Chapter Eight

Holy. Mother.

Stewart stood on the other side of the bed, clutching Ethan’s back to his stomach. His nephew was dangling from his arms, but Stewart was too stunned to readjust him. His heart thudded against his ribs, and his breaths came in shallow bursts as his brain tried to process what he was seeing.

He was too shocked to do anything.

Ethan cried, his tiny hands reaching toward the massive form sprawled on the floor.

“I need a fricking drink,” Stewart muttered. Killian had told him he was a bear. Stewart had maybe, sorta, believed him—the claws had been very real—but to see the bear not ten feet away… The sight was almost too much to take in. The moment pressed down on Stewart’s chest.

Ethan wiggled until Stewart lost his grip. Hanging on to a writhing toddler wasn’t easy. His nephew fell to the floor, but before Stewart could grab him, Ethan raced around the bed, heading straight for the mammoth bear.

The kid was fast.

Stewart gave chase but stopped short when he reached the animal. The sheer size of Killian’s shifted form up close was overwhelming. Its fur was a deep, mahogany brown, the texture appearing thick and slightly matted, with a rich, musky scent that filled the room.

“Get back here!” he shouted in a frantic whisper, pointing at the spot in front of him as if Ethan would obediently return.

“Bad man hurt Uncuh Kill.” Ethan’s voice quivered with emotion.

“I know, tater tot, but—Don’t you dare climb—” He stared in disbelief as Ethan wriggled his way over the bear’s massive shoulder and snuggled into its thick neck fur. Now his nephew lay there, gently petting the deadly beast, like he was comforting the animal. The sight of the toddler’s small hands, barely visible in the sea of thick fur, sent chills racing down Stewart’s spine.

“You are so grounded, mister.” Stewart kept pointing to the spot in front of him, his finger jabbing the air repeatedly as if poking something bouncy.

The bear was wounded, and Stewart had no clue if it would know who Ethan was or turn the kid into an actual tater tot.

But who in the hell should he call? An ambulance or a vet? The police or animal control?

Too bad he didn’t have Quinton’s phone number. Stewart could drive Killian’s SUV, but he wasn’t leaving the bear behind, and Ethan clearly wasn’t either.

However, the animal was too big to haul out of the bedroom, let alone down the stairs and into the vehicle. Stewart doubted it would even fit. The grizzly had to be close to 700 pounds.

“Wait. He said not to be afraid of him ,” Stewart said to himself while pacing. “Killian was clearly referring to his bear. Even so, I’m not trusting my three-year-old with a beast the size of a small car.” He stopped and pivoted toward his nephew, ready to demand that Ethan come to him when he saw the toddler had fallen asleep, his soft breaths muffled against the bear’s fur.

Ethan was curled into a bear.

Those were six words Stewart never thought he would say or even think. He was positive Killian wouldn’t hurt Ethan. The guy seemed to genuinely care for the boy.

But a bear… He had to admit the bear had Stewart ready to mount a rescue mission to get his nephew to safety. The oversized furball possessed lethal claws and teeth.

“Killian!” Ryker shouted.

Stewart screamed, stumbling backward when Ryker rushed into the room. He tripped over Killian’s furry back legs and landed on his ass.

“What happened?” the guy demanded, his eyes wide, taking in the scene. “Why is the front door hanging wide open, and why do I smell blood?” He hurried to Stewart. “Were you hurt?” The guy spun, his gaze darting around the room. “Where’s Ethan?”

Ryker was moving too quickly, spitting his words bullet-fast, and he was giving Stewart an even bigger migraine.

“Please, hold still for five seconds. You’re acting worse than Ethan when he’s had too much sugar.”

“Tell me what happened.” Ryker helped Stewart to his feet then immediately let his hand go as if Stewart had burned him.

“First, tell me if Ethan is safe.”

Stewart gestured at the bear’s head, where his nephew was curled up, a little drool escaping onto the thick fur.

Ryker’s eyes softened as he stared at Ethan. The tension seemed to drain from him almost instantly. “He’s in the safest place he could be,” Ryker murmured.

“So, the bear isn’t going to hurt him?” Stewart wanted it spelled out for him. This was his nephew they were talking about, a little boy who had been through too much already, and Stewart would be damned if he allowed his tater tot to be hurt again.

