice. The way he said my name, every syllable a promise of safety. The teasing lilt of Carson’s words, the warmth of his fingers brushing my forehead, a fleeting moment of comfort I didn’t understand at the time.
They were here.
They stayed.
The realization unsettles me more than I want to admit. They weren’t just guarding me. They were with me.During my heat, and they didn’t take advantage of me. I begged them, though. How embarrassing.
I swallow hard, my gaze darting to the door as it pushes open slightly.
Graham.
He steps inside, carrying a bottle of water and a package of crackers. His movements are steady, careful, but when his gaze meets mine, relief flickers inside his gray eyes.
“You’re awake,” he says.
I push my hair away from my face, straightening against the headboard and yanking the blankets up over my chest. That’s when I realize; these aren’t the same pajamas I was wearing before.
A fractured memory surfaces. Cool water. Hands steadying me. My clothing clinging to me, soaked and uncomfortable. Pulling my pajamas off without thinking,standing there in nothing but my black lace panties. Graham wrapping me in a soft dry towel to cover me up. Carson, helping my arms through a new top, and lifting my feet to pull on sleep shorts. All while Hunter held me up.
Heat rushes to my face, my fingers tightening on the blanket. Can I sink into my bed and disappear?
I clear my throat, forcing my gaze anywhere but on him. “How long was I out?”
Graham hesitates for half a second. Like he knows exactly what just flashed through my mind.
"Four days," he says finally.
I sit straighter, pulse skipping. Everything is different now.
Graham’s jaw locks the second his gaze lands on my nightstand. He moves with precision, lifting the photo between two fingers. For a breath, his expression holds…flat. But there’s a flicker under it. Something dark. Something that makes my skin prickle.
He turns toward the door. “What’s this? Carson. Hunter. Get in here.”
Footsteps close in fast. In seconds, they’re inside. Hunter’s stare drops to the photo, shoulders going stone-still. Carson lets out a rough exhale, muttering, “Well, that’s fucking great.”
But they’re not just looking at the picture. They’re looking at me.
Hunter folds his arms tight across his chest, tension riding high in every line of him. Carson watches a beat too long, eyes tracking me, checking for injuries. Then he drags in a slow breath and shifts focus back to Graham.
"You think it’s from him?"
I don’t have to ask who they mean. And they aren’t wrong.
