Contract With My Ex's Brother

Echoes in the Dark

Vivian’s POV

Waking up in a stranger’s cabin wasn’t how I imagined starting over, but running from one now feels even less like a plan. That howl—Clayton’s howl—rips through the night like a blade, slicing straight to my core. My wolf whines, torn between fear and the stupid, stubborn pull of a bond I wish I could claw out of me. I don’t think—I just move, my bare feet hitting the cold wood floor as I bolt for the door. The bourbon glass clatters behind me, Marcus’s voice a muffled shout, but I’m already yanking the knob, the night air slapping my face as I stumble onto the porch.

“Vivian, wait!” Marcus calls, his boots thumping after me, but I can’t stop. Not when that howl’s echoing in my skull, a mix of fury and something else—something that sounds like regret. It’s him. He’s close. Too close.

The forest looms ahead, pines swaying in the wind, and I freeze at the edge of the steps, my torn dress catching on a splintered rail. My heart’s a drumbeat, loud and wild, and I don’t know if I’m running from him or to him. The mate bond twists inside me, a thread I can’t snap, no matter how much I hate him for what he did. Hours ago, he was rejecting me in front of the pack, choosing Kathryn, screaming at me to leave. Now he’s out here, hunting me down? What does he want—to finish breaking me?

“Vivian!” Marcus grabs my arm, spinning me around. His grip’s firm but not bruising, and his storm-gray eyes lock on mine, sharp with urgency. “What the hell are you doing?”

“That’s him,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Clayton. He’s coming.”

“I know,” he says, low and steady, like it’s no surprise. “But running out there half-c****d isn’t the answer. Get back inside.”

I yank free, my wolf bristling at being told what to do. “You don’t get it. He’s my mate—ex-mate—whatever. I can feel him. I can’t just sit here.”

Marcus steps closer, towering over me but not crowding, his scent—pine and musk—cutting through the panic fogging my brain. “You’re right, I don’t get it. But I get that he’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve you bolting into the dark for him. You’re smarter than that.”

“Am I?” I laugh, bitter and shaky. “Because I feel pretty damn stupid right now. I trusted him, Marcus. I loved him. And he threw me away like trash.”

His jaw tightens, something flashing in his eyes—anger, maybe, or something deeper. “Then prove him wrong. Don’t give him the satisfaction of chasing you down.”

Another howl, closer now, sends a shiver down my spine. My wolf paces, claws out, and I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. “What if he finds us? What if he—”

“He won’t,” Marcus cuts in, his voice like steel. “Not tonight. This place is off his radar. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” I snap, spinning to face him fully. “I don’t even know you! You drag me here, throw out this crazy contract idea, and now he’s out there howling like he’s ready to rip someone apart. Why should I trust anything you say?”

“Because I’m not the one who broke you,” he says, softer now, and it hits like a punch. He’s right—Clayton did that. Not this stranger with the scarred eyebrow and the too-knowing smile. “And because I’m offering you a way out. But you’ve got to stop running long enough to take it.”

I stare at him, chest heaving, the cold seeping through my bare feet. The howl fades, swallowed by the wind, and I realize he’s right about one thing—I can’t keep running. Not from Clayton, not from myself. I sag against the railing, the fight draining out of me. “Fine,” I mutter. “But you’d better start explaining. What’s this contract really about?”

Marcus exhales, running a hand through his dark hair. “Inside,” he says, nodding toward the door. “Warmer in there, and I’ve got more bourbon. You’re gonna need it.”

I hesitate, glancing at the forest one last time, then follow him back in. The cabin’s warmth wraps around me like a blanket, and I sink onto the couch, pulling my knees up. Marcus grabs the bourbon bottle and refills my glass, then his own, settling into the chair across from me. The lamp casts shadows over his face, making him look older, harder—like he’s carried more than he lets on.

“Spill it,” I say, sipping the bourbon. It burns less this time, steadying my nerves. “Why me? Why now?”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, glass dangling between his fingers. “You’re Clayton’s weak spot. He rejected you, but he’s not done with you—not if that howl’s anything to go by. I need that leverage.”

“Leverage for what?” I press, narrowing my eyes. “You said revenge. Against who?”

“Someone who deserves it,” he says, dodging again, but there’s a weight to his words that makes my skin prickle. “Look, the pack’s a mess. Clayton’s running it into the ground—arrogant, reckless. I’ve got plans to fix that, but I can’t do it alone. You’re my in.”

“Your in,” I repeat, frowning. “So I’m what—a prop? A way to piss him off?”

“More than that,” he says, and his gaze softens, just for a second. “You’re a fighter, Vivian. I saw it in the bar, and I see it now. I need someone who can stand up to him, not just cower.”

I snort, shaking my head. “You’re delusional if you think I’m some badass. I’m a mess—I ran out here like an i***t five seconds ago.”

“You stopped,” he counters, smirking. “That’s more than most would do.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a flicker of warmth in my chest—pride, maybe, or something dangerously close to hope. “Okay, say I do this. What’s the plan? We just prance around pretending to be mates until he loses it?”

“Something like that,” he says, leaning back. “First step’s tomorrow. Pack meeting. We show up together, let them see you’re not broken. Let him see it.”

My stomach flips. “Tomorrow? I can’t—I’m not ready. They all saw me fall apart tonight.”

“Then we give them something new to talk about,” he says, voice smooth and sure. “You’re not the rejected omega anymore. You’re mine—at least to them.”

“Yours,” I murmur, the word tasting strange on my tongue. It’s fake, I know that, but the way he says it—low, possessive—sends a shiver through me I don’t want to admit. “And what happens when he tries to kill you for it?”

Marcus grins, sharp and reckless. “Let him try. I’m not easy to kill.”

I open my mouth to argue, but a sharp rap on the door cuts me off. My heart lurches, and Marcus’s grin vanishes, replaced by a predator’s stillness. He sets his glass down, slow and deliberate, and stands. “Stay here,” he says, voice a quiet command.

“Who—” I start, but he’s already moving, silent as a shadow. My wolf’s on edge, ears pricked, as he peers through the window, then curses under his breath.

“It’s not him,” he says, turning back to me, but his eyes are dark, wary. “It’s worse.”

“Worse than Clayton?” I scramble to my feet, pulse racing. “Who is it?”

He doesn’t answer, just strides to the door and yanks it open. A woman stands there—tall, blonde, her red lips curled in a smirk I’d know anywhere. Kathryn. My blood runs cold as she steps inside, her heels clicking like a countdown.

“Well, well,” she purrs, eyeing me like I’m roadkill, then Marcus like he’s a prize. “Isn’t this cozy? Vivian, you move fast.”

“What are you doing here?” I snap, my wolf growling low. She’s the last person I want to see—her lies, her glass stunt, her smug face as Clayton threw me out.

“Looking for you,” she says, tilting her head. “Clayton’s tearing the woods apart, and I figured I’d save him the trouble. But this—” She gestures between me and Marcus, laughing. “This is better than I hoped.”

Marcus steps between us, his frame a wall. “Get out,” he says, voice like ice. “You’re not welcome here.”

Kathryn’s smile widens, unfazed. “Oh, I’ll go. But not before I tell you something you’ll want to hear.”

She leaned in, her whisper chilling me to the bone. “Clayton’s not the only one hunting you tonight—and the other one’s already here.”