Even if he had to wrestle a bear to keep the toddler safe.

“Shifters are cognizant in their animal form,” Ryker explained, his gaze still lingering on Ethan, the affection clear in his eyes. “He will know who you are and be able to understand you. Now tell me what took place here.”

“What brought you here?” Stewart countered, unsure why he was even asking the question.

“I left my tools and came back to get them.” Ryker looked at him, his jaw clenching as if holding back his irritation.

Stewart didn’t care. He’d wanted to ensure his nephew was safe first and foremost.

Shoving aside Ryker’s annoyance, Stewart took a deep breath and told the guy about this morning, about what happened at the small playground, about Alonso cornering them in the bedroom, and what had led to Killian shifting. His words came out shaky, his throat tightening as he relived each moment.

His hand trembled as he rested it over his forehead, the pounding headache intensifying. And Stewart thought he was getting away from the madness when he’d left Clive. “I don’t even know why the guy was here. He was in Ethan’s room when I brought my nephew upstairs,” Stewart said a little hysterically. “What if Ethan had come in here by himself?”

The shock of seeing Killian in his bear form was wearing off, but now the reality of what could have happened, what had happened, was at the forefront of Stewart’s mind.

The weight of it all made his knees feel weak, and he had to lean against the wall to steady himself.

“I’ll stay here to make sure nothing else jumps off.” Ryker pulled out his phone. “My dad will want to be here too.”

Stewart didn’t care if the entire gang came back. He wanted an army of bear shifters surrounding him and Ethan.

* * * *

Ryker stood quietly for a moment, watching Stewart struggle with the weight of everything that had happened. The guy looked like he was seconds away from collapsing. Ryker was unsure how to comfort his brother-in-law in a situation like this, but damn if his heart didn’t twist seeing Stewart ready to fall apart.

“Stay put,” Ryker finally said, his voice gruffer than intended. He dialed Quinton. “Got a situation at baby bear’s house,” he said as soon as his father picked up.

“Is anyone hurt?” Quinton asked, clear worry in his voice.

“Killian.”

“On my way,” his dad snarled then hung up.

Fifteen minutes later, Ryker saw his father and brother pull up through the upstairs window. The front door opened, and then Ryker heard the heavy footsteps of Quinton and Hyett walking through the house. Ryker heard them coming up the stairs, each thud of their boots a promise of protection.

Quinton entered first, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the massive bear. “How bad?” his dad asked before his eyes flicked to Stewart and Ethan. His gaze softened.

“Shot.” Ryker explained to his dad what Stewart had told him, even though the human was in the same room. Killian’s mate had already told the story once, and Ryker didn’t want him to have to repeat it again.

“How are you doing?” Quinton asked Stewart, who still appeared visibly shaken. “Stupid question, I know.”

Stewart’s smile quivered. “Holding it together…on the outside.”

“Best anyone can do under the circumstances,” Quinton replied, his voice low and soothing.

This was what Stewart needed. To feel the full protection of the Everhart men, to know they would show up at a moment’s notice to protect family and those they cared deeply about.

From the corner of his eye, Ryker saw a little head poke up. He grinned at how the cub’s blond hair stuck up in different directions, as if he’d just had the best sleep of his life.

“Uncuh Ton-Ton.” Ethan’s sleepy voice was adorable.

Ryker believed in protecting those who couldn’t do it for themselves, and children were the most vulnerable. The boy was now his nephew, and he would lay down his life in order to ensure Ethan’s safety, just as he would for anyone he cared about.

Quinton immediately crouched beside the bear, his large hands gentle as he rubbed Ethan’s back. “Hey, little man,” he said, his voice low. “Bear’s sleepy, huh?”

Ethan yawned, nodding. “Bear seepy. Pay?”

Quinton chuckled, scooping Ethan into his arms. “Sure, buddy. We can go play downstairs. I’ve got a new trick to show you.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Twick?”

“Yep. But it’s a secret. Only for you and me, okay?” Quinton winked, his grin wide as Ethan nodded seriously.

Ryker watched them go, his dad carrying the cub out of the room with that same confidence he always had when it came to family. Ryker let out a breath, glad everyone was okay.

Hyett stepped into the room, his eyes on Killian’s bear form. “I told him he snores while he’s a bear, but he called me a liar.”

