The next day, I sat in the file room. In fact, I sat in any room that didn't have Paul in view. The downside was to assume that even if we could stop arguing, there wouldn't be anything left at the end to salvage. Despite all this, I missed the smell of motor oil. It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

But with downsides came progress. Carolyn became encouraged during our daily morning chats. Luke instructed Arthur Jenkins to release the funds he had promised. To draw no alarm from the banks from a sum that large, they both insisted it was done in stages rather than one big hit. Neither of us had heard from Antoine. With any luck, he would snap at the heels of another poor soul.

When it hit four o'clock, Jenny stuck her head in. "Luke and the others are going to the basement under the bar."

"Why the basement?"

"Band night," was all she said. "Are you coming?"

Being this close to getting what I needed, the terms of our agreement needed to be upheld at all costs. My tolerance with Paul would need to crank up a notch, and if there was a hatchet to bury, then maybe this would be an opportunity for us both, even though the idea of continued rejection while he was sober, was wearing me down. "I go where Luke goes. I'm an obedient soldier."

Jenny's head tipped to one side, and she frowned. "I can drive you there instead if it'll give you a break from my cousins. I'm glad you're still here, Dana. They are too. I know it. Paul will come around. He's always been a stubborn ass."

"That would be great," I said. "Living with them, working with them, there's no let-up for any of us anymore. We are in each other's pockets, and something has to give at some point. I need Paul to talk to me, and not just when he's drunk. He's a Jekyll and Hyde. Knowing there is still something between us but not being able to express that is hard. I think he hates the sight of me or even the concept that I exist in his reality now."

Jenny pouted. "I'm sorry, honey. He's hurting. This will all be over soon."

I hoped she was right. For the rest of my shift, my thoughts lingered on Paul. Unaware of how many fragments our relationship was now in, no amount of tape seemed enough to repair it. I just needed him to talk to me.

The drive in Jenny's car was fast. Within a few minutes, we were at the bar and descending a set of steps to the basement. The others were at a table, all except for Carlyle, who opted to drink alone at the back.

Paul sat to my left and Luke to my right. Three tracks in, and with the bass thumping, Paul leaned into me. "They're butchering a classic."
The weakness from his proximity flooded me in one biblical-sized wave. It seemed more of a statement than something he intended me to answer, so I became more determined than ever to hold the fort until he was willing to talk to me properly again. That meant about us, Luke and Lucille.

Luke set his drink down, his voice now a whisper in my ear on the opposite side. "Dana, I've been thinking about our conversation the other night. I still don't want you to be alone with Carlyle at the moment."

My gaze flitted to Carlyle and then to Luke. "Is that why he's sitting over there?"

"No, he's still pissed at me. Carlyle took you to the compound, don't forget—exactly where we would have been shifting. We purposely went as far from you as we could to avoid any risk."

"What does he say about this?" Despite Luke's conviction, my body didn't respond to Carlyle as a threat anymore. If Paul had taught me anything, I now trusted my instincts above all else.

"He wouldn't hear this from me. Our relationship always seems strained lately."
I sighed, sinking lower in my chair. "When I last saw hershe was a monster. A snarling wolf poised to attack. What if she never recognizes me?"

Luke's eyes warmed as he nodded. "I'll keep you safe. I promised you."

Paul made a pfft sound, seeming tetchy at the private conversation between Luke and me.

"Thought you were the last one that took her to see Lucille unprepared if I recall, brother. How safe is that?"

My eyes rolled. "That you're more of a cat person, Paul." Why I felt the need to blurt that out, I will never know. I bit my tongue. I shouldn't have taken the bait. Every time I opened my mouth, I made things worse.

"You're funny," he said. Paul rolled his eyes which invited a long stare from Luke.

"Well, I make myself laugh," I added, looking away and downing the rest of my drink.
"Peach, that's not always a good thing." He shuffled his chair a few inches away.

"You're being childish."

"Jesus," he howled. "I'm older than you!"
"Then act like it!" Gunning for an argument, whatever the cost, I changed the subject with him. "How's your dad doing?" The question was aimed at both brothers, not just the one simmering on my left.

