Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

COLT

C olt stood on the balcony of his bedroom, his sharp eyes fixed on the guest room down the hall, where the woman—Briar—lay sleeping. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, but tension rippled through his muscles, as if holding still required every ounce of his willpower.

Two days. She'd slept for two days straight, waking only once, long enough to drink a little water before falling back into a restless slumber. Etta, their trusted housekeeper, had reassured him that Briar's condition was improving—severe dehydration and exhaustion, nothing life-threatening—but Colt's gut twisted with unease. He'd seen the bruises mottling her pale skin, the way her eyes had flashed with raw terror when she'd first regained consciousness.

She had been running from something, and whatever—or whoever—it was, it had done a hell of a number on her.

He raked a hand through his hair, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Questions gnawed at him—where had she come from? What was she hiding? Could she be a threat to his pack?

It wasn't just his responsibility as alpha that drove the questions. It was more than that—something primal and personal, something that made him want to protect her, even though logic screamed caution. Caution had never been his strong suit.

Colt clenched his jaw, stepping away from the railing and returning to his room to pace from wall-to-wall. His pack didn't need to see him this agitated by the presence of a woman, especially a human one. His boots thudded against the hardwood floor, the steady rhythm doing little to calm the storm brewing in his mind. The pack came first—always. He couldn't afford to make reckless decisions, no matter how much he wanted to trust his instincts.

And yet, his instincts about Briar were unlike anything he'd ever felt. From the moment he'd caught her scent—rain, blood, and something inexplicably familiar—his wolf had stirred, howling in recognition. She was his fated mate. He knew it with a certainty that ran as deep as his bones.

But being his mate didn't make her any less dangerous to him or his pack. There were plenty of stories in shifter lore that spoke of fated mates being a destructive force in an alpha's life. But he saw those as cautionary tales. Colt much preferred the ones where the she-wolf in question brought so much more to the pack and the relationship than the wolf in question ever dared to dream. There were plenty of examples of she-wolves being coerced into their roles who ended up being the best thing that ever happened to alpha and pack. He grinned ruefully— Cameron Nichols, I'm thinking of you and your Riley.

Briar was human—or at least, she smelled human—and that alone posed a risk. For millennia, wolf-shifters had lived in the shadows, keeping their existence hidden from humans while living alongside them. Even in modern times, the secret had to be protected at all costs. If Briar knew too much, if she had seen something she shouldn't have…

Colt let out a slow breath, forcing himself to push the thought aside. There were too many unknowns, and he wouldn't get the answers he needed by interrogating her before she had recovered.

He left his room, standing just outside the door in the hallway, where Etta moved quietly in and out of the guest room, checking on Briar's condition. Their medical staff had declared her free of any life-threatening injuries, and Etta had taken charge of Briar's care. Colt trusted her implicitly. If there was one person who could keep the girl safe—and pry loose any secrets she might be hiding—it was Etta.

Still, Colt couldn't shake the uneasy feeling twisting in his chest. What if Briar was a danger to the pack? What if the people chasing her showed up at their doorstep? As much as his wolf insisted she belonged to him, Colt knew he couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment. The safety of the pack had to come first, no matter the cost to him personally.

Even now, as he replayed the moments he'd spent watching her sleep, arousal simmered just beneath his skin, leaving him restless and on edge. Briar's presence stirred something inside him—a hunger he couldn't ignore. He remembered the way her red curls had tumbled across the pillow, the slight rise and fall of her chest as she slept. Her scent clung to his senses, making it almost impossible to focus on anything else.

He wanted her. Not just physically, but wholly—mind, body, and soul. But wanting her didn't mean trusting her, and until he knew for sure that she wasn't a threat, he had to keep his distance.

He'd begun to pace and made himself stop at the open door to the guest room. He leaned against the doorframe, watching Etta as she adjusted the blankets around Briar's sleeping form.

"How is she?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Etta glanced over her shoulder, her expression patient but knowing. "She's doing better. The worst of the dehydration has passed, but she's still weak. Poor thing's been through hell."

Colt nodded, his jaw tight. "Any signs she's waking up?"

"Not yet. But she's stirring more, dreaming." Etta smoothed a hand over Briar's forehead with a motherly touch. "Whatever, or whoever, chased her, it left marks on more than just her body."

Colt's chest tightened. He didn't need Etta to tell him that Briar was haunted—he'd seen it in her eyes, that wild, desperate fear that told him she was running from something far worse than a broken-down vehicle, the storm or exhaustion.

He straightened, arms crossed over his chest. "You think she's hiding something?"

Etta gave him a pointed look. "Everyone who's been through what she has is hiding something, Colt. The question is whether it presents a danger to the pack, this ranch, or you."

He exhaled through his nose, his frustration mounting. That was exactly what he was trying to figure out. Was she running from a danger that threatened the pack, or was she just an innocent woman caught in a nightmare?

He wanted to believe it was the latter. Everything in him rebelled at the idea of Briar being a threat. His wolf growled softly in agreement, urging him to protect her, to claim her as his own. But being alpha meant thinking with the head between his ears and not the one between his legs.

Etta straightened, wiping her hands on her apron. "She'll wake soon. Give her time. When she does, you can ask your questions."

Colt grunted, knowing Etta was right. "I'll keep watch."