“Where in this room do you hear a snore?” Ryker argued.

“Open your ears and listen.” Hyett gestured toward Killian.

Frowning, Ryker strained to hear it. “He’s heavy breathing. You would, too, if you were that size.”

“Heavy breathing is snoring, dumbass,” Hyett scowled.

“Bro, leave the drugs alone.” He shook his head. The guy was high if he thought the two were the same. “So, you’re telling me that after sex, when you’re all sweaty and struggling to breathe, you’re actually snoring?”

Ryker winced when it struck him that Stewart was still in the room.

“Smooth,” Hyett tsked. “I’ll go tell Dad he has one less son to worry about. Killian is going to kill you.”

“For what?” Stewart asked, his voice sounding more even.

“Nonhumans are very possessive of their mates. And Killian would kill me, especially if you two haven’t—”

Hyett whapped him on the back of the head. “You really are trying to die, aren’t you?”

“Killian told me about the possessive thing.” Stewart nodded, his brows knitted. “But would he really become that upset if you two were talking about sex in front of me?”

“Not me. No-ho-ho.” Hyett waved his hands, palms up. “Don’t even put me in this shit. That was bonehead over here.”

“I still can’t see him in a serious role.” Ryker chewed his lower lip, hoping desperately to change the subject so he could ease his foot out of his mouth. “He’s such a goofball.”

“Understatement,” Hyett muttered. “Nice try, though. He’s still going to kill you, bro.”

“I’m going to head downstairs.” Ryker stepped toward the door then looked at Stewart. “You good?”

“Not an appropriate question after you embarrassed the guy,” Hyett snarled.

“Who said I was embarrassed?” Stewart asked. “I’m a doctor, so I know all about the birds and the bears.”

“Nice.” Ryker chuckled.

“Seriously, you’re a doctor?” Hyett sounded impressed. Ryker was too.

“No, I only play one on television.” Stewart sat on the bed, rubbing his temples.

“I’m digging this guy.” Ryker liked the human’s sense of humor, and thankfully, this mate wasn’t running from someone.

Hyett gazed at Ryker, his mouth dropped open slightly. “Go downstairs before I have to dig a grave in the backyard, moron.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ryker joined his dad, and of course, he found Quinton and Ethan sprawled out on the living room rug playing with the cub’s toys. The tension from earlier seemed to evaporate, replaced by the innocent laughter of a child.

“Uncuh Dyke! Pay!” Ethan said when he looked up to see Ryker standing there. The kid had an excited gleam in his eyes.

Now who could pass up that invitation? With a sigh that was more for show than anything else, Ryker dropped to the floor, earning a delighted squeal from Ethan. An hour later, he went upstairs to check on Stewart, only to find the man nearly burrowed under the bear, fast asleep.

* * * *

Tetlow’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as he navigated his way to his boss’s place. There was never a good reason to show up at Nico’s without a clean, resolved outcome. Favorable news was a rarity in their line of work, but problems that couldn’t be swept under the rug were unacceptable.

His palms were starting to sweat despite the cold outside, causing him to turn down the heat a notch. The last thing he needed was to arrive looking like he had just finished running a marathon. Tetlow needed to appear in control, like he had everything in hand.

The more he thought about it, the more Alonso’s incompetence burned like acid in his gut. It wasn’t just an inconvenience—it was an active liability. The idea that Alonso thought he could dump his mess on Tetlow was infuriating.

Taking a moment to roll his shoulders, he drew in a steady breath. If Nico even caught a whiff of fear—real or imagined—he’d latch onto it. Not literally, though that was a possibility considering Nico was a demon. The less Tetlow had to think about that, the better.

He pulled into the driveway of the nondescript house. It looked harmless from the outside, just an average suburban home. That had made it the perfect place for their operations. Nobody expected anything sinister from a place with a white picket fence and a wreath on the door. Hell, there were even garden gnomes in the front yard. Tetlow shook his head, suppressing a smirk. The place was an absolute joke, on the outside—and a damn effective one.

After exiting the car, Tetlow checked his appearance quickly in the driver-side mirror. He adjusted his jacket, making sure it hung just right, his collar flat, his expression calm. No point in letting anyone inside think he wasn’t in complete control.

