I blew on my tea, even though it had cooled a bit, and took another small sip as I sat curled up on Brayden’s couch. I wasn’t usually a tea fan, but the honey and lemon soothed my throat, and since Brayden had insisted, I was forcing it down.

Looking over to where my friend was busy putting together a platter of food in the kitchen, grabbing at least one of everything from the containers Charlemagne kept fully stocked for him and whatever friends dropped by, I felt a twinge of guilt. When Brayden had opened the door to see me standing on his stoop, the look on his face as his eyes latched on to what I now realized was a red stripe across my neck was one I’d never forget. And even now, as he paced across the kitchen, there was panic and worry written all over his face. I hated that I put those emotions there, that he even had to worry about me. Nothing I said convinced him that what had happened between Tor and me was consensual, especially not when he found out about the belt. Erotic asphyxiation, he’d called it. A form of “edgeplay” that was dangerous and that even someone as self-controlled as Tor should never attempt, since it could cause brain damage or even death.

That bit of knowledge had shaken me up a little, but I’d trusted that Tor knew what he was doing, and even now, I knew it hadn’t been done on purpose. It was an accident. I was fine, and it wouldn’t happen again.

Yeah, good luck telling Brayden that, I thought, as he carried out the huge platter of food and set it on the coffee table in front of me.

As if he could tell where my thoughts were, he said, “Has he contacted you?”

I glanced over at the cell phone resting beside the tray and shook my head. “No, not since the last time you asked five minutes ago.”

“Good.” He grabbed a chicken wing and flopped down on the couch next to me. When I didn’t move, he pointed at the food with the chicken. “You need to eat.”

“I’m finishing my tea.”

“And it’s taken you ten years to do that. It’ll be cold by the time you’re done with it.”

I smothered a sigh and took a couple of huge gulps of the drink to appease him, and then set it on its saucer. After scanning the smorgasbord of items piled onto the silver tray, I picked up a triangle sandwich and took a bite. Homemade egg salad. Tasty.

“Happy now?” I asked, when I’d consumed the whole thing.

“I’d be happier if you’d let me call the police.”

“Brayden, you’re not calling the fucking police. Don’t be stupid.”

“How am I being stupid? You got choked to unconsciousness, Jesse. That’s strangulation. Do you understand how dangerous that was?”

“I told him to,” I said, my defenses rising again. “He wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t given the okay.”

“Don’t turn this around and make it your fault. Don’t do that.”

“It’s just as much my fault as it is his.”

“But the difference is, he knows better. I can’t even believe someone like Salvatore would do something like that. He took advantage of you. Don’t give me that bullshit about you telling him you wanted it, because he knows you’re not in that world. He knows you have no fucking clue about any of this shit he’s trying with you, and what’s worse, now you’re defending him? He’s got you all twisted up, making you think you have the power when he’s had it all along.”

“That’s not true—”

“It is true,” Brayden said, throwing the chicken wing back on the tray and leaping off the couch. Then he began to pace, wearing a hole in the carpet like he couldn’t keep still. “He’s the fucking Wolfe. A guy who can do whatever he wants and get away with it, and why? Because he owns this city. Just like he owns you.”

I rubbed my forehead. “You’re overreacting. You of anyone know his world and what comes with it. He doesn’t scare me.”

“Maybe he should. He sent you away, didn’t he? Why do you think he did that, huh?”

I’d been asking myself the same question and hadn’t come up with an answer I liked.

“Because he knew what he did was fucked, that’s why,” Brayden said. “He could’ve killed you and he knows it. That’s why he yelled at you, why he wanted you gone. He doesn’t trust himself to be alone with you.”

The blood rushed in my ears as my heart pounded. That’s not true. It isn’t. It can’t be…

A humorless smile curved Brayden’s lips. “See? Even you know it. And you didn’t want to go home, because not only did you not want to be alone, you didn’t want to be where he could find you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” He crossed his arms, daring me to say otherwise. But nothing I said was going to appease him, not right now, anyway. I knew he was just looking out for me, but he didn’t know Tor like I did. The man was crazy about me. We’d just gotten lost in the heat of the moment.

“Look, we’re not going to agree on anything tonight, so why don’t you just sit back down and help me eat some of this. You can even turn on football if you want.”

Brayden’s mouth quirked. “It’s not football season.”

