“Not about that. About the Wild Eight, the other four remaining members’ whereabouts and motivations, how that pertains to the vampires’ plans, and”—he paused, reluctant to place his next request—“and anything you may have heard from them about me.”
She didn’t seem to notice the gravity of that last statement or what it had taken for him to ask it. “You? The only thing I’ve heard from the Wild Eight about you has little to do with the vampires.”
“What is it you’ve heard about me?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and her hip jutted out to one side slightly as if her patience with him was limited. “That you’re as loyal to the Grey Wolves as you are deadly to your enemies.”
So the truth…
“And?” he prompted.
That you’re not a Grey Wolf… He waited for those words to pass her lips.
She hesitated, but finally she answered, “And that you’re as much of a rake in the bedroom as you are a lethal warrior on the battlefield.”
He chuckled. Nothing he hadn’t been accused of before. “And do I live up to my reputation?” Curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn’t help but ask.
A blush warmed her cheeks. “I can’t really speak to that.”
Yet. He fought down an aroused growl. Changing the subject, he crossed over to the nearby bookshelf and feigned scanning the titles. He’d always been a reader. The classics, those were his favorites, but as of late, he hadn’t had the time. “And my other questions?”
“I don’t have answers. I’m not involved with the Wild Eight anymore,” she said.
“This kind of attack isn’t done spur of the moment. The vampires had to have been planning this for some time, and you know they were heavily involved with the Wild Eight at the start of the war. The planning would likely have taken place shortly before you left.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her shrug. “If so, I wasn’t clued in.”
He drew closer to her, using his size and position to intimidate. Maybe she’d prove more forthcoming if he reminded her of the power dynamic here. She was his prisoner after all. Deal or not. But as he prowled toward her, she didn’t so much as blink an eye. “If you give answers like that to the Seven Range Pact, you’re never going to convince them, Belle, and then I won’t be able to help you.”
Her brows drew low as her eyes narrowed. “I can’t answer something I don’t know.”
He didn’t believe that for a second. “You can’t tell me you spent three years with them and don’t have a single bit of useful information. Think, Belle. Is there something, anything you can remember?”
She was quickly losing patience with him. He could see it from the flush on her neck. This was what he’d missed, the sight of her flustered and on the verge of wanting to throttle him. Passion was what their little word wars brought about in her. He could see it as clear as day. Belle Beaumont was practically bursting with restrained, unused passion.
“I told you. I don’t know anything.”
“Spoken like a true Wild Eight,” he shot back. He said it as much to rile her as he did because it was true. It was clear where her loyalties lay.
She stepped toward him, the two of them nearly nose to nose. Her hands clenched into fists. Her features twisted with anger and resentment, and to Colt’s surprise, tears gathered in her eyes. “I’m not Wild Eight. I’ve never been Wild Eight, and I am nothing like them.” She turned away to hide her emotion.
He’d never intended to make her cry. He glanced in the mirror above the fireside mantel. Staring at his reflection, his gaze traced over the hard features of his face. He looked so much like his birth father in that moment that it pained him. More than usual. It was in the shape of his eyes, the line of his chin, the straight edge of his nose. And if making an indelible powerhouse of a woman like Belle Beaumont cry didn’t prove he was just as much of a monster as the man who’d sired him, he didn’t know what did.
“You wouldn’t believe me,” she whispered. Her back was turned toward him, and her shoulders trembled. “No one ever believes me.”
He’d never seen such a pained, visceral reaction from a prisoner in response to simple questioning, not in all his days. Wolves were violent, enraged, predatory when cornered and threatened with a loss of their freedom, but she didn’t appear to be any of those things. Yes, she was angry, but she also looked sad, defeated, like a woman who’d been broken one too many times.
He’d seen that look before. In the eyes of his mother. Not Sonya, but his real mother, before her death. When she would come home from time spent with his monster of a sire. She’d pay the babysitter, then tuck him into bed, and when she thought he was good and asleep, that he couldn’t hear her, she’d lock herself in her room, crying herself to sleep.
The sounds still haunted him at night.
“Try me,” he urged.
Reluctantly, Belle took a deep, calming breath, but she still refused to look at him. “They forced me to join. I was a Rogue.”
A Rogue. Like his mother had been. The confession instantly softened him to her plea—and Colt never softened. Not for anyone.
The missing pieces from her file fell into place. That was why there was no record of her. When she said she’d worked the rodeo, he thought that must have been a brief absence from her pack life with the Wild Eight, but there was no record of her anywhere in the Grey Wolf files before three years prior, which meant she hadn’t been born Wild Eight. She’d been taken in, and if what she said was true, she’d been taken into the pack by force.
From his childhood, he knew firsthand the way the Wild Eight had taken advantage of Rogue wolves desperate for a pack, pulling Rogues into their ranks, making them dependent like the true abusers the Wild Eight were. Rogue she-wolves were the most vulnerable. Though stronger than humans, most were physically weaker than the males of their species and far less violent. Easy targets. The memories of his early years were riddled with dark, painful images of how much the Wild Eight could hurt and manipulate a woman, the things they would do to break her.
