Silence settled over the room before Buck said quietly, “You don’t belong to anybody you don’t choose.” The words hit her hard because underneath all the possessiveness, underneath the tension and heat and dangerous attraction, there was respect.
Ghost nodded once beside her. “Nobody’s taking your choices away, pretty thing.” Emotion tightened unexpectedly in her chest. These men shouldn’t have felt safe, but they did. Buck’s hand moved before she expected it to, rough fingers brushing lightly against hers on top of the blanket. He was silently asking her a question—not making a demand. Wren looked at their hands touching, and then, slowly, she turned her palm over beneath his. Buck inhaled sharply, and Ghost went completely still beside her. The intimacy of something so small nearly overwhelmed her.
Buck’s fingers curled carefully around hers like he couldn’t quite believe she was letting him touch her, and Wren’s heart pounded harder. Ghost watched both of them quietly before a soft smile crossed his face, and suddenly, Wren understood something important. This wasn’t just physical for either of them. Whatever existed between Buck and Ghost ran deep. Loyalty and tension and buried feelings were woven so tightly together that she wasn’t sure where friendship ended and love began. And somehow, they were making room for her inside it.The realization scared her, but it also made something warm bloom inside her chest.
A loud bang echoed downstairs suddenly, and all three of them reacted instantly. Buck was off the bed in a second, gun already in his hand, while Ghost moved toward the door with terrifying speed. The atmosphere in the room shifted from soft intimacy to pure danger immediately. Wren’s breath caught when she heard voices shouting downstairs, followed by rapid footsteps pounding up the hallway. Buck positioned himself in front of her automatically—protective and possessive. The bedroom door flew open hard enough to slam against the wall, and Mason stood there breathing heavily, panic written all over his face.
“Buck,” he said roughly. “We got a problem.”
Buck’s voice went deadly calm. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Mason swallowed hard. “One of the outer watch posts just went dark.”
Buck
The second Mason said the watch post went dark; Buck’s entire body shifted into combat mode. Every soft thought about Wren vanished beneath cold instinct. “Which post?” he barked.
“East ridge,” Mason answered quickly, breathing hard. “Radio cut out mid-check-in.”
“Fuck.” Buck grabbed his kutte off the chair near the wall and shoved his arms into it while Ghost moved beside him, already checking the magazine in his handgun.
“How many men are out there?” Buck asked.
“Two prospects,” Mason said. Buck cursed under his breath. The east ridge overlook sat above the frozen tree line, nearly a mile from the compound. If the Vultures had taken it, they now would have a direct view of the Kings’ movements. And worse, they’d have a clean shot at the clubhouse itself.
Wren climbed off the bed behind him. “What happened?”
Buck turned instantly. “You stay here.”
Her eyes flashed. “Buck?—”
“No.” The sharpness in his tone silenced the room. Buck quickly crossed the room to her, gripping her shoulders gently but firmly. “Listen to me. If somebody breached that watch post,this compound may already be compromised.” Fear flickered across her face, and that worked for him because he needed her scared enough to stay put.
Ghost stepped closer beside him. “We’ll clear the ridge and come right back.”
Wren looked between both men, panic slowly creeping into her expression now. “You think they’re here already.”
Buck held her gaze steadily. “I think they’re getting bolder.” The room went quiet for half a heartbeat before Wren did something that nearly brought Buck to his knees. She reached for him. Her fingers curled around the front of his thermal shirt tightly while her eyes searched his face.
“Be careful,” she whispered. Christ. Buck covered her hand instinctively.
“You got my word,” he breathed.
Ghost made a low sound under his breath beside them, and Buck looked over at him. Ghost leaned against the wall, watching them with an expression Buck couldn’t fully name. Something rough. Something emotional. Then Ghost stepped forward, and without hesitation, Wren grabbed his hand as well. The simple gesture hit all three of them hard. Buck saw it happen on Ghost’s face too—that stunned softness like nobody had touched him gently in a very long time.
“Come back,” Wren said quietly.
Ghost swallowed before smirking faintly. “Sweetheart, now you’re really asking for trouble.” Buck barked out his laugh as possessive thoughts tangled together violently inside his chest again. He needed to focus, to stay sharp, but it was hard when Wren looked at both of them like they mattered already.
Ghost squeezed her fingers once before stepping away reluctantly. “Lock the door after we leave.”
“And don’t open it unless it’s one of us,” Buck added immediately. Wren nodded, and Buck forced himself to let go ofher to head to the hallway with Ghost beside him. The second the bedroom door shut behind them, the warmth disappeared, and cold purpose settled back into place.
“You good?” Ghost asked quietly as they headed downstairs.
Buck adjusted the knife strapped beneath his kutte. “No.”
Ghost snorted softly. “Same.” The clubhouse below buzzed with controlled chaos. Kings moved quickly between weapon lockers and radios while snow whipped against the windows hard enough to rattle glass.
