Chapter 9: Fire Behind Closed Doors
1150 Words
Sandra
The door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the hum of the city like a blade. She barely had time to breathe before his mouth claimed hers again, hard and desperate. Her back hit the wall, and the world tilted on its axis.
For days she’d told herself this was a bad idea—an impossible, reckless thing. And yet, the moment Bradley’s lips touched hers, every shard of logic burned to ash.
His hands slid down her spine, gripping her hips with the strength of a man who knew what he wanted and had spent too long denying himself. She gasped into his mouth as he lifted her effortlessly, her legs locking around his waist. The hallway blurred.
They didn’t make it to the bedroom.
Her back hit another wall—cool, smooth—and then the world dissolved into heat. Buttons tore, fabric whispered to the floor, and his skin burned against hers like fevered silk.
The kiss deepened—hungry, consuming, yet threaded with something that terrified her more than chains ever had: reverence. He kissed her like she was precious, like she wasn’t broken pieces held together by rage and vengeance.
Her wolf howled in her chest, clawing for more, for him, for this forbidden wildfire. For years, her body had been a prison—a tool, a bargaining chip, a curse. Tonight, it was hers. And she gave it freely.
“Bradley…” His name spilled from her lips in a shaky whisper as his mouth traced a burning path down her throat.
“Say it again,” he growled against her skin, his voice ragged.
“Bradley,” she breathed, her nails digging into his shoulders.
The sofa loomed like a salvation they didn’t deserve. He lowered her onto the cushions, his body covering hers, and for a breathless moment, they just stared—green flames locking with blue ice.
No words. Just a war of hearts and hunger.
Then the storm broke.
Clothes vanished. Moans melted into the shadows. Every kiss, every touch was a promise she didn’t dare believe—a vow made in skin and fire.
When it ended, she lay sprawled across the couch, her chest rising and falling like waves after a hurricane. Bradley’s arm draped over her waist, heavy, protective, as if his body could shield her from every monster in the dark.
He fell asleep like that—breath warm against her shoulder, his heartbeat steady as a drum she wanted to memorize.
But Sandra couldn’t sleep.
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Sandra – Later
The clock on the wall ticked like a noose tightening around her neck. She slid from beneath his arm with the silence of a predator, careful not to wake him. His shirt—white, soft, smelling of cedar and smoke—hung loose around her thighs as she padded barefoot to the balcony.
The city stretched below like a living beast, neon veins glowing against the night. She gripped the railing, breathing in the cool air, willing it to smother the fire still licking at her skin.
What the hell was she doing?
This man wasn’t part of the plan. He was a detour she couldn’t afford, a weakness that could kill her. And yet… when his hands had held her, when his voice had murmured her name like a prayer, the rage inside her had gone quiet. For the first time in years, she’d felt something other than fury and fear.
Hope.
It terrified her more than chains ever did.
Her phone buzzed on the balcony table. She snatched it up, her voice low and sharp when she answered.
“Roy.”
The old wolf exhaled on the other end, rough and tired. “Where the hell are you, Sandra?”
“Alive,” she murmured. “For now. Listen—I need names. Anyone tied to Stefan. Lawyers, bankers, his shadow men. I don’t care how deep you dig, just find me everything.”
Roy hesitated. “What happened?”
Her nails bit into the metal railing as images clawed at her mind—Liam’s face in that classroom, surrounded by guards like a prisoner; Stefan’s smug grin the day he lied about her freedom; chains biting into flesh.
“Something that won’t happen again,” she said, her voice cold steel. “Not if I burn them all to ash.”
“Sandra—”
“Do it.” She ended the call before he could argue.
She stared at the city, chest heaving, wolf restless under her skin. This wasn’t over. It was just beginning. And no matter what promises she made tonight, vengeance still ruled her bones.
But as she turned, her gaze caught on the shadow in the doorway.
Bradley leaned against the frame, his shirt hanging open, green eyes dark as the storm outside. He wasn’t supposed to hear. But from the sharpness in his gaze, he had.
---
Bradley
She froze when she saw him, and that—more than the gun strapped to his thigh, more than the secrets thick as blood between them—was what gutted him.
Fear.
Not of him. Of losing control. Of letting someone too close.
He’d known the second he kissed her that this would burn him alive. That the curse coiling in his veins would sink its claws in the second she saw what he really was. And still, he couldn’t stop.
“You make a habit of midnight threats?” His voice was calm, velvet over steel, but his pulse was a storm.
Her chin lifted, defiant. “Stay out of things that don’t concern you.”
“Too late for that,” he said softly, stepping closer, the shadows swallowing the distance between them. “You came to me, Sandra. You asked for help.” His fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her face toward him. “And now you’re planning a war behind my back?”
Her breath hitched, but her eyes didn’t waver. “I told you—I’ll do whatever it takes to get my children back.”
“Even if it kills you?” His voice cracked, raw and dangerous. “Because that’s where this road leads.”
She said nothing. And silence was worse than lies.
Bradley exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. He wanted to shake her, kiss her, lock every door in the city if that’s what it took to keep her safe. But he couldn’t cage a wolf born in fire.
“Fine,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something dark. “You want a war? Then you don’t fight it alone.”
Sandra’s lips parted, a question trembling there—but he didn’t let it fall. His mouth crashed onto hers, fierce and unyielding, sealing a vow he couldn’t afford to make.
Because if this woman burned, Bradley Gray would burn with her. Curse be damned.
- Writer
