Chapter 244

Chapter 244
Michael

I stared at the constellation pattern on Richard's ceiling, mindlessly counting each star in the Big Dipper for what felt like the hundredth time. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 4:07 AM, its red numbers mocking my insomnia.

Sleep had abandoned me hours ago, leaving my thoughts to race through troubled waters. My body ached with tension, shoulders stiff and jaw clenched tight enough to crack a walnut.

To my right, Isabella slept curled against Richard's chest, but even in slumber, her brow remained furrowed, as if she couldn't fully escape her worries. Her lips occasionally twitched, silently speaking words of distress.

I'd been checking on her all night, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her black hair spilled like ink across the pillow, one hand resting lightly on Richard's torso, fingers occasionally twitching. He seemed to be sleeping soundly, probably because she had unconsciously gravitated toward his warmth during the night, her body seeking protection even in sleep.

I sighed heavily, closing my eyes, but it didn't stop the images from flashing behind my eyelids—Isabella's face twisted with fear; her trembling voice as she described being photographed in her sleep; the tears tracking down her cheeks when she admitted being afraid we would get hurt.

The memories cut deep, making my wolf growl, and I could feel it vibrating in my chest cavity. My beast wanted to protect her, to tear apart anyone who dared threaten what was ours, to taste the blood of her tormentor.

This shit shouldn't have happened. We should have noticed sooner. All those moments when she uncomfortably accepted our gifts, the days when she suddenly pulled away, those strange reactions when phone calls were abruptly terminated—all the obvious signals we ignored because we were too focused on our own damn desires, too confident in our fucking assumptions, too—fuck—I was too arrogant to see what was happening right in front of me.

I clenched my fists until my knuckles whitened, feeling the familiar anger boil beneath my skin, making my teeth lengthen slightly. I wanted to make the stalking bastard pay for every moment of fear he caused her, to make him feel that terror tenfold. I wanted to make him beg for mercy that would never come.

These violent thoughts should have disturbed me, but the line between my rational mind and my beast had never been so fucking blurred. I realized that to protect the woman sleeping in Richard's arms, I would willingly shed the veneer of civilization I'd carefully cultivated for decades.

I couldn't lie there anymore. I carefully slid out of bed, shifting my weight gradually to avoid disturbing Isabella or Richard. I pulled on my jeans, the rough denim scraping against my skin, then grabbed a t-shirt from my overnight bag and tugged it over my head. I padded silently out of the bedroom, each step calculated to avoid the floorboards I'd memorized from previous visits that creaked.

The hallway light hit me like a physical thing, making me squint and raise a hand to shield my eyes until they adjusted to the sudden brightness. My temples throbbed with a tension headache. Then I heard the faint sounds coming from the kitchen—the distinctive noise of a spoon stirring against ceramic.

Kevin stood at the counter brewing coffee, despite the unreasonable hour. He wore a black t-shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders and sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the tribal tattoos on his muscled arms visible even in the dim kitchen light. His eyes remained sharp, showing no signs of fatigue, while I probably looked like hell.

"Morning," I said, my voice raspy from hours of silence. He glanced at me, nodding in acknowledgment—typical Kevin communication. "Mind pouring me a cup too?" I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the knots of tension there.

"Pour your own damn coffee," he muttered, but was already reaching for a second mug, his movements efficient and precise.

"Please add some sugar?" I pleaded, moving toward the refrigerator, my bare feet cold against the tile floor. "It's for Isabella. She likes it sweet." A complete lie—I was the one who liked sweet coffee, while Isabella preferred hers black and bitter, like her humor when she was tired.

Kevin turned, narrowing his eyes at me, his gaze cutting through my deception like a laser. "This coffee's for you, isn't it?" he asked, a hint of mockery in his tone, his mouth twitching with what might have been the shadow of a smile.

Kevin saw through my expression—the bastard was more perceptive than he let on—then tossed me the sugar canister, which I nearly fumbled. "Too early for your bullshit," he grumbled, turning back to his own mug.

I laughed, the sound more strained than I'd intended, grateful for his concession. "Thanks." I poured a generous amount of sugar into the coffee, stirring, the spoon rhythmically hitting the ceramic in time with my tumbling thoughts. The sweet granules dissolved slowly, matching the pace of my churning mind.

"So nothing on the surveillance cameras last night?" I finally asked, taking a sip of the overly sweet coffee and immediately grimacing at the taste.

Kevin leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, muscles bulging beneath his tattoos. "Nothing," he said, his voice flat but his eyes burning with frustration. "I'll get the footage from the cameras across the street."

"Damn it, man," I shook my head, feeling utterly frustrated, my free hand instinctively clenching and unclenching. "I just can't wrap my head around someone stalking our girl and us not knowing about it." I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at the strands, a nervous habit I'd never been able to break. "We made her hide it from us, we noticed something was off with her, but we didn't do anything. We should have done something."

"How the fuck were we supposed to know if she didn't say anything?" Kevin countered, his voice low and tense, the muscles in his jaw jumping. "Focus on what we can do now. She doesn't have to face this asshole alone anymore."

I looked at him in surprise, studying the hard lines of his face. While Kevin was typically the most protective of the three of us, his rationality in this moment was reassuring, almost out of character. I nodded, taking another large gulp of coffee, immediately regretting my decision as the overly sweet liquid coated my tongue. Too fucking sweet. I swallowed with difficulty, suppressing the urge to spit it back into the cup.

"What about her phone?" I asked, setting the mug down on the counter with more force than necessary, coffee sloshing over the rim. "You mentioned tracking software, how did you figure that out?"