Out of My Head

You hadn’t meant to disappear. It had started with one ignored phone call, then another. Your apartment had become suffocating, every notification another demand, another person wanting something from you. So you’d turned your phone off, thrown a sweatshirt over your pajamas, and rented a forgotten cabin tucked deep into the mountains.

No signal. No neighbors. No expectations. For the first time in months, you could hear yourself think. Or so you believed.

The floorboards creaked behind you just after sunset.You froze, mug halfway to your lips. He leaned one broad shoulder against the doorway like he belonged there, dressed in a dark henley with rain still clinging to his hair, entirely unsurprised to find you.

“Steve?” Your pulse stumbled.

“You—”

“I knocked.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You had music on.”

“I don’t have service.” Your voice came out thinner than you intended. “No one knew where I was.”

“I did.”

Steve crossed the room with measured steps, stopping close enough that you could smell cedar and rain.

“Why did you follow me?”

“I’ve been making sure you were safe.”

“Those aren’t the same thing.”

“No.” He didn’t even pretend otherwise. You looked toward the window. Trees stretched endlessly into the dark, swallowing the world beyond the glass.

“I needed to get away.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

Your laugh came out hollow.

“If you knew, then why are you here?”

His expression softened in a way that almost made it worse. One hand reached up, brushing an escaped strand of hair behind your ear with impossible gentleness.

“If you wanted seclusion,” he murmured, “you only needed to say so.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I would’ve cleared my schedule.”

His thumb lingered against your cheek.

“I would’ve stocked the pantry.”

Another heartbeat.

“I would’ve made sure no one could find you.”

Your breath caught. “Including you?”

“You shouldn’t have to face the world alone,” he continued quietly. “But you don’t get to vanish from me. I won’t spend three days wondering whether you’re hiding… or bleeding… or lying in a ditch because no one knows where you went.”

Every word carried the weight of sleepless nights and contingency plans you hadn’t known existed. “I checked every road camera between the city and these mountains,” he admitted. “I visited your office. Your favorite café. I had Sam call every hospital within two hundred miles.”

Your stomach twisted. “You… did all that?”

“I started after the first missed call.”

You should have been angry. Maybe part of you was. But beneath the possessiveness, beneath the frightening certainty that he’d found you because he always would, was something harder to deny.

He’d been terrified. Steve rested his forehead lightly against yours. “Next time,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “tell me you need the world to disappear.”

His hand settled at the small of your back, steady and warm.

“I’ll make it happen.”

The cabin was silent again.

The forest swallowed every frantic breath.

Branches clawed at your bare arms as you stumbled between towering pines, your pulse roaring louder than the wind. Damp moss slipped beneath your feet, and the oversized shirt—his shirt—barely covered your thighs as you ducked behind the broad trunk of an ancient cedar.

You couldn’t hear a thing. No footsteps. Nothing. You pressed a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose. Have you lost him?

A twig snapped somewhere to your left. Your head whipped toward the sound. Nothing. Another snap. Behind you this time. Your heart sank. He wasn’t crashing through the woods. He wasn’t calling your name.

He was hunting. Very slowly. Very patiently, like he knew every inch of these woods better than he knew the lines on his own hands. You darted from your hiding place, weaving between the trees, ignoring the sting of bark scraping your legs.

Don’t look back. You couldn’t help it. You looked. For one terrifying second, all you caught was the empty forest. Then a broad silhouette stepped from behind a pine.

Curtis.

His flannel hung open over a dark shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He made no move to hurry after you. He simply tilted his head, eyes fixed on yours from thirty yards away.

“You can keep running,” he called, his voice carrying effortlessly through the trees. “It’ll only make it harder to catch your breath.”

You turned and ran again. Your lungs burned. Every rustle of leaves sounded like he was right behind you. Every shadow became him. You slipped down a shallow embankment, catching yourself against a fallen log before ducking beneath its tangled roots. Your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as you listened.

Just owls, and the breeze. Oh, and your heartbeat.

Then, close enough that warm breath ghosted over the shell of your ear…

“You hide pretty.”