And how brutal the punishment was when she didn’t obey. He’d learned that lesson the hard way the night his mother died, the night James took him.
“You were their captive?” he asked.
“They didn’t keep me in chains, if that’s what you mean, but I had no choice but to stay.”
He waited in silence, hoping she would elaborate.
She released a shaky breath. “They would have come after me if I left…and…and there was an old she-wolf there, Dalia.”
“Dalia Maxwell.” He nodded. Wyatt and Eli Maxwell’s ancient great-aunt. The woman was no enemy of his, just unfortunately a relative of two of the Wild Eight’s members. She’d only been involved in the pack when she’d become so sickly that the charge of her care fell to her asshole nephews. As far as the Grey Wolves knew, the old woman had been bedridden for years. No threat to the current Grey Wolves, but still Colt knew of her. He’d memorized the name of every member of his enemy pack before they’d fallen.
Belle nodded. “She…she was in really poor health. She should have been in hospice, but they didn’t care for her the way they should have. She was kind to me, and I never knew my own grandmother. If…if I’d left, she would have…” Belle’s voice cracked.
Her sniffling was answer enough. Colt forced himself to look away. The sight of her quivering lip made him hurt, deep in places where he hadn’t even known he could feel pain anymore.
“I didn’t stay for me,” she whispered. “I stayed because I couldn’t stand the thought of them neglecting Dalia, abandoning her to die alone.”
She could be lying to save her own skin, but he believed her. It went against everything in him to trust a woman who was supposed to be his enemy, but he did.
“I believe you,” he breathed. He couldn’t understand it even as he sai
d it.
“You do?” Her eyes grew wide as she faced him. Her question was so full of raw hope that Colt knew she was telling the truth. Fuck. This would have been easier if she were a true member of his enemy pack, but it wasn’t that cut and dried. The hope that quivered in her voice both made his chest ache and filled him with contempt at the thought of any man threatening an innocent woman.
“It wouldn’t surprise me that they’d take advantage of a Rogue she-wolf—or treat an old woman badly for that matter. The Wild Eight were monsters.” He knew that firsthand. In more ways than he cared to admit. He lived with that reality every day. “Being a physician would make you a desirable target.”
She stepped toward him. Even with her eyes red and puffy from crying, she was still breathtaking, so beautiful, it nearly hurt to look at her. To make matters worse, if his childhood had taught him anything about women who had been hurt as badly as she’d been, that meant she had no idea the power she held in just that single look. She didn’t have a clue what she was truly worth, because likely no one had ever told her.
And that was even more dangerous.
Because Colt wanted to tell her, to make her see. “I’m not your enemy,” he said.
The desperation and surprise in her features was clear.
Realization flooded over him. Deep in his instincts, maybe somehow, he’d known from the start. From the moment he’d realized who she was, his instincts had been trying to tell him she was innocent, and he’d missed the memo. He’d done this woman wrong without knowing it.
And he couldn’t live with that. Not when he already owed her a debt for saving his life. He’d already wronged one Rogue female in his lifetime. He wasn’t about to repeat that mistake. He’d never be able to atone for his sins, but treating Belle right, no matter the consequences, was a close start. Which meant he needed to do what his gut and his heart had been telling him all along.
“In that case…” Unhooking the handcuffs from the belt loop of his old ranch jeans, he tossed them to the cabin floor in front of her feet. The metal clanged against the hardwood, sharp and loud.
Her eyes darted between the cuffs at her feet and him.
He inhaled a deep breath. “Consider my debt discharged.”
* * *
Belle gaped at Colt. For once, she found herself at a loss for words.
He believed her…when no one else ever had. That thought was enough to undo her. The tears came fast, pouring down her cheeks. They were a mixture of relief, gratitude, and regret that she hadn’t told him sooner. She’d never expected anyone to believe her, let alone the Grey Wolf high commander. And now…
“You can’t possibly mean?” She whispered the words. It felt as if speaking at a normal pitch would cause the possibility to evaporate into the ether.
Colt gave a hard nod. His jaw was drawn tight. “That’s exactly what I mean. You’re free to go.”
“What about my testimony to the Seven Range Pact?” she breathed.
“I’ll think of something.”
Her eyes grew wide. He would do that? For her? “But it can’t be that simple. They’re expecting me to testify. If I don’t show, the search for me will be renewed.”
Colt shook his head. “Don’t underestimate the power I hold in the Grey Wolf Pack, Belle. I’ll help you sneak past the guards, then I’ll tell the Pact and my men that you escaped. They won’t question me. You’re not number one on our priority list for threats to the pack. They won’t come looking for you.”
“And your counterstrike? Your packmaster?”
“I’ll deliver your testimony secondhand. It’s a risk I’ll have to take, and don’t worry about Maverick. I’ll handle him. He won’t be pleased, but I’ll deal with the blowback.”
She inhaled a sharp breath, fear shaking her as she asked her last question. “And the price on my head?”
Colt nodded. “Consider it taken care of. I’ll tell Maverick I interrogated you myself, that you were innocent. Give it some time, and I’ll be able to move you off the watch list.”
