We all knew that was bullshit.

  Even I didn’t believe me.

  Then Roan looked at me, really looked, and something in his expression cracked.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said finally, voice low and solid. “Don’t care if it kills me. I’m staying.”

  That admission hit like a shot of adrenaline, lighting something up in my chest. Not relief, not exactly. Just… certainty.

  Jay tilted his head slightly, like he was studying the two of us. Then, after a long moment, he said, “Then we stop pretending this is normal. We stop tiptoeing around it.”

  Roan arched a brow. “And do what, exactly?”

  Jay’s lips curved, just slightly. “We make it sport.”

  We both stared at him.

  “Sport?” I repeated.

  Jay shrugged, as if what he’d just said wasn’t completely insane. “She’s a professional. A fighter. Strategist. She’s always had the upper hand with us, always out-thought us, out-maneuvered us. If she wants this—wants us—then we don’t just give in. We don’t coddle her. We make her earn it.”

  Roan crossed his arms slowly, wariness creeping in. “Earn it how?”

  “We hunt her,” Jay said simply. “We let her try to escape, try to outsmart us. But she knows what happens if she gets caught.”

  He said it with that maddening beta calm, but there was heat under it. The kind of quiet, building promise that made the room feel smaller.

  “This is insane,” I muttered, but I could already feel my instincts snapping to attention.

  My pulse kicked. My skin buzzed. My mouth went dry.

  Every alpha instinct I had screamed yes.

  Roan looked over at Jay, then down at the floor like he was checking his soul for cracks. Then, finally—his voice a rasp—he asked, “Are you sure you’re a beta?”

  Jay smirked. But before he could answer, a soft click split the tension in half.

  We all turned.

  The bedroom door had opened behind Roan, and she stood there—barefoot, robe hanging off one shoulder, hair a wild halo around her flushed face. Her eyes burned gold, glowing in the low light, and her skin shimmered with sweat and scent and something more.

  She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. Every molecule in the air shifted. And my heart. Fuck. It stopped. Then came roaring back to life, all at once. Wren. Bedraggled, beautiful, blazing.

  More perfect than I had ever let myself admit.

  Roan was frozen in front of her, tension radiating off his back like a living thing. Jay had gone still too, his expression unreadable—but ready.

  But me? I took a step forward, because I knew. The game had already started.

  “I’ll do it.” The words fell from her lips like a match hitting gasoline.

  Every single molecule in me ignited.

  A low, guttural sound rumbled out of my chest before I even realized I was making it. It wasn’t human—wasn’t civilized. It was raw, primal, mine. The kind of growl that came from someplace buried so deep in me I hadn’t heard it in years.

  I barely resisted the urge to fist pump like some kind of lunatic. The sheer adrenaline, the electric punch of yes that ripped through me, was too much. Too hot. Too consuming.

  She’d said yes.

  Not to safety. Not to retreat.

  To us.

  To this.

  The possessiveness that slammed through me hit with the same force as the need—hard enough that I had to curl my fingers into fists before I reached for her and ruined everything before it started.

  Jay, of course, was the only one whose voice stayed steady. Calm as always, even when every line of his body betrayed the same pulse of hunger that had me half-feral.

  “You have to really run, Wren,” he said, tone low, deliberate. “You can’t just let us catch you. If you give in—if you surrender—then we won’t do anything.”

  I wanted to goggle at him for being able to say that like it was simple. Like his restraint wasn’t hanging by the same thin thread mine was.

  But I got it.

  Hell, I respected it.

  He was giving her agency—her choice. That mattered.

  Even if every instinct in me was screaming to skip the whole damn chase and bury myself inside her so deep that we’d never figure out where I ended and she began.

  The fog in my head thickened, wrapping around thought and sense until it was just scent and sound and need. Then Roan moved. A sharp slash of his hand through the air—fast, decisive.

  It was like he’d sliced through the tether of her scent, forcing a breath of clean air into the haze. I gasped in something deeper than oxygen.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” Roan asked, voice low but firm. The words were jagged steel, forged in control. “Tell me you understand what we’re saying. Tell me you understand what will happen.”

  Wren’s chin lifted.

  God, that chin.

  Eyes blazing, mouth soft but sure. That bright intelligence in her stare, sharp enough to cut through every drop of logic I had left, met Roan’s head-on.

  The queen in her had woken.

  “I run,” she said, voice steady and clear, though the air around her vibrated with heat. “You hunt. If you catch me, you can have me.”

  Roan’s jaw flexed, but she wasn’t done.

  Her gaze cut to me, then to Jay, then back again.

  “But you each have to catch me,” she added, her tone almost wicked.

  For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

  Oh, she was good.

  She was adding rules. A challenge. A layer of control laced with pure, devastating temptation.

  “Just because one of you does,” she continued, “doesn’t mean the others get me. But if you do succeed…”

  She paused—long enough that the silence in the cabin turned thick and alive.

  “I want everything,” she said finally. Her voice had gone husky, molten. “I want your knots. I want to feel you marking me. I want…”

  Her gaze flicked across each of us, deliberate, scorching.

  “…you.”

  The word detonated inside me.

