CHAPTER 4
1025 Words
BLAINE
I watched her face change from confusion to shock, and I knew there was no point lying anymore.
"Yeah," I said, letting out a slow breath. "There's something I forgot to tell you."
Nyla turned the TV off, but the silence after was almost worse than the reporter's voice. She walked back over and sat on the edge of the bed, the wet towel still clutched in her hand, staring at me like she was seeing me for the first time.
"Blaine Frost," she said slowly, testing the name. "You're Blaine Frost. The Blaine Frost. Frost Enterprises."
"Yes."
"You're worth, what, eleven billion dollars?"
"Twelve, last time I checked," I said. "Though tonight, I'd trade most of it to not be lying in a motel bed with three broken ribs."
She let out a shaky laugh, but it didn't last. Her eyes dropped to the claw marks on my back, then back up to my face. "The news said you were attacked in an internal pack dispute. What does that mean? Who did this to you?"
I sat up slowly, ignoring the pain, because I needed her to see my face when I said it.
"My brother," I said. "Damon."
Saying his name out loud felt strange, like spitting out poison.
"My father died eight months ago," I continued. "He left controlling shares of Frost Enterprises to me, not Damon, even though Damon is the firstborn. My father always said Damon had the temper of a wolf but not the heart of an Alpha. He wasn't wrong."
Nyla's brow furrowed. "And tonight?"
"Tonight there was supposed to be a board vote. A formality, really, confirming me as Alpha of the Frost pack and CEO of the company. Damon requested a private meeting beforehand. Said he wanted to talk, man to man, brother to brother." I let out a bitter laugh. "He brought four of his men instead. Silver claws. They were supposed to make it look like rogue wolves got me on a back road."
"That's..." Nyla's hand pressed against her mouth. "That's your own brother."
"Family is complicated," I said, and the second the words left my mouth, I saw something flicker across her face. Her own family was probably complicated too, right now, in a very different way.
"You said no police, no hospital, no pack," she said quietly. "Because if Damon finds out you're still alive..."
"He'll finish the job. And anyone with me." I held her eyes. "Which is why you need to leave, Nyla. Right now. Take your car, go somewhere Damon's people would never look for you, and forget you ever pulled a half dead man off a road tonight."
She didn't move.
"Did you hear me?" I asked.
"I heard you," she said. "I'm just deciding whether I'm going to listen."
Something in my chest tightened, something that had nothing to do with my ribs. Ronan, my wolf, pressed close under my skin, calm in a way he hadn't been in years, and it scared me more than Damon's men ever could.
"Nyla."
"You can't even stand up on your own," she said, standing and crossing her arms. "You said it yourself, wolves heal fast, but not fast enough. If I leave now and Damon's men find this room in an hour, you're dead. And I'll have helped kill a man because I was scared."
"You're already pregnant and your husband is cheating on you with your sister," I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. "You don't need a billionaire's war added to that mess."
Her jaw tightened, and for a second I thought she'd argue. Instead, she crossed the small room and grabbed my jacket off the floor where it had landed earlier, going through the pockets.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking for anything that can be traced," she said. "If we're staying, we're staying smart."
I should have stopped her. I should have told her there was nothing in those pockets but a wallet I'd already left behind on purpose. But I didn't, because I was too busy watching her, the way she bit her lip in concentration, the way the motel light caught the side of her face, soft and golden despite everything she'd been through tonight.
Then her fingers closed around something on my wrist.
My watch.
"This is a tracker, isn't it," she said slowly, lifting my arm. The platinum face glinted under the lamp. "This isn't just an expensive watch. Damon gave you this, didn't he?"
I went still. "Last Christmas."
"Blaine." She looked up at me, and for the first time since I'd met her, real fear crossed her face. Not for herself. For me. "If this thing has GPS, and it's still on..."
I didn't even have time to answer.
Outside, gravel crunched under tires, slow and deliberate, the sound of a vehicle pulling carefully into the lot. Then another. Headlights swept across the curtains, painting two long lines of white light across the ceiling before cutting off.
Nyla froze, the watch still in her hand.
"That's them," I said quietly, my whole body going cold despite the heat still humming under my skin from her touch. "Those are Damon's men."
"How do you know?"
"Because they just turned their headlights off in a parking lot with one working streetlight," I said, swinging my legs off the bed despite the agony screaming through my ribs. "Nobody does that unless they don't want to be seen."
Car doors opened, soft, careful, no slamming. Then footsteps on gravel, more than two sets, moving toward the row of rooms.
Toward room twelve.
Nyla's eyes met mine, wide and terrified, and I reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her down beside me as the footsteps stopped right outside our door.
A shadow passed across the curtain, blocking out the last sliver of streetlight.
Then a fist hit the door, three slow, heavy knocks.
"Mr. Frost," a voice said from the other side, calm and pleasant, the kind of voice that made my blood run cold. "We know you're in there. Open the door, and we'll make this quick."
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