Keyed access. No press. No cameras.
Just me.
And her.
The second the penthouse door opened, I knew she was here.
Lights were dim. The air smelled like her perfume—faint and floral, already clinging to the bones of this place like it belonged.
I stepped in, slow and silent, and turned the corner toward the living room.
There she was.
Kennedy. Curled up on the couch, her dress wrinkled, makeup smudged like she’d fought sleep and lost. One leg tucked under her, lips slightly parted, breath soft and steady.
Peaceful. Fragile. Unaware she’d just surrendered everything.
My eyes dropped to her hand.
Bare.
No ring.
Still on the coffee table.
I exhaled slowly. Not a sigh—a smirk in my breath.
Stubborn thing.
I walked past her without a sound, muscles still aching from the cage match, blood crusted under my fingernails, adrenaline nowhere near gone.
Paused by the back of the couch, watching her sleep like a predator studying prey that had almost escaped.
Almost.
I didn’t touch her. Didn’t wake her.
Just let her rest. Let her think she still had choices.
She’d wear the ring.
Not tonight.
Maybe not even tomorrow.
But soon.
Because she was already in my home.
And once you’re inside the wolf’s den, sweetheart—you don’t leave without the collar.
Chapter 7
Kennedy
I woke up on Nick’s couch, my neck stiff and my makeup smudged. My heart pounded as I blinked into the dim light filtering through the penthouse windows. For a moment, confusion wrapped around me like a blanket.
Then it all rushed back—the bar, the whiskey, the way he had leaned in closer than anyone ever dared before. The thrill of rebellion had tasted so sweet, but now? Now it felt heavy in my stomach.
