"I need you to stay in this room. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes."
"Good." I slide my hands down to her shoulders, squeezing the tension there. "I need to know you’re mine. I need to know that while I’m out there hunting, you’re in here, thinking about me. Only me."
"Tristan..."
I capture her mouth, the kiss a brutal, claiming branding. I don't just kiss her; I occupy her, my tongue shoving deep inside her mouth to own her space. I taste the sharp tang of her fear and the heavy, musk-sweet cream of her arousal.
I grind my hips against her, making sure she feels the hard, thick length of my cock through my jeans, a promise of the deep, thorough stretching I’m going to give her pussy once these bastards are in the ground. I want her dripping for me while I’m out there killing for her.
She moans, her pussy soaking the seat of her jeans as her hands tangle in my hair. I want her to feel every inch of my hardness, to know that the man who is about to go kill for her is the only one who gets to fill her. My hand slides down, my palm heavy over her mound, feeling the clit-throb even through the denim. I’m going to stretch her wide, fill her with my seed until she can’tremember her own name, but first, I have to make the world bleed for looking at her.
She moans, hands tangling in my hair. The pain in her leg fades under the searing heat of contact. My hand slides to the back of her neck, holding her in place. I deepen the kiss, demanding everything. I want to leave a mark. A warning sign. Property of Broken Halos. Property of Tristan Gunnar.
I pull back, resting my forehead against hers. Her lips are swollen, her eyes dazed. The fear is gone, replaced by a hazy focus on me.
"You stay here," I say. The loss of contact hurts. "Shane will be at the door. If anyone other than me or my brothers tries to come in, there’s a Glock taped under the sink. You know how to use a safety?"
"Yes. My dad taught me."
"Good girl." I reach into my boot and pull out my spare tactical knife, pressing the heavy steel handle into her palm. "You keep the Glock under the sink for distance, but if anyone gets close enough to touch you, you gut them with this. Understand?"
She nods, her fingers curling around the hilt, her eyes showing that steel spine I’ve grown to crave.
"I'm locking this from the outside," I command, adjusting my cut and ensuring the leather sits straight over my shoulders. I don’t leave until I hear the heavy steel bolts slide home.
"Understood. Logan’s waiting in the chapel," Shane mutters from his post in the hallway.
I walk down the hallway, the sound of the locks echoing behind me like a promise.Click. Click. Click.
She’s safe.
Now I can destroy everything else.
I push through the double doors into the chapel. The heavy oak table bears the scars of three generations of Gunnars. Logan sits at the head. Austin is to his right. Blake stands by the window. Chase paces the length of the room.
Every head turns.
"She’s locked down." I walk to the map pinned to the wall.
"Good," Logan says. "Now explain how a shooter gets within three hundred yards of my Road Captain’s hideout without triggering a tripwire."
I stare at the map. Contour lines. Ridges. Elevation drops. The blind spots I ignored while watching Alexandria sleep.
"He didn’t cross them," I say, tracing a line on the map. "Eastern ridge. High angle."
"That’s a six-hundred-yard shot," Austin points out. "Through dense pine."
"He wasn’t shooting to kill the brothers." The realization hits hard. "The original shooter on the ridge was a low-level local hire meant to end the problem quickly. Once they realized she had the master drive, the professionals moved in. They didn't want a corpse on the ridge anymore; they wanted the biometric key only she can provide. They herded us toward the compound to trap us."
"So what’s he doing?" Chase asks.
"He flushed us out of the loft. He wanted us here."
Silence descends. If they wanted us all in one place, they plan something loud.
"Photos," Shane’s voice comes over the intercom. "Reviewing the trail cam footage. The guy taking pictures... he’s not alone. Three distinct heat signatures in the woods."