Etta patted his arm as she moved past him toward the door. "Try not to scare her when she wakes, Colt. She's been through enough."

He gave her a half-smile. Scaring her was the last thing he wanted. If anything, the thought of her fearing him made something inside him twist painfully.

As Etta left the room, Colt took a step closer to Briar's bedside. He stood over her, watching the way her pale skin seemed almost too fragile against the bruises. Her breathing was slow and steady now, but her brows twitched, as if she was lost in troubled dreams.

What secrets are you hiding, Briar?

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than he intended, his wolf stirring beneath the surface. Even bruised and battered, she was beautiful, with fiery curls framing her delicate features. Colt's fingers twitched with the urge to brush a strand of hair from her face, but he held himself back.

As he watched her sleep, a fierce protectiveness ballooned within him. Colt knew, without a doubt, that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. No one would take her from him.

He turned away from the bed, his expression grim. He needed answers, but he could wait until she woke. Until then, he would watch, wait, and protect—because if anyone tried to hurt Briar again, they'd have to go through him first.

Colt's gaze drifted over Briar's sleeping form, and the sight of her bruised and battered body stirred a rage so fierce it stole his breath away. His hands curled into fists, but he held back, forcing himself to stay in control. Whoever had hurt her would pay. His wolf growled in agreement, simmering just beneath the surface, eager for a fight.

But the rage wasn't just about what had been done to her. It was more than that. The moment he'd gotten close enough to her, the truth had hit him with the force of a thunderclap—this woman, Briar, was his fated mate.

There was no mistaking it. The bond settled over him like a second skin, the feeling foreign and familiar at the same time. It wasn't just her scent—though that alone had pulled him in like a moth to a flame. It was a deep connection he could feel winnowing through every part of his being. He'd been waiting for her all his life. She was the reason no other she-wolf, or human female for that matter, had ever called to him.

That truth brought with it a thousand unanswered questions. What had happened to her? Who had marked her with bruises and fear? Why had she shown up on his doorstep in the middle of a Texas derecho, half-dead and terrified? And perhaps the most troubling question of all: What was she hiding?

Colt shook his head, forcing himself to focus. The questions could wait. Right now, the only thing that mattered was making sure she recovered. He wouldn't be able to rest until he knew she was out of danger.

He bent down beside the bed, brushing a tangled curl away from her pale face with a feather-light touch. She stirred a mixture of protectiveness and desire deep within him. His wolf growled softly. She wasn't ready for that—hell, neither was he.

"Sleep, Briar," he whispered, though she couldn't hear him. "You're safe now."

Colt straightened and turned toward the door, calling for Etta, who had worked for his family longer than he could remember. Moments later, Etta bustled into the room, her silver hair pulled back in a neat bun, her sharp eyes flickering between Colt and the sleeping woman.

"She'll need proper care," Colt said quietly. "You know what to do?"

Etta gave him a look that would have withered a lesser man. "Of course, I know what to do. I've been taking care of you boys since you were pups, haven't I?" She crossed the room and smoothed the blankets around Briar with a gentle touch. "Poor thing's been through the wringer. You did right taking her in, Colt." She stood and looked at him, arching her eyebrow knowingly. "But this one's not just any stray, is she?"

Colt's jaw tightened. Etta was too damn perceptive for her own good. "No," he admitted, the word coming out gruff. "She's not."

Etta gave him a knowing smile but didn't press him further. "I'll keep an eye on her," she said. "You go on and take care of what you need to. I'll call you if there's any change."

Colt gave a short nod, grateful for Etta's steady presence. If anyone could help Briar heal, it was Etta. Satisfied that Briar was in good hands, Colt left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He stood in the hallway for a moment, listening to the weather outside as it continued to rage, thunder rumbling low in the distance, as if nature itself was restless with unanswered questions.

Colt ran a hand down his face, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of Briar. The bond between them hummed just beneath the surface, pulling at him like a constant undercurrent. But this wasn't the time to give in to those instincts. The pack came first, and until he knew more about Briar's past—and the danger that might follow her—he couldn't afford to let his guard down.

With one last glance at her door, Colt headed toward the barn. There was work to be done—horses to feed, ranch hands to direct, paperwork to be completed—and the routine work would help him clear his head, at least for a little while.

As his boots thudded against the packed earth, the horses nickered softly in their stalls as he entered, sensing his presence. He grabbed a couple of feed buckets, falling in alongside the hands who normally performed the job, the familiar task grounding him in the moment.

As the day wore on, the air outside seemed to cool and calm itself. It was heavy with the scent of rain, the clouds swirling overhead like restless spirits. Lightning flickered along the horizon, illuminating the wide expanse of Copper Canyon Ranch. But even as he worked, his mind refused to quiet. He could feel his wolf pacing within him, unsettled, eager to act.

"Soon," he murmured to himself as he poured grain into the feed troughs.

The wind picked up, rattling the barn doors, but inside, everything was calm—at least for now. Colt knew that whatever had brought Briar to him wasn't over; it was just beginning.

He set the last bucket down and leaned against the stall door, the sound of the horses' soft munching filling the barn. His wolf rumbled, restless and waiting. Colt let out a long breath, knowing deep down that whatever was coming would change everything.