Pack Rebels

THEODORE

I had no clue what I was doing here when I promised myself never to step foot in this place.

But like everything that concerned Jordan, I found myself drawn back in, looking for closure. I looked up at the bright bar lights spelling 'CLOSURE' and grimaced.

The universe kept making fun of me. But this time, it was wrong. Jordan would never let me go if I didn't close things off formally. He'd hunt me like a dog until I had nowhere else to turn but to him.

"Come on," the driver said, opening his door. "The boss is waiting for you."

My brows knitted, but I still climbed out of the car. "How did he know I was coming?"

The driver raised a brow at me, and that was all I needed to understand. Jordan always knew, just the same way he had known I was going back to the pack.

I followed the driver, zipping up my hoodie as we passed the bouncers stationed at the entrance, glaring at IDs and barking out orders.

Inside the club, we were greeted by music bouncing from wall to wall, the ground vibrating beneath my feet. When I looked up at the stairs we were walking toward, I saw him.

Jordan. Scattered gray hair under the red light, his eyes following mine as he wiped his hands with a towel. My stomach churned, already hating what I'd see in there.

The experience at the pack house was more than enough for one whole year.

"The boss is in a meeting right now," the driver was saying. "In fact, he was in a meeting when he took your call."

We reached the top of the stairs faster than I wanted. Closer to Jordan, my eyes first caught the blood splattered on his shirt.

And as if to make it clear, two men walked out of the room carrying a black body bag.

"Theodore," Jordan called my name in that slow baritone that sent spikes into my chest, his dull, blank green eyes narrowing back to the door behind him. "I didn't know you were coming."

The driver nodded at Jordan, then walked back to the club without waiting to be acknowledged.

"Your driver says otherwise," I replied, stopping when we were a few steps apart, sticking my cold hands into my pockets.

I tried not to stare at the tattoos creeping out from under his white button-down shirt and the scars. Unlike me, Jordan fit this place. Unlike me, he knew what he wanted.

A small smile hovered over his lips as he traced the scar running down his face. "I didn't know. I just knew you came underground and stayed in a hotel instead of coming to me immediately. Thinking something through?"

He really did know my every move. But there was no sinking feeling—I had gotten used to it already.

Exhaling, he began to walk away from the door, calling over his shoulder, "I messed that room. Come this way, Doc."

I followed him, and before long, we were standing in front of a red door. The red room, as he called it, was just for the boss and anyone he allowed in.

Knowing what I came there for, I knew it was a bad idea to walk in with him. But still, when he pushed it open, I slid in, listening to the door shut and the key turn.

Jordan walked past me to the bathroom, and for minutes, water ran while I took in the room that had almost become my second home.

The king-sized bed with ash bedspread took up most of the space, the silky red curtains giving the room its name, and the matching settee.

On the settee was a black pistol.

"Get this over with and get out of here," I whispered to myself. "Just get out of here."

"Talking to yourself again?" sounded behind me, and I turned to see Jordan standing before the bathroom, drying his now-bare upper body with a towel. "Tell me what's going on in that head. I'm curious."

That body. I swallowed hard, it was as though he had been sculpted by god, his muse another god. I had been meshed against tha... Shit what was I doing?!

In my embarrassment I snapped. "Nothing that is your business."

Jordan smirked, running rough hands through grey hair in a way that set my teeth on edge. "You sure about that?" he asked, his voice lacking humor.

I said nothing, refusing to look at the bed or meet his eyes.

Jordan tossed the towel onto the settee, casually reaching for the pistol. My body tensed. He noticed, of course, and that grin widened. All teeth.

"Relax, Doc," he muttered as his fingers rested on the trigger, quietly closing the space between us until he was standing before me, staring into my face. "You know I'd never hurt you."

I knew that. But he had never picked up a gun and held the trigger before.

My back connected to the wall in an effort to escape his proximity, but that was a mistake. Now I was caged between hard muscles and the cold wall.

"You know what happens when you say things that upset me, right?" he muttered against my ear. "Especially when you've been ignoring me for the past month."

I turned my face away from him, dropping my gaze to the far end of the room.

He chuckled before I felt the cold tip of the gun under my chin, guiding my gaze back to his. "You know what happens, right?"

"Jordan, quit it—"

The tip pressed harder. His tone didn't change. "Say it. What happens, Theodore?"

My ears burned despite myself, and with my heart thudding, I muttered, "You'll fuck me till I pass out."

Jordan nodded approvingly. "I'm glad we understand each other."

My guts twisted. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of tobacco made the sinking feeling even worse. I had to tell him. I needed to tell him.

But without warning, he took my lips. It was slow, deliberate, seductive—just like the way he had trapped me in his world. The human hybrid who hated everything and wanted it all to burn.

I gave in, like I always did. And I always would if I didn't do what I came here to do. But not now, not when he kept taking—owning my tongue, my breath, and perhaps my soul.

The gun dropped, and I felt his hand slide to the back of my neck as the other traced my only tattoo—the one on my lower back that he had drawn.

He pulled back, breathing hard, looking into my eyes, his lazy green ones now clouded. Then his fingers began working on my zipper.

"I fucking missed you," he murmured against my neck. "Fuck, I need you now. Right fucking now."

And without warning Staring at the ceiling as he fumbled with my zipper, I let out, "Alexei wants me at the pack. I won't be coming back."

I felt him tense against me, felt his heartbeat grow quiet. For a moment, his human side slipped, and he growled.

He looked into my eyes, searching, but I kept my expression numb so he couldn't read the thoughts in my head.

His thumb caressed the center of my throat, his lazy pupils torn between actions. And then he smiled faintly. "Did you read the note?"

"I can't join you," I replied. "This place isn't for me. Calm is more my thing."

He stretched out his hands, pupils burning my frame. "Is that really it? Or have you found someone who can fill your little hole better than I can?" He reached out, grasping my chin, glaring into my eyes. "Do your Alpha brothers know how bad you're down for it? How bad you could be anyone's little slut?"

I said nothing, hoping he saw in my eyes that I wasn't changing my mind. He did, and his response was to kiss me again.

But this time, it was hard, punishing, and brutal. I knew he was deliberately leaving bruises, but giving him the satisfaction of wincing was too lenient.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, fingers digging into my skin while his other hand slid lower. "You upset me, Doc. It's like you get off on causing me pain."

"Urgh." I flinched as the sharp edge of his teeth grazed my neck. He lifted me up so my legs wrapped around his waist, his hard-on digging into the thick fabric of my pants.

The light above me became hazy.

"Let's see..." he whispered. "Let's see how long you'll be able to stay away from me... Doc."