Chapter 4 SCUFFLE

Ezra’s Pov

I was walking home from my bartending shift at Rosie's. It was 2 AM, I was exhausted, and I just wanted to collapse into bed. The streets were mostly empty except for a few drunk college kids and some homeless people sleeping in doorways.

I’d have to be quiet when I got to the apartment. Sienna had called today and—

I didn't see them until they stepped out of an alley.

Two men who were big, like the ones from the park, wearing dark clothes. They had knives glinting in their hands and their eyes immediately locked on me.

"Ezra Hartley?" one of them said.

Every survival instinct I'd developed from my cartel days kicked in. "No."

They ignored me moving closer, backing me into a literal corner. "We’re pretty sure you know something with Kiernan hanging around you. Plus we have reason to believe you were at a park last week when you shouldn’t have been.”

Were they wolves too? My heart rate picked up and I tried to keep my voice casual as I said, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Come with us. We'll make this quick."

I backed up, hand reaching for my pepper spray. What the fuck was ‘this’? My death? "Hard pass."

They moved fast. The first guy grabbed my arm, forcing it out of my bag, yanking hard enough to send pain shooting through my shoulder. The second guy came at me with the knife.

I fought, punched, bit, did every dirty trick my uncle had taught me before I sent him to prison. 

I got the first guy in the balls, made the second guy drop his knife but they were bigger, stronger, and there were two of them. The first guy pinned my arms, the second guy grabbed my hair, slammed my head against the brick wall.

Pain exploded through my skull. My vision blurred and I tasted blood.

"Got him," I heard the second guy hiss from what sounded like far away. "Pick him up, let’s go!”

Fucking hell! I survived the cartel just to be thrown into a world of werewolves. How would I—

Something massive slammed into him. He went flying, hit a dumpster twenty feet away, and didn't get back up.

Kieran stood where the guy had been, eyes glowing amber, face twisted in rage that was barely controlled. The other man dropped me and ran. Smart move.

Kieran didn't chase him, he immediately turned to me, and the rage in his expression melted into something that looked almost like fear. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." I tried to stand. My legs didn't cooperate. "Just— fuck."

Kieran caught me before I hit the ground. "You're bleeding. Head wound."

His hands were gentle despite the violence I'd just seen him capable of. Even though it was done for me, the thought of it, I shook. I was very familiar with violent men. "It's fine."

"It's not fine." 

It wasn’t. I felt faint and I would have moved away if I could. He was already pulling out his phone. "Julius, I need you at Capitol Hill, the alley behind Rosie's. Bring the car."

"I don't need—" My vision blurred again. "Shit."

"Don't pass out,” he said quickly, sounding far  away.

"Not passing out,” I mumbled. I was definitely passing out.

The world tilted, and everything went black.

---

I woke up in the softest bed I'd ever been in, which immediately told me I wasn't home. Our mattress had springs that actively tried to kill you in your sleep.

Kieran sat in a chair by the window, watching me with an expression I couldn't read. In the light of day, features were sharp; the thick brows, the broad shoulders, the eyes glowed like they had last night… when he had killed yet another person.

My heartrate sped up. "Where am I?"

"My apartment."

I sat up, ignoring the way my head spun. “I have to go.”

“Go where?” he asked, moving quickly out of his chair. I reared back when he was suddenly in front of me. “You’re still hurt.”

“If you don’t let me leave, that’s kidnapping,” I said, eyeing the hand by my head on the headboard. 

He sighed and stepped back and I felt my heart slow. "Those men were hunters. They're looking for me, and they know you're connected to me. You're not safe." He stood, moving to the bed. "You're officially a target and they will come back."

"So what?” My head pulsed some more. “I have to stay here?”

He shrugged. “You are free to leave but hunters will find you within a day.”

I put my painting head into my hands. Thinking about all this was making it hurt more. "This is insane."

He handed me a glass of water and two pills. "Painkillers. Your head hit concrete. You'll have a concussion."

"How long do I have to stay here?" I asked, reaching for the outstretched help.

"Until I figure out how to deal with the hunters. A few days. Maybe a week."

I gulped it down, hoping it would start working immediately. "I have classes and work."

"I'll handle it."

"You can't just—"

"I said, I'll handle it. Just rest.”

He looked at me for a moment longer before he walked out, leaving me in his guest room, and I stared at the door for a long time before I noticed a black duffel bag on the chair, a familiar-looking black duffle bag. Groaning, I stood and went to it. 

My clothes. Someone had been to my apartment and packed my things. I blinked at the bag.

This couldn't be real life. I was basically being held hostage by a werewolf as protection from fucking hunters.