Contract With My Ex's Brother

Shadows at the Door

Marcus’s POV

Kathryn’s words hit like a sucker punch, and I’m not a man who gets caught off guard often. “Clayton’s not the only one hunting you tonight—and the other one’s already here.” Her voice slithers through the cabin, all venom and glee, and I feel Vivian stiffen behind me. My wolf snarls, hackles up, every instinct screaming to slam the door in this snake’s face and figure out what—or who—she’s talking about. But I’ve played this game too long to show my hand. Three years dodging traps and traitors taught me one thing: you don’t flinch until you know the play.

“Speak plain or get out,” I say, keeping my tone flat, though my pulse kicks harder than I’d like. Kathryn’s standing too close, her perfume—cloying, artificial—clashing with the cabin’s wood-and-bourbon scent. Her red lips curve, like she’s savoring this, and I hate how she’s got my attention pinned.

“Oh, Marcus,” she purrs, tilting her head. “You always were direct. Fine. Let’s just say your little stunt with Vivian’s stirred up more than Clayton’s temper. Someone else has their eye on her—and they don’t play nice.”

“Who?” Vivian snaps, stepping around me before I can stop her. Her eyes blaze, but there’s a tremor in her voice, and I catch the way her hands clench, like she’s holding herself together by a thread. Damn it, she’s too raw for this, too exposed after tonight’s mess.

Kathryn laughs, sharp and mocking. “Patience, honey. You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s just say rejection doesn’t sit well with some wolves.”

“Enough games,” I growl, moving between them again. My wolf’s clawing to break free, itching to wipe that smirk off her face, but I keep it locked down. “You’ve got five seconds to give me a name, or I’m throwing you out myself.”

Her eyes flick to mine, assessing, then she shrugs, like it’s all a joke. “No name. Not yet. But they’re closer than you think, and they’ve got plans for your new pet.” She glances at Vivian, then back to me. “Better keep her on a short leash.”

Vivian flinches, and I step forward, crowding Kathryn toward the door. “Time’s up,” I say, my voice low, laced with enough threat to make her blink. “Tell your mystery wolf they’ll have to go through me first.”

She holds my gaze a beat too long, then saunters out, her heels clicking on the porch. “Oh, they will,” she calls over her shoulder, her laughter fading into the night. The door slams behind her, and I lock it, my hand lingering on the bolt as my mind races.

“What was that about?” Vivian demands, her voice shaking but fierce. She’s pacing now, barefoot on the wood floor, her torn dress swishing with every step. “Who’s hunting me? And how does she know you?”

I turn, leaning against the door, and scrub a hand over my face. “Kathryn’s a troublemaker. Always has been. She’s probably just stirring the pot to scare you.”

“Scare me?” She stops, hands on her hips. “She said someone’s after me, Marcus. That’s not just stirring the pot—that’s a freaking bomb!”

“She’s bluffing,” I say, but even I don’t fully believe it. Kathryn’s too calculated for empty threats, and that “other one” comment has my wolf on edge. Someone from the pack? A rival faction? I’ve been gone too long to know all the players, but I’ve got enemies, plenty of them—and Vivian’s now a target by association. My fault.

“Bluffing,” Vivian repeats, scoffing. “You don’t sound sure. And you didn’t answer my other question—how do you know her?”

I hesitate, picking my words like stepping through a minefield. Telling her I’m Clayton’s brother now risks everything—the contract, my plan, her trust. “Ran into her a few times,” I say, vague but not a lie. “She’s got a knack for showing up where she’s not wanted.”

Vivian’s eyes narrow, like she’s peeling back my layers and finding gaps. “You’re hiding something. I can feel it.”

“You’re not wrong,” I admit, crossing to the couch and dropping onto it. I pat the cushion beside me, softening my tone. “Sit. Let’s talk this through.”

She doesn’t move, arms crossed, but her glare softens—just a fraction. “Talk, then. No dodging.”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and meet her gaze. “Kathryn’s got her claws in Clayton, but she’s not loyal to him. She’s playing her own game—always has. That warning? Could be her trying to spook us, or could be real. Either way, I’m not letting anyone near you.”

Her lips part, like she didn’t expect that, and a flush creeps up her neck. “Why do you care? This is just a contract, right?”

“Right,” I say, but the word feels heavy, wrong. My wolf’s too aware of her—her scent, her heat, the way her eyes search mine like she’s looking for truth I’m not ready to give. “But I don’t make deals I can’t keep. You’re in this with me, so you’re my responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” she murmurs, finally sitting, though she keeps a careful distance. “That’s not exactly romantic.”

I chuckle, low and rough. “You want romance, I can work on that. But right now, I’m more about keeping you alive.”

Her lips twitch, almost a smile, and it’s a small victory. “Fair enough. So what’s the plan? Hide here forever?”

“No hiding,” I say, leaning back. “Tomorrow’s the pack meeting. We go, we show them you’re not running. We show him you’re not his anymore.”

Her face pales, but she nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay. But if Kathryn’s there—or whoever she’s talking about—I’m not just standing there looking pretty. I want answers.”

“Deal,” I say, grinning despite myself. “You’re tougher than you look, you know that?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a spark in them now, less broken than before. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still a mess.”

“A mess I can work with,” I shoot back, and her laugh—soft, surprised—hits me like a warm breeze. I shouldn’t like it this much. Shouldn’t like her this much. This was supposed to be strategy, not… whatever this is.

I stand, needing distance, and head to the fireplace. “Get some rest,” I say, grabbing a log from the stack. “You can take the bed. I’ll crash here.”

“You’re giving me your bed?” she asks, brows lifting. “What kind of guy does that?”

“The kind who’s not a total jerk,” I say, tossing the log into the hearth. “Don’t read too much into it.”

She stands, hesitating, then heads for the hallway. “Marcus?” she says, pausing at the corner. “Thanks. For… you know, not letting me run out there.”

I nod, not trusting my voice, and watch her disappear. The fire crackles as I light it, but it does nothing for the cold knot in my gut. Kathryn’s warning loops in my head—someone else, already here. I’ve got contacts, old allies I can call, but it’s late, and I need to keep Vivian close until I know what’s what.

I’m halfway through piling blankets on the couch when a creak outside stops me cold. My wolf snaps to attention, ears pricked, as I ease toward the window. The porch is empty, moonlight glinting off the railing, but the hairs on my neck stand up. Something’s out there—something that smells wrong, like ash and iron, not pack, not human.

I slip to the door, grabbing the knife I keep tucked under the table. My hand’s on the knob when a low growl rumbles through the glass—not Clayton’s, not any wolf I know. My pulse spikes, and I glance back at the hallway where Vivian’s sleeping, oblivious.

The growl cut off, replaced by a single, deliberate scratch at the door—like someone, or something, was marking their claim.