You gasped, spinning too fast. He was already there. One hand caught your waist before you could bolt again. “You gave me a good chase.” His hand slipped from your waist to your hip. “I almost thought that this time it was going to be a challenge.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “But we both knew how this was going to end.” He maneuvers you onto your hand and knees, your fingers sinking into the soft earth.

“No… please…”

He pushes your cheek to the dirt and lifts up the shirt he gave you to wear after he had taken you. Two of his thick fingers dip between your folds, gathering the mixture of his cum and your juices from the times he’s taken you before he released you for the chase.

The safehouse sat at the end of a forgotten logging road, swallowed by pine trees and silence. It was too quiet. You should’ve trusted that instinct. The front door hung open by an inch. No guards. No alarms. No movement.

Just stillness.

Your pistol came up as you eased inside. The smell hit first. Copper. Death.

Your target, the accountant who’d stolen millions from a dozen mercenary outfits, was slumped in a wooden chair. One clean gunshot between the eyes. Cold enough to tell you he’d been dead for hours.

The bounty was gone before you’d even arrived.

A slow clap echoed through the cabin.

You froze.

“See?” a familiar voice drawled from somewhere behind you. “Now that’s the face I was hoping for.”

You turn, seeing Lloyd leaned lazily against the doorway you’d just walked through, immaculate despite the blood drying on the floor behind the chair. Hair perfectly styled. Black fitted shirt that’s maybe too tight defining every curve of muscle in his chest and abs. Like he’d shown up for brunch instead of murder.

He smiled. “So nice of you to make the trip.”

Your gun snapped toward him. His grin widened.

“You know…” he sighed. “I was almost offended.”

“You wanted the bounty.”

“I wanted you.”

Your finger tightened on the trigger.

“So I leaked the location.”

Your stomach dropped.

“You what?”

“You didn’t steal anything.” He tapped his temple. “I let you.”

Every detail suddenly rearranged itself.The unlocked server. The suspiciously absent encryption key.The guard who’d been far too easy to bribe. None of it had been luck.

It had all been…

“You.”

Lloyd pointed at you like a proud teacher.

“Gold star.”

“You set me up.”

“I prefer invited.”

“You murdered a man just to lure me here?”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.” He glanced at the corpse. “I was going to kill him anyway. He was boring.”

“You’ve lost your damn mind.”

“Probably.” He shrugged as though discussing the weather. “But then…” his smile sharpened, “…you decided to get ambitious.” He continues.

“You’ve been stealing contracts, undercutting me. Making people think you’re smarter than you are.” His eyes settle on you then. “Then you tried stealing from me.”

The cabin suddenly felt much smaller. He takes a slow step toward you.

“You didn’t think you’d really get away with that, did you?” Another step. “You honestly thought I’d wake up, discover one of my assets missing, and just…accept it?”

Your pistol never wavered. “I’m still the one holding the gun.”

“And yet,” he kept walking. “You haven’t fired.”

Something cold settled in your chest. Lloyd noticed. He always noticed.

“What?”

“You’re thinking.”

You backed toward the nearest window. He didn’t stop you. “You’ve already planned three escape routes.”

Another step.

“You’ve decided the window’s fastest.”

Another.

“You’re wondering why I’m not worried.”

Because he wasn’t. Not even a little.

“You know why?” he asked softly.

You said nothing.

“Because every exit is covered.”

Silence.

“The road?”

He nodded toward the trees outside.

“Mine.”

“The ridge?”

Another nod.

“Mine.”

“The truck you drove here?”

He chuckled.

“Not anymore.”

“You really are an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

He stopped just outside arm’s reach. Close enough to notice he still hadn’t reached for his own weapon.He didn’t need to.

“You’ve been chasing me for months,” you said quietly.

“No.”

His smile faded into something calmer.

“Months ago, I was curious.” His eyes met yours. “Now, I’m invested.”

Your finger rested against the trigger.

“So what now?”

His smile returned, slow, smug, utterly insufferable.

“Now we have a conversation.”

