Chapter 60
1682 Words
Gwen
The wind tore through the garden like it wanted to carry me off with it. I stayed kneeling in the snow, numb and motionless, watching the dying husks of summer roses sway under frost. My tears had dried into tight salt streaks on my skin, but I was too empty to brush them away.
Footsteps crunched behind me.
I didn’t turn. I didn’t need to.
Cain reached me first, wrapping his warm arms around me from behind. He didn’t say anything, just held me against his chest, his cheek pressed to the top of my head like he was trying to breathe me back to life.
Cole and Cash flanked me moments later. Cole knelt on one side, his hand finding mine, silent and steady. Cash stood for a second before crouching, resting his arms on his knees. His jaw clenched like he was still at war with himself.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For everything. For hurting you. For not knowing what was real.”
“No,” Cain said gently. “You don’t apologize for being manipulated.”
“You didn’t betray us,” Cole added. “You were caught in someone else’s game. But you’re still ours, Gwen.”
“I know,” I whispered. “And I love you. All of you.”
A pause.
Then I pulled away, just enough to look each of them in the eyes. I had made my decision. “But I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired of being the girl people protect, the one they steal and manipulate and throw into cages. I want to fight back.”
Cole blinked. Cain raised a brow. Cash tilted his head.
“I want to train again,” I said. “I want to get strong enough to defend myself—and the people I love. I was a warrior once. I want that back. I want me back.”
Something shifted in Cash’s expression—something proud. Cain smiled, slow and fierce. Cole’s hand tightened around mine.
“We’ll help you,” Cain said. “Every step of the way.”
“Hell yeah,” Cole agreed, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Morning runs, combat drills, weapons training. We’ll put you through the same training we did.”
“I’m not going to be soft anymore,” I said. “No more waiting to be saved.”
“Then let’s celebrate your comeback,” Cash said suddenly, standing and brushing snow off his jeans.
We all looked at him.
He gave us a crooked grin. “Let’s go out. Somewhere loud. With music and drinks and zero royal guards breathing down our necks. We’ll dance, we’ll drink, and we’ll pretend—for just one night—that the world isn’t burning down.”
“Are you serious?” Cole asked, brows raised.
“I’m dead serious. I want to see Gwen laugh again. I want us to have something good before the next storm hits.”
My chest tightened—but this time with something warm.
“Yes,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
“Jordan and Derrick?” Cain asked.
“Of course,” I said. “If I’m going to have a night out, I want my best friend with me.”
Cain chuckled. “I’ll make the call.”
Cash looked at me then, really looked at me. “We’re going to get through this, you know.”
“I know,” I whispered. “Because this time, I’ll be fighting too.”
Cole
The bass thudded through the floorboards of the bar, vibrating up my boots and into my ribs. Lights flashed red and blue over the writhing crowd. Laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint scent of sweat and perfume filled the air.
I sat nursing a whiskey, watching from a corner booth while my brothers dragged Gwen into the center of the dance floor.
She laughed—genuinely laughed—as Cain spun her dramatically, then passed her to Cash, who dipped her with exaggerated flair. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brighter than I’d seen them in weeks. She glowed under the strobe lights, like she’d been made to shine there.
I didn’t dance. Never had. I liked the edges of the room, where I could think, observe, keep people safe.
But then Gwen’s eyes found mine.
She extricated herself from Cain and Cash and made her way through the crowd, her hips swaying to the beat, her smile mischievous and warm. She slid into my lap without asking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You gonna sit here brooding all night, or are you gonna come dance with your mate?” she asked, threading her arms around my neck.
“I’m not brooding,” I muttered. “I’m observing.”
“Mhm. Brooding,” she teased.
“I don’t dance.”
Her lips curled. “Not even for me?”
I sighed, but it was too late. She was giving me those big, pleading eyes. The ones that could knock down any walls I’d ever put up.
“You’re not playing fair,” I murmured.
