This time, he’s the one who should be afraid.
He steps out of the shadows like he owns the place, but the years have not been kind to him. Time dug its claws deep and dragged him downhill, carving out hollows beneath his eyes, sinking his cheeks, turning him into a brittle caricature of the man who once terrorized me. His skin is pale and waxy, stretched tight like old parchment. Sweat shines along his hairline even though the air is cold.
He looks like someone who has been living with fear as a houseguest.
Good.
A laugh bursts from me before I can stop it—sharp, bright, echoing off rusted shipping containers and cracked concrete. His men tense, but Dean startles, just slightly. The satisfaction warms me all the way to my fingers.
I tilt my head, studying him slowly, letting every second dig under his skin. “Well… someone looks like shit.”
His lip twitches. A tiny betrayal, but I catch it.
He hates that.
He hates that I see him.
He smooths his expression into something he thinks passes for control. A smirk that doesn’t touch his dead eyes. “I wouldn’t be so cocky, Berkley. You’re not exactly in a position to critique appearances.”
I shrug as if we’re discussing weather, not my kidnapping. “Where’s Kimber? You still need to follow through with your end and let her go. You have me now. The swap you demanded.”
His laugh is a jagged sound, scraping the air raw. “Did you actually think I was going to let her go?” He steps closer, the smell of stale cologne and decay clinging to him. “No. You are a redo that should have died with your pathetic father.”
The words slide over me without catching. He’s reaching—digging for old wounds that no longer bleed for him. But a darker hunger coils through his expression as his gaze drags lazily down my body.
“They were fun times, weren’t they?” he murmurs, tongue briefly wetting his bottom lip.
Heat surges through me—cold, lethal heat. I lean forward, letting him see the devil he made. “There is no honor among monsters anymore, I guess. Give me proof of life. Now. Otherwise, I’ll kill everyone here before you blink.”
His men erupt into laughter, a chorus of stupidity echoing across the yard. Even Dean joins in, a low, smug chuckle.
I wait. Let them get it all out. Then I smile, slow and unhinged, letting them see exactly what they’ve invited in. “Not sure what you’re laughing at… I dismantled and burned your entire operation. And it was glorious.” I savor the last word until it twists into the air like smoke.
Dean’s composure fractures. He lunges before he even thinks, hand snapping across my face. My head whips to the side, copper flooding my mouth. One of his guards stiffens—fear or surprise, I don’t care.
I turn back to Dean with blood smeared across my lips and grin.
Then I spit at his feet. “I’m not that clueless teen anymore.”
For the first time, genuine uncertainty flickers through his eyes. It’s faint, but it’s there.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he pivots sharply, jaw clenched tight, and strides toward the warehouse door.
His men jerk on my arms, shoving me forward so roughly that my knees buckle.
I let them.
For now.
Let them think they have me.
Let Dean think he’s won round one.
He has no idea he just invited a wolf into his den.
Which was always the point. Dean thought he’d cornered me, that walking through his rusty gates meant defeat. But the second I agreed to his terms, the second I stepped onto this property, I had already won something far more valuable than leverage.
Access.