Claimed By The Four Alpha Demons

6. The Dead Line

Callie’s POV

The fog had swallowed the road whole by the time I pulled up to the curb outside Harper’s apartment building.

My hands were still trembling as I killed the engine, and it wasn’t the drive that had shaken me. I knew the winding mountain roads of Northwich better than the back of my hand. It was the residual energy humming under my skin, a persistent, low-voltage vibration that felt like I’d just stuck a fork in a toaster.

I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes bright and wide. I didn’t look like a woman who had spent six hours dusting a gothic mansion. I looked like a woman who had just been kissed.

Or hunted.

“Stop it,” I whispered, forcing myself to unclench my grip on the steering wheel. “You’re projecting. They’re just men. Very rich, very intense men who clearly don’t understand personal space.”

I grabbed my bag and stepped out into the chill evening air. The town center of Northwich was quaint, a sharp contrast to the brooding fortress on the cliff. Here, the streetlamps glowed with a warm, yellow light, and the smell of roasting coffee from the café below Harper’s apartment battled with the damp scent of the mist.

I buzzed the intercom, and a second later, the lock clicked open.

Harper was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, a glass of wine in one hand and a spatula in the other. She wore an oversized t-shirt covered in paint splatters and neon yellow socks that clashed violently with the rug.

“You’re alive!” she declared, ushering me inside and kicking the door shut. “I was half-convinced I’d have to organize a search party. Or an exorcism. Tell me everything. Did you see a ghost? Did you find a skeleton in a closet? Did you meet them?”

I dropped my bag on her sagging velvet sofa and groaned, sinking into the cushions. “Yes. No. And definitely yes.”

Harper abandoned her cooking, something that smelled suspiciously like burnt toast, and practically vaulted over the back of the sofa to sit beside me. She shoved the wine glass into my hand.

“Drink. Then spill.”

I took a long sip of the cheap Merlot, the warmth settling in my stomach, though it did little to quell the butterflies that had taken up residence there.

“It’s…intense, Harp,” I admitted, staring into the dark red liquid. “The house is massive. It’s beautiful, but it feels heavy. Like the walls are watching you.”

“Classic haunted mansion vibes,” Harper nodded sagely. “And the brothers?”

“I met them,” I said, my voice dropping. “All of them. In the kitchen. At the same time.”

Harper’s jaw dropped. “All four? At once? Callie, that’s not a job orientation, that’s a reverse harem novel waiting to happen. What are they like?”

“Terrifying,” I said honestly. “Ace, the second one, he’s…a lot. He kept looking at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to take apart. And Raiden looked like he wanted to eat me. Literally.”

“Hot,” Harper whispered.

“And Greyson…” I trailed off, the memory of his cold gray eyes making me shiver. “He’s the worst. He’s so cold, but when he looks at you, you feel pinned. He told me I have to clean the West Wing tomorrow.”

Harper choked on her own sip of wine. “The West Wing? Everyone knows that’s their private sanctuary. Delivery guys aren’t even allowed to look at that side of the house. Why would he send you there?”

“He said it needs attention,” I said, rubbing my temples. “And he said it in a way that made it sound like a threat.”

“Or an invitation,” Harper waggled her eyebrows.

“Stop,” I groaned, leaning my head back. “It’s not like that. They know about Liam. They made a point of bringing him up. It was humiliating. They looked at my hand, saw I wasn’t wearing my ring, and acted like…like I was available.”

Harper’s playfulness vanished, replaced by a soft look of empathy. She set her glass down and touched my knee gently. “Well…where is Liam, Cal? You haven’t heard from him all day, have you?”

I flinched slightly. The static in my head, which had quieted down since I entered the apartment, gave a dull throb.

“He’s working so hard,” I defended gently, feeling a wave of warmth—and guilt—wash over me. “He’s been pulled into endless meetings about the estate taxes and zoning. He’s carrying so much stress for both of us.”

“Callie,” Harper sighed softly. “I know he means well, but you’re working your fingers to the bone renovating a house that’s falling down around your ears, scrubbing floors for billionaires to pay for it. He shouldn’t let you carry the whole world on your shoulders.”

“He doesn’t,” I insisted, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “He’s genuinely doing everything he can to protect my inheritance. I’ll call him right now. You’ll see.”

I stood up and walked over to the window, needing a moment of privacy, as I dialed Liam’s number, watching the fog swirl around the streetlamps below.

It rang twice before the line clicked open.

“Callie?”

His voice came through soft, breathless, and laced with immediate tenderness. In the background, there was only the faint, quiet hum of room ambience.