“Fine, then basketball or hockey or whatever else you like that’s on.” I needed something other than his judgment to fill up the vast room or I was going to go insane. Anything to get my mind off what had happened in the last few hours.

Brayden’s eyes narrowed, and then he pointed at me and said, “This isn’t over.”

“Fine. You can talk my head off tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

He sat back down at the opposite end of the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table, and then hit a button on the remote. As the loud chatter of commercials kicked on and Brayden began to flip through for something to watch, I let my mind wander.

What was Tor doing now? Was he still all alone in his empty condo? Or maybe he’d gone down to the Wolfe’s Den. He’d been angry, so angry, and what better way to work off aggression than to whip someone, right?

I didn’t want to think about that. The thought of him touching someone else made my stomach twist into knots and had bile rising in my throat. But as I looked back down at my phone, the blank screen taunted me. He hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Not a word in hours. When would I hear from him again?

“Is that okay with you?” Brayden asked, and I looked over to him.

“Uh, sorry. Is what okay?”

“Enter the Dragon is on, is that cool?” When I stared at him blankly, he said, “Dude, Bruce Lee. You’ve never seen it?” I shook my head and his mouth fell open. “What the… Okay, yeah. We’re watching this.”

Shrugging, I grabbed another sandwich. I didn’t care what he wanted to watch; I was just grateful for the subject change.

Martial arts movies for me were as brain-numbing as it got, and even as I tried to lose myself in the film, my mind drifted, only to be snapped back into sharp focus as one of the characters greeted the lead, calling him Lee.

I’ve got you, Lee…

My hand froze as the words Tor had spoken right before I lost consciousness emerged full force. I’d forgotten, or maybe I thought I’d been hearing things, but now I remembered with clarity Tor saying those words. Lost in the moment, he’d called me Lee. Wasn’t that what the nutso woman at the café this afternoon had said her brother was named? Lee…Wood, was it?

Suddenly, I had to know. Dropping the rest of the sandwich back on the tray, I threw off the blanket and got to my feet. “Where’s your laptop?” I asked.

“Charging in my room. Why?”

I took off up the stairs and grabbed the laptop from his desk, and when I came back down, Brayden eyed me curiously.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I remembered something someone said to me today. I just need to check and see…” I opened the laptop, and when I saw it was password protected, I handed it off to Brayden.

“You’re not emailing him, are you?”

“No, I’m not emailing him.”

He typed in his password and gave it back to me, and as I brought up a search engine, I realized my hands were shaking.

There’s nothing to be worried about. She was just talking nonsense. But it doesn’t hurt to check.

I sucked my lower lip into my mouth, and it still smarted from where Tor had pierced the skin earlier. What had she called Tor? Something Covington? Todd?

I typed out Todd Covington and hit enter. Scrolling through the pages of articles and websites related to the search, I didn’t see anything that would be remotely related to Tor, and after several minutes, I relaxed a little.

“What are you doing?”

I looked up over the screen and met Brayden’s gaze. “Research.”

“So if I turned that screen around, I’d see dinosaurs and shit?”

“Um. Not that kind of research.”

“Jesse, man. Spit it out.”

Knowing he was about two seconds away from grabbing the laptop away from me, I relented. “This woman was staring at me today while I was at lunch with Tor. When he stepped outside to take a call, she came over and tried to tell me his name was really something else and that he’d dated her brother. I told her she had the wrong guy, but she swore it was him.”

Brayden frowned. “What did she say his name was?”

“I think she said it was Todd? Todd Covington? But I’m searching it now and I don’t see anything. Maybe it was something else. Ted…? Tyler? No, that’s not it. I can’t remember. But she called her brother Lee, and I forgot about it until now.”

“Does Lee show up in the search?”

“I don’t know.” I typed in Lee Wood and, when about a million hits came through, gave a frustrated sigh. “This is going to take forever. She was probably lying.”

“Or not.” Brayden turned down the volume of the movie and scooted closer so he could see the screen. “You have to narrow it down. Type in Lee Wood, Westport.”

Something niggled at the back of my brain, but I typed it in anyway. We spent the next thirty minutes going through different combinations, adding both their names, the city, looking to see if anything showed up. Then we looked up Salvatore Wolfe, and though he had a vast online presence, there was nothing regarding his dating history, no one connected with either of those names.

“Has Salvatore always lived here? Has he ever mentioned his past before?”