"Why, want to go root through a sick man's draws again while he sleeps?"

My jaw hung open, unable to conceal the sting his words had unleashed. "That's harsh. You left me with no choice. Do we need to argue?"

My hands shook under the table, but there was no way in hell that I would let him know how badly his words were cutting. Cheek biting was the key. Forget that stupid saying about opposites attract. Judgment should be reserved for anyone married doing double time for murder on the old twenty-five-years-to-life stint—survivors. All of them.

"I distinctly remember you having choices. You could have come to me."

"Those were choices? Like one is better than the other, and I had full disclosure? You need a lobotomy if you think I ever had a choice!" The rage under my skin was at boiling point, and I now wanted to burn him back.

Luke sighed. "If you want an audience, you both have one. Take this outside."

Paul's eyes became colder. "No need. We both know we've hit a wall now. Stay on your side with your college buddies, Georgia and Luke, depending on the side of the fence he wants to play house on this week, and I'll stick to mine."

"Two words for you, Paul. Sleep well. I know I'll sleep well in his bed." The second I said it, I regretted it. There was thunder in his eyes, and my words lodged in my throat, wanting to cave and have one second of his warm hazel eyes back.

The shards of ice in his glass spilled as he slammed his drink down and stormed off to sit at the back with Carlyle.

Luke turned to me. "Try talking to him tomorrow?"

"Thanks, but I don't think that's a good idea."
"For the record, I don't agree with him. You guys never really had a fair shot. Perhaps it's best to let sleeping dogs lie?"

"His dogs are borderline rabid and need to be shot." I gave Luke the once over. "No offense."

I needed some air or space that didn't have him in it. The basement had an emergency exit where most smokers had come and gone throughout the evening. The four-by-four area was empty when I pushed the fire door open and ventured outside. A chain-link fence choked in ivy cordoned off access to the salvage yard behind it. One rusted corner stretched, leaving a small gap. The access door slammed behind me.

I leaned against the cold wall, taking a deep breath and trying to steady my racing heart. The argument with Paul had left me feeling raw and exposed, but I couldn't deny that I missed the closeness we once shared. As I stood there in the darkness, contemplating our fractured relationship, I couldn't help but wonder if we'd ever find a way to mend the rift between us.

The dirt kicked up as I paced back and forth, mulling over Paul's vicious words. He was hurting, but now he was causing me pain, too. The fire door opened behind me. "Ready for round two already?" I sighed.

My skin prickled, and the hair on my neck charged. A gravelly voice interrupted my thoughts, sending a shudder down my spine.

"Hey, sweetheart," the voice drawled. I turned to find its source, my gaze locking onto a hulking figure that emerged from the shadows.
Antoine stood before me, his bulky frame somehow even more imposing than I remembered.

His eyes glinted coldly in the dim light, his broad nose and jutting chin lending him an air of menace. He was dressed in a dark jacket that seemed to swallow the scant light around him.
I felt sick.

"Antoine." My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to maintain an outward sense of calm, despite the fear coursing through me.

"Please, Antoine," I stammered, desperation creeping into my voice as I realized there was no escape. "I'm working on getting your money. Just give me more time."

"Time's up, sweetheart," he sneered, grabbing my arm with a grip so tight I could feel the bruises forming beneath his fingers. He yanked me through the hole in the fence, ignoring my protests as he dragged me into a junkyard filled with rusted-out cars and other discarded machinery.

I gulped. His hand covered my mouth and nose, and fighting to find a breath was elevating my panic.

"Could you have picked a smaller town to hide in? You're a college kid. There is only one bar in this town. I stumble in and look at what I find... a deserter with debt still to pay."

My fingers clawed at the vice-like grip over my face until it loosened. "What's that, Dana? Do you have something to say?"

"I can't breathe," I strained to reply, but it came out more of a mumble. For the first time, I caught a glimpse of his face and predatory smile.

"That's the least of your problems." With a hand still secured around my mouth, he nudged me forward towards the gap in the fence.

