The Wolf and His Wife (Wolf 2)

Arwen rushed to me and wrapped me in her arms. Her face moved into my neck, and she held on to me like she needed the support to stand even though I was the one who’d almost died. She squeezed me tightly then cried into my ear, sobbing for so many reasons.

I was still numb from the transaction, still pumped with adrenaline that overwhelmed my system. My mind wasn’t as sharp as it was because I was in a fog, still recovering from the near-death experience. That could be me lying on the floor, bleeding out everywhere.

But somehow, it wasn’t.

17

Arwen

Maverick was the one who almost died.

But I was the mess.

The second Maverick stepped away from Kamikaze’s dead body, I launched myself into his arms and sobbed into his chest. I already forgave him for pushing me away, for talking down to me like I was a dog that didn’t know how to heel. I was just so relieved he was okay, that the bullet had been meant for his opponent instead.

Now that Kamikaze was dead, Maverick’s arm wrapped around my waist, and he cupped the back of my head. He brought me close to him and let me cry into his chest, supporting me as I combated the horrific sight I just witnessed.

I watched a man shoot himself in the head.

I didn’t care about that. I only cared about the man who was still standing.

“I’m alright, Sheep.” He rested his lips against my temple, becoming the affectionate man I remembered. Now that the threat was over, he dropped his hard-core attitude and returned to the sensitive man who shared my bed.

“I was so scared…” I’d never been so terrified in my life. When I thought that bullet might be for Maverick, I’d thrown myself at Kamikaze and prayed he would take me. I gladly would have gotten on my knees and did anything he asked to spare Maverick’s life.

“I know.” One of his men came to him and handed over the silver gun.

Maverick eyed it before slipping it into the back of his jeans.

“You’re going to keep it…?”

“It’s tradition.”

Maverick sat in the back seat with me, his arms around me as I continued to process the trauma I’d just witnessed. My body wouldn’t stop shaking with fear even though Maverick was with me now. The fact that he had to go through it at all was still troubling.

But now, Kamikaze was dead.

There was no one who wanted to kill me anymore.

My husband saved me. He’d calmly put that gun to his temple and pulled the trigger over and over. “You were so brave…” When Kamikaze had cornered me in the alleyway, I fought against him, but I also panicked. I didn’t keep the calm composure Maverick did. I was fucking terrified.

His chin rested on my head, and he looked out the window as the landscape passed by. The afternoon had faded to night quickly as fall deepened. Lights from the passing houses became brighter in contrast.

I hugged his waist and relied on him as my crutch like I always did. This man married me because he had to, but now he protected me because he wanted to. He was willing to lay down his life for mine just to keep me safe.

How did I get so lucky?

We returned to the house and walked inside like it was an ordinary evening. My arm hooked through his as we walked into the house. I wasn’t this affectionate on a daily basis, but almost losing him made me value him even more.

The smell of dinner was noticeable from the kitchen.

Abigail came out, wearing a black apron with a spot of sauce on the tip of her nose. She wasn’t smiley like usual, looking at Maverick like he was a friend rather than her employer. Her eyes took him in, like she wanted to see his face herself. “You’re back…”

Maverick stepped away from me and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. Wordlessly, he gave her a squeeze to acknowledge her feelings. He dropped his embrace then turned away.

Abigail’s eyes watered as she watched him walk away, affection so bright in her eyes, it was impossible to miss. “Dinner will be served shortly.” She smoothed out her apron then turned around to walk back into the kitchen.

I followed Maverick into the dining room and watched him pour himself a glass of wine as if everything was normal, as if he hadn’t just watched a man shoot himself in the head. He poured a glass for me as well before he set the bottle down.

I sat across from him—numb. “She loves you…”

“Of course she does. I’m her boss.”

“I don’t think that has anything to do with it.” That woman loved him like family. It wasn’t a sibling kind of love or a romantic one. It wasn’t even motherly. It was just love in its purest form.