“I don’t know. All I remember is he said…” I trailed off as a conversation we’d had weeks ago popped into my mind. “Um… Is there somewhere called Hazard in Oregon?”

“Hazard? Yeah. It’s a small ass-backwards town a few hours away. Why?”

“Hang on.”

As soon as I typed in Lee Wood and Hazard, Oregon, several obituaries popped up, as well as newspaper articles. I clicked on the first one and skimmed over it as Brayden read over my shoulder.

Over the last several weeks, many concerned citizens in Hazard have reached out to the Standard regarding the mysterious circumstances surrounding Lee Michael Wood’s death at the age of sixteen. Before now, there has been no public statement by the family, prompting speculation of foul play. But the Wood family, who own Pacific Timber, the largest timber company in the state, have sought to put those rumors to rest by revealing Lee’s cause of death as an undiagnosed heart condition. They ask that you respect their privacy at this time as they grieve their loss.

“You don’t think that’s who she meant, do you? He was only sixteen,” Brayden said, sitting back.

“Yeah, probably not. I don’t think Tor’s into underage guys.”

“Hey…check out the date. That was twenty-two years ago.”

I looked at the top corner, and sure enough, the article was dated over two decades prior.

“How old is Salvatore?”

“He’ll be thirty-eight in a couple months.”

“Huh.” Brayden’s forehead creased. “So he would’ve been about sixteen then too. Maybe he and this Lee guy were high school sweethearts.”

“That’s kind of reaching, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. What else shows up?”

I clicked the back button and scrolled down, but every link but one—for a recently deceased eighty-five-year-old—led back to the teenaged Lee Wood and his untimely death. Apparently, it’d been a big scandal back then, judging from the number of articles about it.

“I guess small towns love to gossip,” I said. “If it’s anything like my hometown, every Tom, Dick, and Harry would be talking about— Wait. Shit, that’s it.” I went back to the search bar and typed in Tom Covington, Lee Wood, Hazard, Oregon. Yet again, all of the results linked back to Lee Wood. All except for one.

The candid newspaper photo that popped up of several teens was grainy, but I could still make out the strong bone structure and penetrating eyes that belonged to Tor. My Tor. His hair was a bit longer, not styled back the way he wore it now, and he was leaner, not quite as muscular, though he still towered over everyone else. The tagline underneath the photo read:

Hazard High School students Brock Lloyd, Lee Wood, Tom Covington, and Michelle Overton help pass out frozen turkeys to needy families at the school’s annual Thanksgiving Turkey Giveaway, sponsored in part by Pacific Timber.

My heart swelled a little that even back then, he’d been taking care of others. That was the Tor I knew.

“Damn,” Brayden said. “That’s him. That’s definitely Salvatore.”

“Yeah, it is.” I couldn’t stop staring at the younger Tor, wondering what he’d been like back then. Had he still been so serious and the leader of every crowd? Or had he cracked a smile every now and again and gotten in trouble like a normal teenager? Seeing the photo only made me want to know more about him, especially now that I knew he’d definitely changed his name to become Salvatore Wolfe. The man was an enigma, one I hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of. Glancing over at my still-silent phone, I wondered if I’d still have a chance to ask.

“So the guy next to him is Lee, huh?” Brayden said, breaking me out of my thoughts before they turned morose.

“Looks like it.” According to the caption, Lee was standing to Tor a.k.a. Tom’s left, but he wasn’t facing the camera as he passed a turkey to Tor, assembly-line style. Lee’s obituary, as well as most of the articles regarding his death, hadn’t contained photos, bar the ones of his family that seemed to be taken before he hit puberty. Did he really look like me, like his sister had said? I couldn’t tell in the black-and-white photo, even though he seemed to have light hair, but that was probably where the similarities ended. I normally went for dark-haired men, so Tor having a preference wasn’t exactly surprising. But Lee’s sister said they’d dated…and Tor never dated. Had she been lying about that? And if so, why? She’d told the truth about Tor’s real name, but there wasn’t anything online about Lee and Tom together. Then again, why would there be? It wasn’t like Brayden’s exes were listed on a website somewhere.

“Wonder why he changed his name,” Brayden said.

“I don’t know. Lots of people change their names. Celebrities do it all the time.”