He glanced briefly toward the dead man in the chair.

“Because if I’m going to punish someone for trying to outplay me, I’d much rather it be the one who’s still alive.

Lloyd exploded into motion. One moment he was standing just out of reach, wearing that infuriating grin. The next, he was on you.

His boot connected with your wrist in a sharp, practiced strike. Pain shot up your arm as your fingers flew open, your pistol skidding across the worn cabin floor until it clattered uselessly into the far corner.

“Damn it—”

You twisted, throwing an elbow where his ribs should have been. He wasn’t there. A hand caught your forearm. Another hooked around your waist. The world lurched.

Before you could plant your feet or recover your balance, he’d pivoted with frightening efficiency. His boot sent the corpse sprawling unceremoniously from the wooden chair, and before the body had even finished hitting the floor, he was dragging you off balance and folding you over his knee in one fluid, practiced movement, as though he’d planned every second of it from the moment you walked through the cabin door.

“Get your hands off me!”

He chuckled, one hand keeping you firmly pinned as you struggled to wrench yourself free. Every twist and kick only earned another effortless adjustment of his grip, as though he were humoring you rather than restraining you.

“Finished?” he asked lightly.

“Go to hell.”

“Temper, temper.”

The sharp swat landed more as an insult than an injury, punctuating your outburst. You went rigid, outrage burning hotter than the sting itself.

“You son of a—”

Lloyd laughed outright, another two hard spanks landed on your ass, and you felt your cheeks burn as the sensation sent shockwaves straight to your core.

“I do appreciate the effort,” he said. “You almost made me think I was going to have to work for this.”

He tugged down your tactical pants, whistling low at the delicate thong hidden between your cheeks. He gives your ass one more smack, reveling in watching your skin ripple.

“Next time you decide to steal from me,” you don’t even have to look at him to know there’s a sickening, smug, smile plastered on his face. You can feel it.

It hit him as he was walking through the Hallmark store, buying a stupid birthday present for some random person in the office. He was grumbling to himself, and then you were there. Not in person, no. But your scent. Drifting through the air conditioned breeze and stealing all sense from his system. A switch flicked.

His alpha demanded, and he was happy to comply.

Even with the bustling mall, crowds of people darting and perusing, he doesn’t lose your scent. Following past storefronts—even those that waft obnoxious colognes out their doors—and the food court—with the smell of food flooding the air. Your trail leads him to you.

He wonders if you know. If you sense him. The predator on your tail. Stalking after you on the hunt.

He pauses in front of the sporting goods store. Ari and Curtis exiting as he approaches. A wild, feral look in each of his packmate’s eyes. But they find him in the crowd. Without a word, joining him on his search to find you.

Three pairs of eyes scan their surroundings. Their combined instincts goading them on.

They find you in the parking garage. The breeze changing. Your scent still lingering. But they see you. The tension in your shoulders. The shiver of your figure. Your quick steps and swinging gaze. Looking for them as much as they’re looking for you. Distress sours your scent. Your feet scurry. Pace rapid as you try to get to the safety of your car. You know. You can feel them, smell them.

He and his packmates continue their pursuit.

A nod to the side separates them. Their formation fanning out. Corralling you wherever you’re going.

You shove your key into the door of your car, hands shaking, nearly fumbling them. Scratches form on the handle with your missed attempts. But then it notches in the lock and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief.

He’s at your back before you can. You whip around, pathetic growl rolling in your throat. His lips tilt in a smirk.

“No need for that, omega,” he says, holding up a hand to dismiss the sound. Ari and Curtis come into his periphery. Ari’s eyes softening at the growl in your throat, Curtis’ eyes hungry.

You’re too focused on him to notice. And he steps forward, crowding you into the cool metal of your car.

“Easy now,” he coos in a whisper just for you. One hand raises to cup your cheek, your eyes widening at the touch. “It’s nice to meet you.” Your scent fills his nose—even tainted as it is by your fear. “That’s Ari and Curtis,” he introduces with a nod to each at his side, “and I’m Andy. We’re your new alphas.”