Part dragging, part pulling, he forced me through. It opened into a clearing that chilled the very blood in my veins. Rows of beat-up cars lined grass tracks for miles. Most had doors missing handles, dented bonnets, or shattered windows. Only the occasional light gave me any sense of hope.

He glanced over at me and smiled. "I thought you'd like the place. Wide open spaces, good for running, no one around to hear you scream."

I mentally pleaded for Paul. A stream of tears wet my cheeks. We marched for ten minutes. There wasn't another soul around. The thumping music from the bar was becoming distant, and I knew if I screamed, no one would hear it.

When we came to a dirt crossroads, he yanked me to a halt. "Put this on," he said, offering a roll of duct tape.

My head shook vehemently. He had got to be joking.

"Suit yourself," he said.

His fist exploded into my abdomen with such force I lurched and spilled the contents of my stomach onto the floor. For a moment, I lay on my back and saw stars that were not part of the night sky. Tears stung the corners of my eyes, yet part of me felt relieved that the hunt was over.

At least this would solve every single problem I had. A split second later, I thought, no. I had not worked this hard for it to end like this. Paul and Luke had always swooped in to save me, but at some point, I needed to start slaying my own dragons.

Antoine stared down, fists balled, ready to plant another blow. I must have gasped because his eyes snapped up to mine, and then he smiled.

I summoned all the venom I could into my next words. "You do not even know who you're dealing with now. I'm not the dejected college kid you used to mess with."

"Get on your knees," he commanded, shoving me toward the grimy floor.

My heart raced as I obeyed, bile rising in my throat at the thought of what might happen next. "Beg for your life."

"Please," I whispered, choking back tears as I looked up at him. "I'll get you your money. Just don't hurt me."

"Sorry, Dana," Antoine said, his voice devoid of any compassion. "But it's time to face the consequences."

I struggled with every ounce of energy I could muster as Antoine tore duct tape into strips, binding my hands and mouth. Resistance was the only thought in my head.

When finished, I watched him through tear-stained eyes as he hauled me up and into a broken-down school bus to his left. It had no door, and the seating inside was metal frames with no padding. Its once-yellow paint was now corroded and peeling away.

The inside was no better, with torn seats and broken windows. He threw me to the ground as if I weighed nothing; his sheer strength startling even for a man.

I scooted back. I could feel a blind rage building inside, and I just needed the perfect opportunity to unleash it. Behind the driver's side, something glinted in the moonlight as he bent to retrieve it. The hardened steel of the sledgehammer in his hands sent chills through my body.

If I failed, it would be over fast. I gulped and willed my voice to speak. Antoine sensed the intention, took a step forward, and ripped the tape from a single corner of my mouth. The burn ignited a fire over my cheeks.

"Something you want to say?"

I nodded and looked around for anything that may help stall or stop him. "I have your money," I lied.

"Yeah, you've said that before. Do you take me for a fool?"

I shook my head. "No. It's different this time."

He smirked. "It always is by the time I get the sledgehammer out. I'm going to leave the tape off. I kind of like the idea of hearing you beg."
He aligned the sledgehammer with my kneecaps, poised to strike when a voice sounded.

"Antoine, let her go!" Paul's voice rang out, strong and commanding.

"Stay out of this, pretty boy," Antoine sneered, pulling me closer in an attempt to use me as a shield. Paul skidded to a halt a few feet away.

His jaw clenched with frustration.

Antoine sighed but didn't seem surprised. He rubbed a spot on his temple that seemed to irritate him before stretching the muscles in his neck.

Using the seat behind me, I shuffled up onto my feet. I darted toward him, sending my elbow crashing into his jaw. Pivoting, I raised my knee and charged it into his groin. His balance faltered, and he crumpled. I made a beeline for the concertina doors, but a hand dug into my hair, clamping down hard and yanking me back. I tripped over, falling in front of him.

"If I can get you alone once, Dana, you can bet that I'll be able to do it again." With those last words, he swung once, and the funny thing is, I don't even remember it hitting.

The gap between near-death experiences was starting to feel like a short 30-minute lunch break. Not for the first time, I woke in a strange bed, preparing myself for an onslaught of pain. The upside this time was—there wasn't any.
My eyes flew open, hands flying to my knees, petrified of what I would find.