“Salvatore’s a rich guy, but he’s not really on that level, Jesse. Why would a guy like that change his name?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know, but there had to be a good reason. “Maybe he changed it because the Wolfe’s Den doesn’t sound as catchy as Covington’s Den.”

Brayden tipped his head to the side. “Maybe… But don’t you think it’s a little weird that some random person came up to you just to tell you he dated her brother? Like, who does that?”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“And?”

I met his eyes. “I don’t know, but I feel like maybe she didn’t approve of their relationship. And from the way she first looked at us, I’m pretty sure I can guess why.”

“Ah.” Brayden nodded. “Small town, rich family, twenty-two years ago…smells like a homophobic problem.”

“Exactly. If people from his past gave him a hard time for it, I wouldn’t blame him for moving and starting over. I know I would.”

Brayden let out a heavy sigh and leaned over to shut the laptop. “Jesse. Regardless of who he was then, it’s who he is now that matters. Don’t go getting all sympathetic for that guy. You know. The one who almost killed you.”

“Will you stop saying that?”

“Just reminding you of the facts. I see you moonin’ over your phone. He’s not good for you, man. The sooner you get that, the sooner you can get over him.”

No, I wanted to say. There would be no “getting over him,” even as much as Brayden tried to convince me otherwise. What happened tonight had been a mistake, an accident, one I knew he’d never repeat, and though I was still a little shaken from it, it was more because of Tor’s reaction than anything else.

So I kept my mouth shut, because if I didn’t, the alternative would only lead to another argument, and I didn’t want to argue with Brayden. At least not tonight.

What I wanted was to understand the boy in the picture, and I wanted to know everything about what made him the man he was today. Because that was what you did when you cared about someone, right? You told each other your secrets and trusted each other, and you didn’t give up on them because you hit a bump in the road.

Maybe tomorrow I’d be ready to talk to Tor. Maybe it would be later this week. But one thing was for sure—I wasn’t giving up on us.

* * *

I should’ve known better. I should’ve known that if I sent my lamb away wounded, he’d seek shelter where he felt safest. And since I’d taken myself out of that equation, of course his next place of sanctuary had been up at Breakaway Point with Brayden Fairchild.

As I pressed my foot to the gas pedal of my Aston Martin and began the ascent up the steep mountainside, my mood matched the black sky looming overhead as storm clouds rolled in off the Pacific to cling to the dense forest bordering the treacherous curves of the narrow road.

It was Sunday night, a little over twenty-four hours since the entrance to hell had opened up in my condo and decided to try and reclaim me, along with my newest subject—and it had been close. It had almost succeeded in dragging Jesse down to its very depths, but before that happened, I’d been reminded of what exactly that place looked like.

Pale faces…

Blank eyes…

A face devoid of any emotion because the one I took the journey with no longer lived and walked beside me with the darkest secret a soul could house.

That was what hell looked like. I knew because I’d been there before, only to emerge from it more broken than I’d been going in, and alone. I couldn’t forget that. The first and only other time it had happened, I had emerged from the most corrupt part of my being—alone.

I’d known better than to go after Jesse when my mood had been as dark as it was last night, so sending him on his way had been the kindest thing I could’ve done after he’d awoken disoriented and confused. It was best to let him resurface in the comfort of his own home, around familiar belongings, than for him to try and make sense of what we had done and what had gone wrong while still at the scene of the almost-crime. Plus, I didn’t trust myself around him. I didn’t trust myself not to convince him to try again, and his ingenious nature made him naturally susceptible. After all, I’d taken the shape of everything he was drawn to. I’d tapped into his most sordid fantasies and made him want to live them. I’d made myself his every desire. I finally had Jesse where I wanted him.

As I took a right turn and navigated the vehicle up the next section of the mountain, rain began to fall against my windshield as I thought back to the phone call I’d made to Jesse around forty minutes earlier—the one that had been answered by Brayden.

“I’m not going to bother with bullshit hellos. He doesn’t want to see you. Stop calling him.”

Orders…I was familiar with both giving and having them followed. The key was to always issue them to someone who would obey. Not to issue them to someone who would take it as a direct challenge. Unfortunately for Brayden, his skill at determining which of those two categories I fell into was sorely lacking, which he would soon discover when I brought his challenge directly to his goddamn door.