  That she said you—and meant all of us—was a blazing, neon go sign that hit my bloodstream like liquid fire.

  Roan tilted his head back, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply, like he needed the confirmation of her scent to believe what he’d just heard. His voice, when it came, was roughened with heat and tension.

  “Fine,” he said. “Then get dressed.”

  My pulse hammered.

  “It’s cold out there,” he went on, eyes locked on her. “You get a thirty-minute head start.”

  The faintest smile curved her lips. Dangerous. Wicked.

  “Thirty minutes,” she repeated. “That’s generous.”

  Roan’s mouth twitched, but his voice was pure command. “You’ll need it.”

  She tilted her head, that smile deepening—then turned and disappeared back into the bedroom, the sway of her hips doing obscene things to every nerve in my body.

  The door clicked softly behind her.

  For a long, heavy moment, the only sound was our breathing—ragged, uneven, charged.

  Then Jay let out a quiet, almost reverent exhale.

  “Well,” he murmured, lips curving. “Game on.”

  Chapter

  Twenty-One

  WREN

  The crisp morning air bit at my skin as I stepped out of the cabin, each breath sharp and cold against the heat simmering beneath. Snow crunched underfoot, the ground a blinding white canvas that seemed to stretch endlessly into the woods, the trees standing like silent sentinels.

  The cold wasn’t enough to cut through the wildfire inside me, the heat that still thrummed in my veins—a constant reminder of my body’s primitive needs, the biological imperative that was currently consuming me.

  The bite of the wind barely registered as I walked, boots sinking into the snow with each step, the rhythm of my pulse matching the crunching beneath me. The woods were quiet, peaceful in a way that made the tension in the air feel all the more pronounced.

  They’re watching.

  Roan, Rhett, Jay—each of them a force, a presence. Each of them an ache I didn’t know if I could survive. They were watching me and the weight of their regard was a physical caress against my senses. Liquid heat pooled between my thighs and soaked my panties. I had no doubt that it would soak through my leggings, but at least the snow suit was water proof.

  The rub of the fabric of my bra against my nipples was a new torment. Masturbating did nothing for me now. And I tried after Roan left me in the bedroom as need vibrated through me. Vibrantly aware of them out there, I’d tried to stroke my clit to get to orgasm.

  No matter how much force I applied or how I rotated my fingers against the swollen bundle of nerves, it didn’t work. I clung there, right on the edge, hearing their voices like the most tantalizing moments of edging, but it wasn’t enough. The orgasm wouldn’t come and all it did was leave me aching and hungry for more.

  For them.

  I was starving for them.

  My thoughts scrambled more and more as I moved deeper into the woods, my body on fire and yet so cold. The storm raging inside me now was as much a battlefield as a sensation. Imagining their touch clung to me, and I couldn’t escape it. The way they'd looked at me, spoken to me—the things they'd promised, things I wanted.

  But it wasn’t just about the heat anymore. It wasn’t just about the hunger that made my blood burn. It was them. Their connection to me, the raw, undeniable attraction. I needed to test it. Needed to know just how far it could stretch before we all broke.

  Though if they’d just taken me right there…

  Eyes closed, I pressed a hand against a tree and stopped to suck in icy cold gulps of air. Oh, I could feel how good it would have been. At the same time, Roan told me to make them work for it. To make them capture me. It appealed to all parts of me, even the one who wanted to just lay down and spread my legs until they filled me over and over.

  Shoving away from the tree, I tried to chase the images away at the same moment. The scent of them was inside of me now, I could taste their musk and their need like it was my own. I wanted more though. So, legs burning with effort and the trees closing around me like a maze, I pushed on.

  I was leaving a trail a toddler could fucking follow. A glance over my shoulder revealed where I’d plodded through the snow, sinking up to my mid-calves over and over. Pausing again, I frowned. The fog clouding my thoughts parted briefly as I tilted my head and began to sweep the area around me with a studying gaze.

  A trail that blazingly obvious would not provide them with a challenge. In fact, it was an open invitation that just said, here I am, come and get me. Irritation sparked off the dark, delectable voice that pointed out, “the sooner they find you, the sooner you get fucked.”

  Except, I reminded both that bitchy inner monologue as well as myself, Roan made it clear if I didn’t at least attempt to give them a challenge, I wouldn’t get shit.

  One of us snorted. Then I giggled. I had to slap a gloved hand over my mouth at the sound. I didn’t giggle. Or titter. Or make little girly noises of any kind. My cunt clenched on emptiness. It would continue to flex around that great, big fat nothing if I didn’t make them work for it.

  Decide. I told myself. Decide if you really want them. Cause you can just give up right now, go back to the cabin and live through this hell until it’s over. It won’t kill you.

  It wouldn’t.

  Heat sucked to just ride it out. Might suck epically after all these years on suppressants. But I would survive it. The only drawback is all four of us would be in this sensory hell instead of just me.

  “No,” I whispered against my gloved hand as I took another searching look at the area around me. I wanted more. That meant I had to make them work for more. To do that, I had to work smarter. I closed my eyes, braced a gloved hand against a tree and took three, long, controlled breaths and released them.