She smiled wider. “I’m not trying to.”
I shook my head, slid my arm around her waist, and stood, lifting her with me. “One dance,” I said.
“Three,” she bargained, and kissed my cheek.
Damn her. She knew exactly how to win.
Gwen
I was warm from the inside out. The alcohol buzzed softly in my blood, but it was nothing compared to the high of feeling free—no palace walls, no looming deadlines, no council breathing down our necks. Just me, my mates, and music.
Cash had me by the waist, Cain’s hands trailed along my arms, and Cole—sweet, steady Cole—stood close behind, finally giving in and moving with the rhythm. I felt wrapped in them, claimed by them. Worshipped.
Then the beat changed.
The DJ slowed things down—low, thumping bass, a smoky female voice dripping seduction.
Everything shifted.
Cain’s hand slid up my spine. Cash’s lips found my neck, soft and slow. Cole leaned in, brushing his mouth over my shoulder like he was breathing me in.
I shivered.
The crowd blurred away as the three of them moved around me like a dance all their own. I was the center. The spark. The tether.
Cain kissed me—deep and possessive. Cash followed, teasing my lower lip with his. Cole was last, but he kissed me like I was precious. Like I was his entire world.
Fingers caressed my sides. Lips ghosted over my collarbone. Their scent—oak and spice and rain—wrapped around me like silk.
I felt wanted.
I felt powerful.
I was the one choosing. The one commanding. And it was exhilarating.
I tilted my head back and let out a breathless laugh, sandwiched between my mates, every inch of me alive. The past would haunt me, but tonight—I belonged to no one’s fear.
Tonight, I belonged to myself.
And they were mine.
The air inside the club had grown thicker—less about dancing and more about feeling. Every movement on the dance floor had slowed, the crowd swaying instead of bouncing. Dim lights pulsed in sultry reds and purples, casting shadows across sweat-damp skin and parted lips.
I was caught between my mates—literally.
Cash stood behind me, his big hands braced on my hips as we moved to the beat. His chest was pressed against my back, warm and solid, grounding. Cole was in front, his gaze locked on mine, his lips curved in that soft, secret smile he only gave me. Cain hovered to the side, his hand occasionally brushing my lower back, teasing, possessive.
The world narrowed to the three of them.
Cash dipped his head and dragged his lips along the side of my neck, stopping just below my ear. “You look like you belong to sin itself, baby” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that made my knees wobble.
Cole leaned in close, his breath mixing with mine. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”
“I like fire,” I whispered back, grinning.
Cain let out a soft growl as he stepped in behind me. “She is fire.”
I turned so I was facing Cain, my back now pressed to Cole’s chest. My fingers trailed down Cain’s shirt before sliding around his waist to pull him closer. He responded instantly, his hands settling low on my hips. The three of us moved together in a rhythm that had nothing to do with the music and everything to do with touch, heat, and a bond that buzzed beneath our skin.
It was intoxicating.
Their hands drifted—never too far, never inappropriate for public, but enough to keep my whole body tingling. Cain’s fingers brushed the side of my thigh, his lips ghosting over my jaw. Cole’s hands flexed at my waist, steady and reverent. Cash’s thumb skimmed the base of my spine, slow and sure, his breath hot where it touched my neck.
I felt like a goddess being worshipped on the dance floor.
Other people faded. Time, too.
I tilted my head back against Cole’s chest and let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “This is dangerous.”
Cash chuckled, deep and husky. “Sweetheart, you haven’t seen dangerous yet.”
We danced until the music shifted again, the crowd picking back up with it. But something had changed in us, in me. That electric current of connection, of safety and want and trust, had deepened.
Cain leaned in, brushing his lips over my cheek. “You ready to head back?”
I nodded, breathless, pulse pounding in my throat. “Yeah.”
And as we left the club—my hands held by Cain and Cole, Cash at my back—I realized I wasn’t just going home.
I was going with my pack.
- Writer