"You're uninjured." My head snapped to Luke, perched on the edge of the bed, one hand restraining my legs.

My eyes were wild as they scanned the room. How had I got here, what had come of Antoine, and where was Paul? If Antoine had hurt him to get back at me, all bets were off. I would gun for blood, take that sledgehammer of his, and split his cranium until there was nothing left to identify.

"Paul is okay. You passed out, in some manner of speaking. You shifted, Dana, and I am not sure who was more shocked, Paul or your fucking loan shark."

What? I what?

"That's right. I must say, it takes a lot to stun a wolf, but my god, did you ever manage to do it."

"Where is Antoine?"

"Antoine fled as Paul arrived and found you in your shifted form. I didn't quite believe it but I was a fool not to have thought it was still possible. Sometimes, it takes duress to awaken a beast."

I needed to speak to Paul, understand what he had seen if this was real, and what this meant for me returning to my normal life? Would Antoine return? Would he understand what had happened or was he so drunk by the time he found be that last night would be more of a blur?

"Where is Paul? I want to see him." The sense of urgency at having to see him and confirm it for myself was overwhelming.

"He's in his bedroom—carried you in here when we got back. He's killing himself because he argued with you tonight. Self-blame is a hard pill to swallow, and right now, you'll only make that one worse. I need to speak to the rest of the Pack, but If you need anything, Paul is across the hall."

After Luke left, I was alone with only my thoughts for contemplation. Paul was an element in my life I never wanted to give up on. You can lose an essence, and sometimes, in its place, something darker can grow. If he rejected me again after tonight, I wouldn't survive it.

The space he had wanted was no longer something I could give him. It wasn't even a question of whether I should. I did it anyway. Knocking on his bedroom door, there was no immediate answer. The door creaked as I pushed it open.

Paul was on his back, wide awake, with his eyes trained on the ceiling. My eyes unapologetically roamed over his exposed, sun-kissed skin. Dark jeans hung loosely over his hips as he turned over to face me.

I used to hate the word awesome; so overused, but this man owned it. His eyes flicked to me.
This time, when his gaze drew on my face and lips, he made no effort to hide it. He could shed the clothes on my back, but the look coming at this moment would still feel more intimate.

We synchronized for a long beat until he said, "I'm so sorry, Dana." He visibly swallowed hard. My fingers found the corner of the comforter and peeled it back. Paul made no movement, but his eyes studied mine intently, tracking every movement.

"You're a wolf, Dana. I saw it with my own eyes and you were magnificent, much taller, stronger, faster, more of everything. I didn't think I could fall for you more than I already had. But I did. I knew there was something different about you, something primal. But to think that you actually turned into a wolf...I can't even wrap my head around it."

"You can't wrap your head around it? I am so far in denial I don't know if I will ever truly believe it."

"I'll admit, it's hard to believe. But after everything we've seen in this world, is it really that far-fetched considering your grandmother was our Alpha?"

The abundance of questions that now sought out answers in my head would need to wait. I was too tired andtoo confused to know where to start. All I did know, was that Paul was physically too far away from me and my body craved him more than ever before.

His apprehension rolled off of him like a new scent I'd never encountered before, yet there was something else too; a smell that had always lingered somewhere in the recesses of my mind but was now engulfing every neuron in my brain, telling me to take him, own him—make him mine.

There was only one thing left for me to say. "I trust you. It's only hard if it's worth it, right? I'm on board. Whatever you want, we now do it together."

I leaned forward and kissed the side of his neck. My breath blew against his overheated skin. There was a reserve he held, and I desperately wanted him to shed it. My heart pounded, echoing my pulse in my ears. I am in love with Paul Benton, and every light I had now ran green.

We were both restrained for a painstaking minute, and I refused to tear my gaze from the darkening clouds in his eyes. Finally, he leaned in, almost like he was falling. The kiss that followed was intense with renewed purpose and with the telltale clashing of the mouths and frantic exploration that I always hoped—until we both lost it. Once my shirt was off, everything about our relationship became a game-changer.