Knocking twice on the door, he pushed it open and let himself in. The inside was a stark contrast to the postcard-perfect exterior. Smoke hung in the air, lingering like regret, while a few men lounged on the worn leather sofas, their eyes turning toward him as he entered. The tension was thick, an unspoken understanding that anyone who entered this house came in with stakes—either power or a death wish.

“Where’s Nico?” Tetlow kept his voice steady, with just enough authority to ensure the men knew not to keep him waiting.

One of the men jerked his head toward the back of the house. Tetlow nodded in acknowledgment before making his way to the door at the far end of the hallway. He paused and took a deep breath before turning the handle and stepping inside.

The room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn. Nico was behind his desk, cigar perched between his fingers as he flipped through a stack of papers, his crimson eyes barely flicking up as Tetlow entered. For a moment, the silence in the room seemed to stretch, the tension almost palpable. The kind that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Tetlow,” Nico drawled, his voice like silk over shattered glass, a dangerous edge beneath the smoothness. “This better be good. You know I don’t like my evenings interrupted.”

With a forced smile, Tetlow stepped forward. “Nico, always a pleasure. Got a bit of an issue with the stash house.” He kept his tone light, like he was announcing a trivial problem, not a near catastrophe. “Alonso, well, the idiot ran into some...complications. Apparently, Frank's rented the place out. Two men and a toddler are there now.” He shrugged, the motion almost casual. “And Alonso, as you’d expect, panicked.”

Nico stared at him, the tip of his cigar glowing as he took a slow drag. The smoke curled from his mouth like a serpent, his crimson gaze never leaving Tetlow’s face. The silence grew heavier, pressing down, like the weight of a thousand unspoken threats.

“You’re telling me,” Nico said slowly, “that our product is sitting in a house with civilians?” He paused, the corners of his lips curling slightly, though the amusement didn’t reach his eyes. And Alonso just... panicked?”

Tetlow could feel the weight of Nico’s stare, like a blade pressed to his neck. But he simply nodded, his own expression unreadable. “I’ve got it under control. No one knows anything, and we want to keep it that way. The merchandise will be moved. Frank’s tenants won't be any the wiser.” He offered a confident smile. “With finesse, of course.”

Nico raised an eyebrow, leaning back. The chair creaked under his weight, and he took another puff of his cigar. “Finesse?” he echoed, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “You think Alonso is capable of finesse?”

Tetlow allowed himself a small, controlled exhale then shook his head. “No. Which is why I’m taking care of it personally. Alonso’s out. He’s proven he’s not cut out for this work.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed, the amusement fading. He leaned forward, the desk creaking under his weight, as if it shared his anger. “You’re damn right he’s out. And if you don’t get that product moved by tomorrow, you’ll be out too, Tetlow. Permanently.”

The implied threat hung in the air, but Tetlow kept his posture relaxed, dipping his chin in acknowledgment. “Understood, Nico. I’ll take care of it.”

Nico watched him for a beat longer before finally waving his hand in dismissal. “Get out of my sight. And Tetlow?”

Pausing at the door, Tetlow glanced back. “Yes?”

Nico's eyes glinted, his voice almost a purr. “Don’t screw this up. You know what happens if you do.”

He nodded, his throat tight. “Of course, Nico.”

Stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him, Tetlow felt the weight of Nico’s words pressing down on him. He wasn’t frightened, but he wasn’t stupid either—he knew Nico could and would make good on his threats if it came to that—but fear wasn’t something Tetlow indulged. Not when he had a job to do. He walked back through the living room, ignoring the curious stares of the men lounging there.

Outside, the cold air bit at Tetlow’s face, and he relished it. Slipping back into his car, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the gnome-adorned house without looking back. He had less than twenty-four hours to fix this, but that was enough. It had to be.

“Frank’s renters,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “What kind of idiot moves a kid into a place like that?”

He let out a dark snarl, his eyes narrowing on the road ahead. Time to make some calls. Alonso was out, which meant Tetlow needed new hands. Reliable hands. Ones that didn’t shake or question orders.

The wheels in his mind turned as he considered his options, each name that came to mind weighed and measured. This wasn’t just about moving product. This was about control. Alonso’s mistake had given him a chance—one Tetlow intended to seize fully. Nico might be a demon, but Tetlow knew how to play the game too.

And he intended to win.