“Hey,” I said, trying to infuse my voice with warmth, trying to ignore the weird way the static in my head suddenly went dead silent. It was jarring. With the Hawthornes, the world felt electric. With Liam, it felt like someone had wrapped the universe in heavy cotton. “I was just checking in. I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” Liam said softly, an affectionate chuckle warming his tone. “I’m so sorry I haven’t called yet. I’ve been buried in legal briefs all day trying to clear those zoning blocks for Briarcliff. How are you holding up, beautiful? Are you okay?”

A rush of relief hit my chest, making me feel almost foolish for my earlier anxiety. “I’m okay. Just tired. The Hawthorne estate is huge.”

“I hate that you’re doing heavy cleaning, Cal,” Liam murmured, his voice rich with sincere concern. “You shouldn’t have to push yourself like this. As soon as I settle these property disputes, you won’t have to lift a finger, I promise. Did those billionaire snobs treat you alright? If any of them made you uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll pull you out of there tomorrow.”

“No, no, it was fine,” I reassured him quickly, a sudden blush warming my cheeks as I thought of Ace leaning over me in the library, smelling of woodsmoke and sin. “Just…an old, intense house. Where are you right now? Are you still stuck in the city?”

“No, I actually drove up this afternoon to be closer,” he said, his tone softening with regret. “I’m in Oak Ridge, staying at The Grand Hotel. I had a late dinner with one of the local council representatives to push the paperwork through. I wanted so badly to surprise you and drive over to Briarcliff tonight, Cal.”

Oak Ridge. It was the next town over, only forty minutes from Northwich.

“Oh,” I said, a faint trace of longing in my voice. “I wish you were here. The roof in the guest room is leaking again, and it’s just so quiet.”

“God, I wish I were there to wrap you up in my arms right now,” Liam sighed, sounding genuinely crushed. “I hate leaving you alone in that drafty house. But I have an early eight-thirty morning meeting with the district supervisor here to finalize our restoration loan. I need to make sure Briarcliff stays yours, sweetheart. I’m doing all of this for us.”

“I know,” I whispered, a wave of affection washing over me, burying the dark, terrifying memories of the Hawthornes under a blanket of safety. “Thank you, Liam. Truly.”

“Don’t thank me, Cal. You’re my future wife. Supporting your dreams is my job,” he said gently. “I’ll drive straight to Northwich tomorrow evening right after my meetings wrap up. I’ll take you out to that little Italian place you love, and we can just forget about work for one night. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Get some rest tonight, okay? Don’t push yourself too hard tomorrow at work. I love you so much, Callie.”

“I love you too, Liam.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

The line clicked off gently.

I lowered the phone slowly, a warm, steady smile touching my lips.

I love you so much, Callie.

My heart felt full and grounded. I looked out the window, looking past the fog toward the dark, jagged silhouette of the mountains in the distance where Grimstone Hall sat perched like an ancient monster.

For a moment earlier, I had let those four dangerous, captivating brothers rattle my foundation. Ace’s electric touch, Raiden’s hungry gaze, Greyson’s icy, possessive command—it was all just overwhelming, high-octane spectacle designed to intimidate me. It wasn’t real.

Liam was real. Liam was safe, loving, and working himself to the bone for our future.

“Everything okay?” Harper called out from the sofa.

I turned back to the room, a genuine, relaxed smile on my face. “Better than okay. He’s at The Grand in Oak Ridge finishing up the legal loan work for Briarcliff. He’s taking me out to dinner tomorrow night as soon as he gets into town.”

Harper looked at me, her expression softening into a warm smile. “See? I told you not to let those billionaire brooding vampires get into your head. You’ve got a good guy.”

“I really do,” I said softly, walking over to sit back down beside her. “He’s doing everything he can for my family’s house.”

“Good,” Harper grinned, raising her wine glass. “To handsome, supportive fiancés who actually appreciate you.”

“To sensible choices,” I added, clinking my glass against hers.

We spent the next hour talking comfortably about normal, everyday things—town gossip, bad customers at her shop, and the ridiculous weather. It was grounded, comfortable, and blissfully safe. Exactly what my overstimulated nerves needed.

Yet, as the night wore on and I eventually said my goodbyes to Harper, a strange, unbidden shadow hovered at the edge of my mind.

As I drove through the biting cold toward the crumbling gates of Briarcliff, the silence of the night settled back in. I unlocked my grandmother’s old house, navigating the dark hallway by the dim glow of my phone light.

I climbed the creaking stairs to my bedroom, changed into an oversized shirt, and curled beneath the heavy quilt. I closed my eyes, willing myself to drift off while thinking of Liam’s sweet voice promising to wrap his arms around me tomorrow.

But as sleep finally took over, the image that burned behind my eyelids wasn’t my fiancé’s loving smile.

It was Greyson Hawthorne’s cold, icy gaze.

Tomorrow, you start on the West Wing.

A quiet spark of electricity zapped through the dark bedroom, and the static in the air rose to a gentle, dangerous hum, carrying me away into the dark.