When I reached the top plateau of the mountain, where the driveways were short dirt paths off the main road to the gated properties that wound down to the main homes nestled on the hillside, I directed my car past the driveway I’d seen Jesse pull Pretty Baby into weeks ago. I chose to park my car down on the shoulder where I’d left my Range Rover the night I’d tracked Jesse back to Brayden’s house.

You want me to stop calling, do you? Then how about I just pay you a visit instead, Mr. Fairchild. Up here on your mountainside.

The sky opened up overhead as I switched off the engine and extinguished the headlights, and as the car plunged into the darkness of the stormy night, I zipped up my hoodie and tugged up the black hood. I shoved open the car door, and the gravel crunched under my sneakers as I straightened and looked around the deserted road. It was a fair bet that not many people would be using the roadway tonight. It was a hazardous road under the best conditions, but under ones like tonight, no one dared make the trek up to Breakaway Point unless they had no other choice.

I locked the car and stuffed the keys into my pocket, then looked out at the thick scrub and pines that covered the precipitous drop down the side of the mountain. The rain was falling harder now, and if it hadn’t been for the storm brewing above, I would’ve taken off down there like I had that first night. Instead, I shoved my hands in my pockets, made my way back up the road to Brayden’s driveway, and walked up to the iron gate that protected the property. I studied it for a minute, before looking to my left and then my right, searching for and finding, ah yes, a place for me to climb over it.

A little way down to the right of the towering fence was a tree whose branches I knew I could get up on with little to no effort, and two minutes later, I was over the first line of defense.

Stupid little shit. Did he really think he could keep me from my lamb? Did he really think I would let Jesse go so easily? I had sent him away last night to save him from himself. To save him from me. But now that I was back in control, it was time to get back the one I controlled.

My feet landed with a thump on the damp undergrowth littering Brayden’s property, and I narrowed my eyes, taking in my surroundings as I set off down the drive that led to the house. The good thing about the ostentatious homes up here was that they were spread out on several acres of land. That meant no one was around. Which, in turn, meant no witnesses.

I glanced at my watch. It had just turned nine forty—late-ish, but not late enough that these two would be asleep—and as I approached Brayden’s home, my determination to leave with Jesse set in tenfold.

The rain had soaked through the hoodie by this stage, but it didn’t faze me in the slightest. I approached the house and made a mental note of the large glass windows on the lower floor and balcony on the second that jutted out over the front door. Two thick columns flanked the front entrance, and as I stepped up onto the small porch, I pushed my finger to the doorbell. I doubted Brayden had video security on this property. First, because I hadn’t seen any cameras, and I had been looking both nights I’d been here. And second, because he believed that up here behind his security fence of iron, he was safe. That might’ve been the case—before I walked into his life.

Footsteps made their way up to the front door, and as I suspected, Brayden didn’t hesitate to open it, figuring I was one of his neighbors or friends with the code or some shit.

As he swung the door wide, Brayden Fairchild came into view. Dressed in grey sweatpants and a red Westport University t-shirt that clung to his well-developed muscles, he appeared exactly what he was—a college jock living on Mom and Dad’s dime—and the second his brown eyes rose to connect with mine, he reared back and tried to slam the door.

Quick as a viper, I struck, slapping my palm on the door and shoving it open, my eyes zeroing in on him, taking his measure, and like any animal caught in the crosshairs of fight and flight, I could see a decision warring. Do I stay or do I go? Then, right before my eyes, Brayden grew a set of balls to match my own.

He clenched his teeth, and his jaw tightened to the point where it ticked as he took the two strides needed so he was out the door and on the porch opposite me.

“How’d you get in here?” he demanded as he pulled the door shut, widened his stance, and crossed his arms. A show of bravado if ever I saw one. But what he didn’t know was that, if I wanted, I could be inside his house without his knowledge, tracking down Jesse before they even realized I’d entered. He was lucky I’d given him the courtesy of coming to his front door.

Not in the least bit intimidated by this boy, I glanced over my shoulder to the winding drive. “You need better security.”

“What I need to do is call the police,” Brayden said. “You’ve got some nerve showing your face around here after what you did to him.”

“Where is he?” I asked, not caring in the slightest about his threat, now focused on my end game—finding Jesse.

“Somewhere you can’t get to him.”

The water from my soaked hoodie dripped down my temple as I glared at the human barricade between me and what I wanted, and I wasn’t above removing him if that was what was required.