He was putting everything on the line. For her. Risking it all.
A weight lifted off Belle’s chest. Even on that night when she’d done the unthinkable in self-defense, she had thought that she’d never truly escape the Wild Eight and what they’d done to her, to Dalia, to so many others. That feeling had been a part of her for so long, she hadn’t realized how it had choked the life from her.
She felt Colt’s eyes on her. That dark, steely gaze blazed a trail of heat over her skin. Every time he looked at her, she felt the heat that had passed between them when he’d kissed her, when he’d felt her. His body had been warm, strong, and virile as he’d pressed against her, and the way his length pressed against her most intimate places during that kiss had made her cheeks burn hot with desire. She hadn’t wanted that moment to end.
She wasn’t supposed to like him. They were enemies. But how could she not? Sure, he was as arrogant as she had expected of a Grey Wolf commander, but he also defied her expectation at every turn. Even in their initial agreement, she had recognized she was getting the better end of their bargain, but now she understood what lay beneath all that bravado. Arrogant and hardened as he was on the exterior, Colt Cavanaugh had a clear place in his heart for mercy, for kindness.
And he believed her when no one else ever had.
She glanced up to find those steel eyes watching her, and her breath caught. Colt’s gaze held all the tenderness she’d seen from him that first night in the clearing. The vulnerability had drawn her in. This was a man who’d seen and waged wars, but who still felt—deeply—and if the look in his eyes was any indication, who felt deeply for her.
You and I want the same thing, Belle. His previous words shook her.
He’d been protecting her, caring for her from the start, though he was too hardened, too stubborn to allow her to see it. Until now…
“I’ll need to wipe the files, so it may take a few days until the clearance comes through. You’ll need to lie low until then. Hole up in a motel in the middle of nowhere.”
“Thank you.” She hoped those two simple words brimmed with the gratitude she felt.
“Think nothing of it. You saved my life.” When he didn’t say anything further, she realized he was giving her the opportunity to leave.
“I guess this is goodbye then.”
He gave a curt nod, refusing to look at her as he crossed back to the mantel. He placed his hand over the marbled edge and stared down at the fire. Once again, he didn’t allow her to see his pain, but she knew it was there. She felt it.
As her hand connected with the smooth, round brass on the doorknob, she hesitated. Her chest ached. This would likely be the last time she’d ever see him, and that pained her more than she’d anticipated…
And she could tell it pained him, too.
Her hand fell away from the door handle. “Before I go, I should probably look at your wounds again. Just to make sure they healed properly.” It was an obvious stalling tactic.
Maybe if she had a few more minutes to process, she could find the words to tell him how she felt.
He glanced up, his brow furrowed in mild confusion. “Sure,” he muttered.
Crossing the room toward him, she stood in front of him. He gestured to the buttons of his shirt, and from the smirk that curled his lips, she realized he wasn’t going to make this easy on her. She gripped the hem of the material, tugging him toward her with confidence as she started in on the top button.
As she worked her way down, he cleared his throat. “Why did you leave?” he asked.
She was about to admit that she wasn’t quite ready to leave when he clarified, “Why did you leave the rodeo?”
It was a personal question, but after the kindness he’d shown her, she felt compelled to answer. “I had some good people in my life, and I enjoyed my work, t
he travel, but I…I moved around so much, I didn’t have any close friends.” She opened the sides of his shirt, revealing the bare chest beneath. Her fingers danced over the skin where the wound had been. It was barely more than a puckered scar now. It would likely be smooth in a few days.
“I wanted friends, a family, and a…” A lump formed in her throat. She could barely speak around it. The truth was difficult to admit to a Grey Wolf cowboy like him. “And a pack,” she finally managed. “That’s how I fell into the Wild Eight’s hands. I wanted that kind of life so badly that I…I didn’t even see the way they were using me. Not at first.” She blinked away her gathering tears and forced a laugh. “Boy, was I stupid, huh? As if a Rogue could ever have any of those things…” With his wound clearly healed and no more excuse to stay, she moved to turn away, but Colt caught her chin in his hand.
“Don’t.” His command was firm yet gentle as he forced her to meet his gaze. She couldn’t have looked away if she’d wanted to. The steel of his eyes had melted, leaving a warmth and a depth that bored straight through her. The burning glow of the fire reflected in his gaze.
“Don’t tear yourself down like that,” Colt said. “You may be a Rogue, but everyone deserves a family, a pack, happiness. And I can tell by the way you cared for me, saved me—all when you thought I was your enemy—that you’re more than decent, Belle Beaumont. You’re a kindhearted woman, and you deserve happiness. Don’t ever deny yourself that.”
He released her chin and she lowered her head, searching for some way out of the raw, vulnerable feeling in her chest. She’d never felt so open, so bare, even when she’d been standing nude before him in the clearing, and in that moment, she wanted to believe his words were true with every part of her, so badly it made her ache.
“Thank you,” she whispered, still blinking away tears.
“Few people want anything more than to be accepted for who they are. I’m certain of that.” His voice was graveled at the edges, like he held back emotions of his own. He sounded as if he spoke from experience.
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