“Or creating a distraction,” Ranger suggested.“If they got in once, they can do it again unless we figure out how they did it.”
The thought had occurred to me as well.I moved to the table, studying the layout of the compound I knew by heart.My cabin sat at the eastern edge, closest to the perimeter fence.Most vulnerable.
“I need to get back,” I said, mind already racing ahead to Callie, alone at my cabin.“She’ll panic if I’m gone too long.”
Beast nodded.“Go.But, Samson --” He paused, his voice dropping slightly.“If this escalates, we may not have a choice about moving her.”
I met his gaze.“She stays with me.”My tone left no room for debate.“I claimed her.That means she’s one of us.”
Beast held my gaze for a long moment before nodding once.“It does.Just make sure it’s worth what might be coming our way.”
I left without another word, my stride lengthening as I headed back toward my cabin.The unmarked sedan was gone when I passed the gate, but the feeling of being watched lingered, prickling between my shoulder blades with every step.
* * *
I approached my cabin with measured steps, scanning the tree line and open spaces between buildings.The compound felt different now, familiar territory transformed by invisible threat.At my door, I paused, listening.Movement inside -- quick, frantic sounds of drawers opening, fabric rustling.My hand went to my weapon as I pushed the door open, but it wasn’t an intruder I found.It was Callie, frantically shoving borrowed clothes into the small backpack Lyssa had brought over.
She froze when the door opened, a borrowed T-shirt clutched in her trembling hands.Her eyes, wide with fear I recognized too well, met mine across the room.For a heartbeat, we remained locked in a tableau -- her poised for flight, me blocking the only exit.
“What are you doing?”I asked, though the answer was painfully obvious.
She looked down at the shirt in her hands, fingers working the fabric with nervous energy.“I should go,” she said, her voice barely carrying across the space between us.“I’m bringing trouble to your door.To everyone here.”
The resignation in her tone cut deeper than I expected.I closed the door behind me, engaging both locks with deliberate movements before crossing the room in three strides.Her shoulders tensed as I approached, but she didn’t back away -- progress of a sort.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I said, keeping my voice quiet but firm.
Her fingers tightened on the shirt, knuckles white with strain.“You don’t understand.There was a letter.People asking questions.Now there’s probably surveillance.”She finally looked up, meeting my gaze with desperate intensity.I wasn’t sure how she knew about the questions, but that wasn’t important right now.“Here’s how it starts.First questions, then pressure.Then people start losing things -- jobs, reputations, freedom.”
I gently took the shirt from her unresisting hands and set it on the table.“He wants to flush you out and get you alone.”
Her breathing quickened, shoulders rising with each inhale.“I’ve seen what happens to people who help me.My friend Melissa lost her job at the bank after she let me stay with her.Pastor Ryan’s wife had her volunteer position at the hospital ‘reassigned’ after she suggested I talk to a counselor in the next county.”
I placed my hands on her shoulders, feeling the fine tremors running through her.Not fever this time -- pure fear.
“Callie,” I said, waiting until her gaze focused on mine.“The Kings aren’t small-town volunteers.We can’t be intimidated by badges or threats.”
She shook her head, frustration flashing through the fear.“You don’t know him.What he’s capable of.”
“And he doesn’t know us,” I countered.“What we’re capable of.Who we’re connected to.”
Something shifted in her expression -- not quite hope, but a fracture in her certainty of defeat.“What if he hurts someone here because of me?”she whispered, voice breaking.“What if he hurts you?”
The vulnerability in the question caught me off guard.Fifteen years in the Kings, and violence had always been a given, a calculated risk.But the way she asked -- as if my safety mattered to her personally -- stirred something I’d thought long buried.
I took her bandaged wrist, my thumb brushing over the gauze where zip ties had cut into flesh.“Let him try,” I said softly.
The simple declaration hung between us.Her gaze searched mine, looking for uncertainty or bravado and finding neither.Just certainty.The Kings protected their own, and I’d claimed her.Simple as it gets.
The shrill ring of my landline shattered the moment.Few people had this number -- Beast, Ranger, a handful of trusted brothers.Not the kind who called without reason.
I released her wrist reluctantly, moving to the kitchen where the ancient wall phone hung.The caller ID displayed an unfamiliar number with the local area code.I hesitated, then hit the speaker button, keeping my eyes on Callie.
“Yeah?”I answered, deliberately curt.
“Good morning,” a smooth, professional voice responded.“I’m looking for Miss Monroe regarding an urgent family matter.”
Callie went perfectly still, color draining from her face as if someone had pulled a plug.She recognized the voice -- I saw it in the absolute terror flooding her eyes, in the way her hand flew to her mouth to stifle any sound.
