Contract With My Ex's Brother

Breaking Free

Marcus’s POV

The creatures screeching fills the cabin like a banshee’s wail, and the pounding of their footsteps overhead shakes the basement ceiling, causing dust to rain down on Vivian and me. My wolf is restless, a snarl building as its claws itch to break free, but the flare we shoved into the crawlspace vent still burns bright, our potential escape route. Whatever those things are, they flinched at the light, and now they’re inside, hunting for us. My shoulder is bleeding, my knife slick with the black goo from earlier, but the fearless gleam in Vivian’s hazel eyes is the only motivation I need to make it out alive.

“Marcus, they’re inside!” Vivian whispers, gripping her wrench tightly, her eyes alive with fear and resolve. She’s trembling, but she’s holding it together, and that strength fills me with urgency I can’t ignore.

“The plan has changed,” I reply in a low voice, scanning the basement. The steel door at the top of the stairs rattles, claws scraping against it, and that frantic humming buzzes like angry hornets. “We’re not waiting anymore. Back hatch, through the woods to the truck. We need to go.”

“Go?” she hisses, glancing at our makeshift barricade of crates. “You said the back was a trap!”

“Was,” I growl, already moving towards the rusty hatch buried under a tarp. “Now it’s our chance. Help me get this open.”

She drops the wrench and quickly dives to assist me with the tarp, her hands steady amid the chaos. The footsteps above split apart, spreading further, and my heart races—we have mere seconds before they discover the basement. Vivian’s scent—jasmine and sweat—cuts through the acrid smell of ash, grounding me as we tug at the hatch’s handle. It groans, rusted shut, yet she doesn’t waver even when a loud bang reverberates through the door above.

“This better work,” she mutters, her tone sharp but focused, her dirty dress a testament to the turmoil. She might be a mess, but she’s undeniably vibrant.

“It will,” I assert, wedging my knife beneath the edge for leverage. “Push—now!”

Together we strain, the hatch finally bursting open with a rusty screech. Fresh, cool air floods in, and I peer into the narrow tunnel—it’s tight but leads into the woods. The creatures screech again, much closer now, wood splintering above us, and I grab Vivian’s arm. “You first. Crawl fast, and don’t stop.”

She hesitates, her eyes darting to my bloodied shoulder. “You’re hurt. I can’t leave you to—”

“Vivian,” I cut in gently but firmly. “I’m right behind you. Just go.”

“Bossy,” she shoots back, but a small smile escapes her lips as she ducks into the tunnel, her dress snagging on the rough edges. I follow closely, pulling the hatch shut, plunging us into near-darkness. The tunnel feels claustrophobic, dirt scraping against my arms, but moonlight glimmers at the far end, maybe twenty feet away. Vivian skitters ahead, crawling for her life—because it truly is.

A crash overhead shakes the ground, dirt pouring onto my back, and my wolf urges me to move faster. The furious humming spikes, as if the creatures sense our escape. Vivian reaches the end, shoving through a grate and landing in the grass. I’m out a moment later, the night air slamming into me like a lifeline, washing away the ash with the scents of pine and dew.

We’re in a clearing, the outline of the cabin dark against the trees. Vivian kneels, breathless, her hair wild. I pull her to her feet, her hand warm in mine. “No stopping,” I insist, scanning for shadows. “The truck’s half a mile away. Let’s run.”

She nods, kicking off her ruined heels, and we take off, her bare feet silent on the earth while my boots crunch. The forest is alive with sounds—crickets, rustling leaves—but there are no screeches, just the rhythm of our breaths as we weave through the pines. My shoulder throbs, but her grasp steadies me, her determination redoubling mine. She’s not the fragile girl from the bar, and it’s difficult to keep this arrangement strictly business.

“You good?” I ask, dodging a branch as we sprint. Her dress is in tatters, one sleeve missing, but she holds her pace, her jaw clenched.

“Never better,” she replies, a sarcastic grin breaking through. “You always this popular with monsters?”

“First time,” I laugh despite the tension. “You’re bad luck, Hart.”

“Me?” she scoffs lightly in reply, her tone growing lighter. “You’re the one with the creepy cabin and secret tunnels.”

“Fair enough,” I retort, and her quick, bright laughter cuts through the fear, igniting a warmth inside me I can't shake. I shouldn’t be feeling this way about her, but here we are.

The truck comes into view, parked under a tarp near a creek, and I rip the cover away, keys already in hand. “Get in,” I say, throwing open the driver’s door. Vivian hops into the passenger side as I slide behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life. The headlights slice through the darkness, and I speed off, tires kicking up dirt as we hit the backroad.

“Are they still behind us?” I ask, casting a glance her way. The cabin recedes in the rearview, no glowing eyes or lurking figures, but my gut remains tight with anxiety.

She twists around to peer out the back window. “Nothing… I think we’re clear.”

“Don’t jinx it,” I warn, easing off the gas. The road curves toward town, the smell of ash fading, replaced by fresh air. My wolf relaxes, sensing the danger retreating. Whatever those creatures were—rogues, spirits, something worse—they didn’t follow, possibly spooked off by the flare or the distance. I’m not naive enough to think they’re gone for good, but for now, we have a moment to breathe.

“Where to now?” Vivian asks, slumping against the seat, her breath gradually steadying. “Another secret hideout?”

“A safehouse,” I reply, keeping my gaze on the road. “On the edge of town, warded with pack magic. Those things won’t get in, and we need to regroup before the pack meeting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Her voice rises, a blend of nerves and determination. “After all this? You still want to parade me around as your fake mate?”

“Especially after this,” I affirm, glancing at her. “Clayton's already on edge—his howl, Kathryn’s visit. If we show up together, as a united front, it’ll unsettle him. Plus, the pack needs to see you're not broken.”

She bites her lip, staring at the dashboard. “I don’t feel strong. I feel like I just fled a horror movie.”

“You are strong,” I insist, my tone gentler than I'd intended. “You kept your cool back there and fought. Most would’ve panicked.”

Her eyes lock onto mine, wide and searching, warmth flooding her cheeks. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmurs, then quickly looks away as if embarrassed to say it. My wolf puffs up with pride, and I grip the wheel tighter, resisting the urge to reach for her hand.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. “But save it for tomorrow. We’ve got a show to put on.”

“Show,” she echoes, a small smile forming. “Guess I’d better practice my adoring glances.”

“Practice on me,” I wink, and her soft, genuine laugh hits me like a shot of whiskey, warm and dizzying. This arrangement is becoming complicated, and strangely, I don’t care.

The safehouse appears ahead—an unassuming cabin, concealed by oaks, its dark windows marked with faint runes glowing softly in the moonlight. I park and kill the engine, letting the silence envelop us. We’re safe—for now—and the upcoming pack meeting offers a chance to turn the tables on Clayton.

“Ready for this?” I ask, turning to face her. Her face is smudged, her dress in shambles, but there’s a spark in her eyes, a fighter ready to rise.

“Ready as I can be,” she answers, her voice steady. “Let’s make him regret ever letting me go.”

I grin, swelling with pride. “That’s my girl.”

For just a fleeting moment, her breath hitches, the air thickening with unspoken words. Before I can reflect on it, a soft rustle from the trees catches my attention—my wolf tenses.

A figure emerges from the shadows, not a creature but a wolf—Lila, Vivian’s friend, her eyes wide with urgency. “Vivian, thank God you’re here,” she breathes, glancing anxiously over her shoulder. “The pack’s calling an emergency meeting—tonight.”