“You need to fucking leave,” Brayden said through gritted teeth, and I almost felt sorry for him. He was trying so hard to be brave, but the way his eyes kept darting over my shoulder told me he was looking to see if he was as alone as he felt—and yes, he was.

“And if I don’t? You and what army are going to make me?” When he said nothing, I cocked my head. “Did you really think that gate of yours would keep me from him? Brayden, you know better than that.”

“Don’t talk to me like you fucking know me.”

I pushed my hood back, and as my soaked hair and face came into view, Brayden took a step back. That’s right, you little fucker, this is not the Wolfe you know. Best beware.

“Your name is Brayden Elliott Fairchild. You’re twenty-two years old and recently graduated with a communications degree from Westport University. You’re an only child and your parents came into wealth through their computer software company. You’re on track to follow in your father’s footsteps and aren’t happy about it, so you’re dragging your feet. You’re also a man whore. One who was recently granted membership to the Wolfe’s Den so you could stick your dick in both the men and women of my fine establishment. Trust me, I know you better than you know yourself.”

“So you did a background check—”

“I did three.”

“That doesn’t mean jackshit, and it still doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t getting inside and you aren’t going to see him.” Brayden narrowed his eyes, as his nervousness was replaced with misguided courage. “How’s it feel knowing he ran from you to come to me? I bet that really pisses you off. You don’t like people touching what’s yours, from what I’ve heard.”

It did piss me off, and the way he was goading me was also pissing me off. My irritation over what I’d allowed to happen yesterday had been eating at me all day, and then this fucker’s nerve to hang up on me had sent it to its boiling point, and now… Now he was just asking for me to fucking explode. “Where. Is. He?”

“Inside. But he doesn’t want to see you. So fuck off.”

I took a menacing step forward, and Brayden was smart enough to back the fuck up until he hit the door. I reached forward and took hold of his t-shirt. Both of his hands came up to grab at my wrist, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I yanked him forward and snarled an inch from his face, “You know what’s good about a red t-shirt, Brayden? No one sees when you bleed.”

Brayden swallowed, but then glared me down, refusing to cower. “So what are you going to do? Break my nose? Break my arm? Dislocate it, maybe? I hear you’re good at that.”

A sinister growl left my throat. Brayden knew he was pushing me, was doing it on purpose now, wanting me to react, playing me to make me snap so Jesse would remain his forever. Not fucking likely. “Remember who it is that you’re talking to, pup.”

“And who would that be? Salvatore Wolfe?” he asked. “Or Tom Covington?”

At the use of my birth name, I stilled, but didn’t flinch. I didn’t show an ounce of surprise that he knew it. But that was a new development. One that I hadn’t seen coming. How had he found that name when so very few people knew it? And if Jesse also knew, what was he thinking? Nothing I couldn’t fix, that I was certain of. Plenty of people changed their names. It was the reason why I had changed mine that was alarming. But money and power had buried that secret. And I knew that this boy wouldn’t have been able to unearth that within a day.

Brayden was trying to shock me, gain the upper hand. The problem was I was un-shockable.

With my free hand, I reached forward and clasped the back of his neck. I dug my fingers into the side of it, letting my nails pierce the skin in some spots, enough that he winced as I twisted his shirt in my fist. “Tell Jesse he knows where to find me when he wants to talk.”

Brayden tugged at the hand on his shirt again, struggling to break free, and this time I shoved him back, not willing to do something that would drive my lamb away for good.

“Sure I will.”

My eyes shifted to the windows flanking the right side of the house, as I wondered where inside Jesse was, and then they came back to Brayden, who now had his back plastered to the door. His chest was rising and falling, and his eyes were wide with a heavy dose of terror, if I had to guess. He was right to be scared of me—he was the only thing that stood between a Wolfe and his lamb, and in my experience, that usually resulted in a fight to the death. “He will seek me out whether you tell him or not.”

“Not if I can help it, he won’t.”

“Be careful, Brayden,” I said as I took a step off the porch, the gravel crunching under my feet, much like the way I wanted to crush Brayden’s skull between my hands. “And sleep with one eye open tonight. You have such lax security around this place.”

Brayden jutted his chin in the air. “You don’t scare me.”

I dropped my gaze down to the hand he now had white-knuckling the doorknob. “Yes, I do,” I said as a lethal smile twisted my lips, and then I disappeared into the shadows, where all nightmares lurked until it was time to come out and wreak havoc on one’s mind.