Page 31 of Hunted By the Wolves
Jackson stepped forward from the Lions’ cluster, his brothers moving with him as one unit.“We can go to Seattle.Talk to her directly.”
The words were out before Riley had time to process what they meant.Confrontation.Proximity.The risk of turning something observational into something explosive.
Victor frowned.“Not yet.”
Ivan shook his head once.“Too early.Too visible.”
The Lions did not hide their displeasure.
Jackson’s jaw tightened.“If she’s about to blow the lid off this—”
“—then we don’t push her,” Victor cut in.“Not until we know what she actually has.”
Silence stretched, brittle.
Rafe finally spoke.“We do what we always do.We observe.We gather.We prepare.”His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it.“We do not escalate without cause.”
The Lions didn’t argue further, but Riley saw it in the set of their shoulders, in the way Jackson’s hands curled into fists at his sides.They were predators being told to wait, and they did not like that.
“All right,” Victor said again, softer this time.“We’ve all had a day.We stand down for the night.Tomorrow, we reassess.”
One by one, the tension eased into movement.Consoles powered down.Chairs were pushed back.The room shifted from crisis to something like controlled aftermath.
Rafe’s hand found Riley’s elbow.“Come on.”
Dorian didn’t speak, but he stayed close as they left Command, guiding her toward the lifts that would take them down to the Wolves’ floor.
The ride was quiet.Not awkward.Just full.
When the doors opened onto their level, the air felt different—softer, less intense than that of the command center.The corridor lights were dimmed, the space designed for living rather than response.
They walked together without speaking until they reached the doors to their penthouse.
Inside, the world seemed to exhale.
Riley stood just inside the entry, suddenly unsure what to do with the weight in her chest.The adrenaline from Command had drained, leaving something raw in its wake.
“I was scared,” she said finally.
Both of them turned toward her at once.
“Watching you out there,” she continued, words tumbling now that they’d begun.“Seeing the feed.Seeing how close—” Her voice faltered.“When that strike only just missed you, Dorian, I thought I was going to pass out.”
He stared at her, something unreadable in his eyes.
“Fuck it,” he practically growled.“I will be so fucking pissed if I die not knowing what you taste like.”
He closed the space between them instead, stepping directly into her, into her breath.His hand came to her cheek, not tentative, not possessive—simply there.When he kissed her, it wasn’t hurried.It was warm and deliberate, a meeting rather than a taking.The world narrowed to sensation, the steady pressure of his mouth, the quiet certainty in the way he held her, the way the fear in her chest eased into something else entirely.
When he drew back, her hands were trembling.
He turned her gently.
Rafe was already there.
His kiss was different.Deeper.Anchoring.Where Dorian had been warmth and reassurance, Rafe was gravity—solid, unyielding in a way that made her feel held even after his mouth left hers.
She didn’t know how to breathe for a moment.