  The icy cold air washed through me. The breeze shifted and it filled my nose with the fresh scents of pine, snow, and cold. There were hints of an oncoming storm. More snow. Every breath flushed out some of the haze.

  How long would it last? I had no idea. The forest was beautiful, serene in its harshness, but there was no peace for me here. Not anymore. Not⁠—

  A rustle behind me, a whisper in the wind…

  I turned, searching the area but nothing moved save for the wind nudging the trees. The pines waved. The clouds had crowded out the sun, and it was growing darker. Holding, still, I let the air movement bring me scents from the direction of the cabin.

  Nothing but snow, trees, and…

  I needed to move. Shifting my weight, I angled uphill and away from the hollow I’d been wading through. The snow drifts tended to be shallower up here. I wound my way through the trees. The trickle of water over rocks drew my attention.

  The river.

  There was an arm of it that cut through here, the shores on both sides were rocky. They would be slick with the ice, but the water movement said it wasn’t totally frozen. If I could make it there, I could muddy the scent trail.

  Adrenaline-fueled excitement spilled into my blood and I found a fresh burst of energy.

  It was barely more than a creek in most places—fed from the mountains, icy even in summer—but in winter, it was a calculated gamble. The rocks along the banks would be slick, the water running just fast enough to stay partially unfrozen. The temperature alone would be a shock to my system, but if I made it across without eating shit or breaking something, it might be enough to throw them off. At least for a while.

  I cut my way through the trees, moving faster now that the terrain sloped up and the snow wasn’t swallowing my legs with every step. I slid, stumbled, but kept pushing forward. The cold scraped at my cheeks, biting deep into the exposed skin, but that pain kept my head clear.

  Focus. Stay sharp. Keep moving.

  There were eyes on me again.

  I couldn’t hear anything. No footsteps. No breathing. But my instincts screamed. The skin between my shoulder blades prickled like a hot brand had been pressed there. Something was behind me. Watching. Tracking.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing.

  But I felt it.

  They were getting closer.

  The raw need that had settled into me—the firestorm licking through my veins—flared hotter at that thought. They were hunting me. Their blood was up. Their need as visceral and feral as mine.

  I wanted them to catch me. I wanted to feel their hands, their mouths, their bodies...

  But not yet.

  My boots hit rocky earth, the snow thinner here, scattered between broken stone and skeletal branches. The river cut across the forest like a jagged wound, steam rising faintly from the frigid surface. The sound of it—the steady burble and splash of water over rocks—muffled the forest's natural silence.

  I picked my way down the incline and slipped once, knees cracking against the frozen ground, breath hissing between my teeth. I caught myself on a low branch and crawled to the edge.

  The water was deeper in the center, moving fast enough to bite. I could see the places where it had frozen in sheets along the edges, and I wasn’t stupid enough to try stepping on them.

  Still… I had to move. I had to throw them off.

  I waded in.

  It took time for the temperature of the water to slice through the waterproof clothing. Normally, I was not a fan of knives being sliced over me, but it helped keep my mind clear. By the time I was midstream, the icy current threatened to crest the high waist and that would suck as the cold water would soak down the inside of my clothes. Still, I pushed through as my whole body kept threatening to go rigid at the idea.

  On the far side, I slipped again, nearly went down face-first, but caught myself. My gloves were holding up—barely. Some water crept under the elastic hem of my ski pants and soaked into the top of one boot. A part of me could practically hear the crunching of ice. The only thing keeping my limbs moving now was pure will and the lingering bite of my heat, still buzzing through my system like a live wire.

  I paused long enough to circle back, doubling over my tracks and stepping across fallen logs to confuse any trail. The wind helped, too—shifting behind me, carrying scent away from the direction I moved.

  Smart, Wren, I told myself, even as my teeth began to chatter. Keep it smart.

  Adrenaline surged in my system, sharpening my focus and giving me some clarity of thought I’d begun to believe I’d lost entirely. Not knowing how long it would last, I just went with it.

  The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon now. Dusk swallowed the forest in deepening shades of blue and gray. The wind picked up, whispering through the branches above, and for the first time, I felt the first real warning bite of another storm moving in.

  Good. That would help, too.

  I kept heading west, using the sun’s dying glow as it slid beneath the clouds as a guide. The hills rolled in that direction, and if I remembered the map correctly, there was an old hunting cabin tucked between a couple of ridges. One that had been available for rental like the one I’d taken.

  Shelter. Maybe even a fire if I could get one going. That would be the smart play.

  But wariness crept in again. I hadn’t heard them—hadn’t seen them—but that sense hadn’t left me. The one that said I was prey. Being watched. Being stalked.

  No matter how clear-headed I tried to be, my body betrayed me with every step. I was cold. Damp. But I still ached for them. Still throbbed between my thighs with every jolt of footfall.

  This wasn’t just heat anymore. It was something bigger. Something deeper.

  That something was getting harder to ignore.

  I didn’t stop moving. I couldn’t. Not yet. But my limbs were getting heavier, my breath shorter, and the pull of the heat inside me was turning into a dragging weight. Like it wanted to pull me down. Make me collapse into the snow and wait for them.

  But that wasn’t the deal. That wasn’t the game.