Double Trouble, Triple Heat

Chapter 10

The town limits are three miles away.

I watch the odometer tick down, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Two miles. One and a half. The golden thread in my chest stretches tighter with every second, but I ignore the ache. Mind over matter. I've survived worse than supernatural heartache.

One mile.

The engine sputters.

"No." I press the gas harder. "No, no, no—"

The car coughs, lurches, and dies.

I coast to a stop on the side of the road, surrounded by nothing but trees and darkness and the crushing weight of silence. The key turns in the ignition again and again, but the engine won't catch. Won't even try.

"Goddammit!"

I slam my palm against the steering wheel. Then I try the key again. Nothing. The car is dead, and I'm stranded half a mile from freedom.

The glowing thread flares hot.

They're here.

I don't know how I know, but I do. The same way I knew Caspian was the silver wolf, the same way I recognized Dominic's scent on the firewood. Some part of me that isn't quite human anymore senses them before my eyes do.

I get out of the car.

They're standing at the treeline, ten feet away. Dominic and Caspian, stepping from shadow like they were born from it. Moonlight catches the amber of Dominic's eyes, makes them glow like molten gold. Caspian's silver gaze tracks my every movement, something hungry in his expression that makes my breath catch.

Neither looks surprised to see me.

"You can't leave," Dominic says flatly. "The bond won't let you."

I lift my chin. "Watch me."

I turn and start walking toward the town line. One step. Two. Three.

The pain hits on the fourth step—the golden thread pulling tight, burning. By the tenth step, I'm gasping for air. By the twentieth, agony radiates through my chest like someone's reached inside and grabbed my heart with a fist.

My knees buckle.

Arms catch me before I hit the ground.

Caspian. His chest is solid and warm against my back, his breath hot against my ear. Even through the pain, my body responds to his nearness—heat blooming where his hands grip my waist, my pulse racing for reasons that have nothing to do with fear.

"Stop fighting it, little star," he murmurs, lips brushing my temple. "You're only hurting yourself."

"Let go of me."

"If I let go, you'll fall." His arms tighten, pulling me closer. "And I don't ever want to see you fall."

The pain recedes as I stop struggling. Being close to them helps. I hate that it helps.

Dominic approaches slowly, like I'm a wild thing he doesn't want to spook. He crouches in front of me, putting himself at eye level. This close, I can see the strain in his jaw, the way his hands flex like he's physically stopping himself from reaching for me. This close, I can smell him—cedar and smoke and something wild that makes my blood heat.

"We didn't do this to you," he says roughly. "The bond chose. We don't control it any more than you do."

"Then unchoose me." I hate how my voice breaks. "I didn't ask for this. Any of it."

"Neither did we." His hand lifts toward my face, hovers there, drops without touching. The restraint in that gesture—the obvious effort it costs him—makes something clench in my chest. "Do you think I wanted this? To want someone so much it feels like dying? To lie awake every night knowing you're alone in that cabin, knowing I could be there, knowing you'd let me in if I just—"

He stops. Swallows hard.

"We've waited our whole lives for you, Sera. Both of us. And you were worth every second of it."

Caspian presses his lips to my hair—brief, reverent. "Ask us anything," he murmurs. "We'll tell you everything. Just... don't run. Please."

I shouldn't stay. Shouldn't let them hold me like this, shouldn't feel safe when I should feel terrified.

But I'm so tired of being scared.

"What was my mother?" The question comes out broken. "Really?"

They exchange a look over my head—one of those wordless conversations I'm beginning to recognize. A whole language I can't speak.

"Lena was a Prime," Dominic says finally. "The rarest kind of wolf. One born maybe once a generation. She was meant to unite the packs, to bring peace after centuries of conflict."

"She was powerful," Caspian adds softly. "And beautiful. Everyone loved her."

"But she didn't unite anyone."

"She fell in love with a human." Dominic's jaw tightens. "With your father. And she ran from her responsibilities, from her pack, from everything she was supposed to be."

"My father loved her. He wouldn't—"

"Your father hunted wolves." The words are quiet, final. "Our kind. For decades. He was one of the best hunters in the northeast. Dozens of wolves died by his hand before he met Lena."

The world tilts. No. My father was cold, distant, absent—but a killer? A murderer of wolves?

"You're lying."

"We've never lied to you, Sera." Caspian's voice is gentle against my ear, his arms still holding me steady. "We couldn't, even if we wanted to. The bond doesn't allow it."

I want to argue. Want to defend the man who raised me, however poorly.

But I think about his absences. The scars he never explained. The way he flinched whenever I asked about my mother.

Oh god. What if it's true?

"I need to think," I manage. "I need—"

"We'll take you home," Dominic says. Not her cabin. Home. Like it's already decided. "No pressure. No demands. Just let us know you're safe."

I should refuse. Should find a way to fix my car and drive until I hit an ocean.

Instead, I nod.

They help me to my feet—Caspian's hands lingering on my waist, Dominic's palm warm against my lower back. The touch sends sparks across my skin, and I hate how much I want more.

The drive back is silent. I sit between them in Dominic's truck, hyperaware of every brush of thigh against thigh, every charged glance. Neither speaks, but I feel them through the bond—concern and want and something fiercer underneath.

At my cabin door, Dominic catches my wrist before I can escape inside.

His thumb traces my pulse point, slow and deliberate. He knows exactly how fast my heart is racing. Can probably hear it pounding against my ribs.

"There's something else," he says, voice dropping low. "Something you're not telling us. I can see it on your face."

His golden eyes drop to my stomach. Caspian goes still behind me.

"Sera–" Dominic's voice roughens with something that sounds like awe. "Are you hiding something from us?"

My hand flies to my belly, protective and instinctive. Something raw and possessive flashes across his face—hunger and wonder and a fierce determination that steals my breath. They cannot know. Not until I know who the father is.

Caspian makes a sound behind me, something between a gasp and a growl. His hand hovers near my shoulder, trembling with the effort not to touch.

"Your breathing is," His voice cracks. "Why are you so tense? Sera, you’re safe with us. Are you–"

"Tomorrow." I back toward the door, trembling. "We'll talk tomorrow. I can't—I need to think."

Neither of them moves to stop me. But the way they watch me retreat—like I'm carrying something infinitely precious, something they'd burn the world to protect—makes my chest ache.

I close the door between us and lean against it, hand pressed to my stomach, the ghost of Dominic's touch still burning on my wrist.

They know about the baby.

And from the look in their eyes—that terrifying, beautiful hunger—tomorrow is going to change everything.