Page 12 of Talk Howly to Me

Despite the gravity of their situation, Kozue found himself smiling wider. "Good night, Ronan."

The short walk to his own suite felt longer than usual, his mind buzzing with everything that had transpired in the past few hours. The familiar hallway stretched before him, moonlight streaming through the tall windows and casting silver patterns across the hardwood floors.

Once inside his suite, Kozue moved through the spacious main room toward his bedroom, the silence feeling heavier than usual after the charged atmosphere of Ronan's suite. The massive four-poster bed dominated the far wall, its dark wood frame and forest green bedding offering the promise of rest his exhausted body craved. He collapsed onto the mattress without bothering to undress, his mind still reeling from the night's revelations. The soft bedding enveloped him, but sleep felt impossibly distant with his wolf pacing restlessly and his thoughts consumed by hazel eyes and cautious smiles.

How am I going to handle this?

The question echoed in his mind as he stared up at the ceiling, shadows dancing across the exposed beams as moonlight filtered through the windows. Everything he thought he knew about his future had changed in the span of an evening, and tomorrow he would have to find a way to navigate the most complicated situation of his life while making the woman downstairs feel safe and welcome.

His mate. Their mate. The woman fate had chosen for both of them.

FIVE

SLOANE

Consciousness returned like a slow tide, carrying Sloane from the depths of the most peaceful sleep she'd experienced in twenty-six years. Her eyes fluttered open to unfamiliar surroundings that sent her heart racing before memory caught up with disorientation.

Where am I?

This wasn't the cramped studio apartment she'd called home for the past eight months—that claustrophobic box wedged above the smoke shop where the scent of cigarettes and incense perpetually seeped through the floorboards. There, her narrow bed pressed against the wall beneath a single window that offered nothing but a view of cracked pavement and the endless stream of city life below, while the constant hum of traffic, shouting voices, and sirens had become the soundtrack of her survival.

This… this was something else entirely.

Sloane bolted upright in the expansive bed, her fighter's instincts cataloging every detail of the luxurious suite surrounding her. Morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating rich hardwood floors and elegant furnishings that belonged in a mansion rather than her reality. The bed itself could have housed three people comfortably, draped in linens softer than anything she'd ever touched.

Hale Lodge. The wilderness retreat. Ronan and Kozue.

The memories of the previous night crashed back—the underground fight, the attempted kidnapping, Gerri's mysterious appearance, and the two impossibly attractive men who'd offered her sanctuary without question. She pressed her palms against her temples, trying to process the whiplash transition from her violent, precarious existence to this cocoon of comfort and safety.

"I need to talk to Ronan and Kozue right now," she muttered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I can't afford this type of luxury. They must have something more affordable."

The hardwood felt cool beneath her bare feet as she padded to the windows, drawn by the breathtaking panorama beyond the glass. Towering peaks stretched endlessly into the distance, their snow-capped summits catching the morning light like diamonds. Dense forest carpeted the valleys below in every shade of green imaginable, and she could hear the distant sound of rushing water—probably a stream or waterfall hidden somewhere in the wilderness.

It was the most beautiful view she'd ever seen. It was also the most terrifying.

What is my plan?

The question echoed in her mind as she stared out at the vast expanse of mountains and trees. Go back to the city? Return to the underground fighting circuit where she'd finally found something she excelled at, where the money was good and the rules were simple? Where those two professional muscle men were undoubtedly still hunting her, along with whoever had sent them?

"No," she said aloud, her breath fogging the glass. "That's not an option."

She couldn't return to her old life. The moment she stepped back into that world, she'd be spotted, captured, and delivered to whatever "employer" wanted to speak with her. And then what? Become someone's possession? Disappear entirely? The possibilities made her stomach clench with dread.

Maybe she could flee to another state, find a different fighting circuit, and start over completely. But if the person behind last night's kidnapping attempt had the resources to track her down once, they likely had connections that stretched far beyond the city limits. Running might just delay the inevitable.

Stay here. Work. See what happens.

The logical part of her mind recognized the wisdom in that approach. Ronan and Kozue had promised she could stay as long as necessary, and that she was safe within these walls. But was she really? Could she trust two men she'd just met, no matter how gracious their hospitality or how her body had reacted to their presence?

The memory of that electric shock when she'd shaken Ronan's hand, the way her pulse had quickened when Kozue's fingers had brushed hers, sent an unwelcome heat spiraling through her. She couldn't afford to be attracted to anyone right now, especially not two men who were clearly close—brothers, business partners, or something else entirely.

Sloane crossed to the dresser where her battered duffel bag sat like a refugee from another world. She unzipped it and stared at the meager contents—two changes of clothes, basic toiletries, and the manila envelope containing her cash. Eleven thousand dollars that had felt like a fortune twelve hours ago now seemed pitifully inadequate for an extended stay at a place like this.

"Two outfits," she said, pulling out a clean pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt. "That's not exactly sustainable for a long-term arrangement."

She'd have to ask about nearby stores, though something told her the closest shopping was probably hours away in whatever passed for civilization in this remote mountain territory. Maybe they had uniforms for employees—that would solve the wardrobe problem and make her lack of possessions less obvious.

The reflection that greeted her in the dresser mirror looked surprisingly well-rested despite the chaos of the previous night. Her brown hair fell in waves past her shoulders, and her hazel eyes held more clarity than they had in months. The cut on her cheek had already begun healing, and the bruising on her knuckles was fading to yellow-green.