4

In Ryker’s sprawling lake house cabin, I sit perched on a barstool in the kitchen, cradling another beer like it’s the only thing chaining me to this place. The whole family is here, like they are every fucking Christmas Eve, but this year, Ryker’s added a few outsiders—friends of the family, guests that crowd the space and suffocate the air. The festive chaos grates on my sanity, so I’ve tucked myself away in this corner.

As I tilt the bottle back, eyes fixed on the ceiling for a moment, they instinctively fall back to her. Through the double doors that lead to the living room, I watch Bunny. She moves in time with the Christmas music blasting through the house, snow falling heavily outside the frosted windows. The twinkling Christmas lights cast her in a golden haze, their cheer mocking my dreary mood.

Her short red dress hugs her in all the right places, the neckline dipping low. A dress I would usually kill her for, but luckily, she’s here, with family. A pair of ridiculous reindeer antlers sits atop her head, making her look even more infuriatingly adorable. She’s laughing, carefree, with Tiffany, her cousin who’s about the same age. The two of them sway together, Tiffany’s arm looping through hers as they spin, drawing the attention of nearly every guy in the fucking room.

I grip the beer bottle harder, my knuckles whitening as I slam it down on the counter. She’s always been oblivious to the way she pulls focus; how every goddamn movement she makes commands attention. Or maybe she isn’t oblivious at all. Maybe she just doesn’t give a fuck about us anymore. My chest tightens at the thought, a bitter swell of selfishness crawling up my throat.

I should look away, but I can’t. She’s the only thing I can see, the only thing I’ve ever really seen in this house full of people I couldn’t give less of a shit about. Every laugh, every smile digs deeper into me. I want her so fucking bad. She’s trying to avoid me at the moment. Trying to stay away from me because shit's getting heated between us and it’s driving me crazy.

I glance up at the clock hanging on the wall, its ticking blurred by the fog of too many beers. Midnight is creeping closer, the threshold to Christmas almost here. My gaze drifts back toward her—Ebony. And then I see him. A guy I barely know stepping into her orbit, talking to her. My drunken haze clears instantly, my focus sharpening as if my body’s instinct is to fight.

She laughs at something he says, and my jaw tightens so hard it’s a miracle my teeth don’t fucking crack. Then, as if she can feel my gaze burning into her, she hesitantly looks over her shoulder. Our eyes collide—hers unfocused from the alcohol, mine hard and cutting through the distance between us. A warning.

Her expression shifts, her carefree attitude replaced by something else entirely. Guilt? Fear? Whatever it is, she knows the rules. She knows what happens when another guy tries to step where he doesn’t belong. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Sit back and let someone else fucking touch her? Over my dead fucking body. If I have to live with this torture, then so does she. She’s mine, whether she wants to admit it or not.

I see it in her face—reluctance, a moment where she considers the backlash. But then disobedience sparks in her eyes. She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, and I can see her thinking.

Don’t fucking do it.

And then she does. Bold as hell, or maybe just too drunk to care, she turns and walks off with him, out of my sight.

The instant they disappear, something snaps. My fist slams down on the wooden counter, the sound echoing through the cheery kitchen. I shove the stool back with a scrape and round the island, ignoring the glances from anyone nearby.

I stalk toward the living room, shoving past groups of family and friends, their laughter and music scratching against my ears like nails on a fucking chalkboard. I don’t care about the festivities, the people, or the goddamn snow falling outside. There’s only one thought on my mind, and it’s her.

I search every room, frustration mounting with every step, but Ebony seems to have disappeared into thin air. When I’ve scoured every corner, I head to the back door, the cold air hitting my hot skin as I step outside. My breath clouds in the night air, and the sound of voices catches my attention—soft and low, coming from around the side of the house.

The snow crunches under my boots as I move, my pulse hammering in my ears and when I turn the corner, I see them.

She’s leaning back against the wooden siding, her figure illuminated by the faint glow of the Christmas lights reflecting off the heavy snowfall. And that fucking guy, the one who clearly doesn’t know who the fuck I am or what I’m capable of—has his arm braced above her head, his body angled toward hers, trapping her. My teeth grind as I take in the scene as she places her hand on his chest, shaking her head once, saying something I can’t hear, but it doesn’t fucking matter.

I don’t waste a second. My boots dig into the snow as I stride toward them, the sound of my approach loud. The guy’s head snaps toward me first, his face painted with confusion, but it’s her reaction that cuts me to the bone. Her eyes widen, panic flashing across her face like she’s been caught in the act. She pushes against his chest quickly, a move that looks desperate, as if it will somehow change what I just saw.

It doesn’t.

My fists clench at my sides, and I close the distance, my body thrumming with barely contained rage.

“Rook—” Ebony starts, but I don’t even stop to think.

Without hesitation, I swing my fist hard, the crack of bone meeting bone echoing in the freezing air. The uppercut lifts him clean off his feet before he crashes onto the snow with a heavy thud.

“Rook!” Ebony’s scream cuts through the manic, but my focus is too locked on the guy groaning at my feet.

His pathetic attempts to roll away only fuel the fire inside me. I kick him in the stomach, once, twice, each strike harder than the last, knocking the air out of him as he writhes in the snow. My mind blanks out her frantic cries and her tugging at my leather jacket. All I can hear is the pounding of blood in my ears and the sickening satisfaction of his gasps for breath.

I lean down, grabbing his throat, my fingers tightening like a vice. His eyes bulge, his hands clawing weakly at mine as I squeeze, my grip unrelenting. “Touch her again, and I’ll fucking kill you,” I growl, though I’m not even sure if the words leave my mouth. The murderous red haze has completely taken over.

Suddenly, a tight grip on my jacket yanks me backward with a force that only one man could muster—Ryker.

I stumble back, the cold rushing in as his hold releases. Breathing heavily, I straighten, glaring at him. He stands between me and the gasping guy on the ground, his face unreadable, his calm an eerie opposite to the rage inside me. My angry gaze flicks to Ebony, her wide eyes brimming with tears.

I grunt, straightening my jacket with a rough pull, and without another word, I turn, storming back inside the house, leaving the chaos and the bitter cold behind me.