KIER
"Get them in, Fang," I barked, swerving the car as the tires screeched across wet asphalt.
"But boss, we haven't heard anything from Alpha yet," Fang said, hesitation bleeding through the line.
My brows pulled tight. "What do you mean? He was supposed to notify you about the drop an hour ago."
There was a pause, filled with nothing but static and Fang's uneasy breath. "We got silence. No code, no ping. I thought maybe he was stalling for a reason."
"He's not stalling," I growled, weaving past a slow-moving truck. "He's either compromised or playing a game he shouldn't be."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Lock down the south exit. Now. No one leaves the district unless they're tagged."
"But if they're tagged, that means…"
"Yeah." I cut him off. "That means they're part of this."
Another pause. Then Fang said, "Copy that. South gate's ours. I'll ping you if anything moves."
I ended the call, jaw tight.
If Alpha was off-script, this was bigger than a missed drop. But I shoved that thought aside. I had somewhere else to be—Genesis was waiting. And if I didn't pull myself together, I'd just take all that tension with me.
I inhaled deeply. Twice. Three times.
Calm. Or as close as I ever got to it.
Soon enough, I pulled onto the avenue near the ballet studio. Through the windshield, I spotted a few ballet students walking by, chatting and smiling, carefree. Some guys too. My grip on the steering wheel tightened—but that didn't mean anything. I told myself that three times.
I parked in the driveway just as the studio doors opened wider.
And then I saw her.
Genesis stood there, smiling as she spoke to two other girls. She wore a pale pink ballet wrap skirt over a white leotard, and her feet were tucked into those soft shoes that made every step look effortless. Her curls were gathered into a bun, though a few strands had escaped, framing her face and bouncing with every slight tilt of her head. She wasn't exactly laughing, but her eyes squinted and her mouth curved up in that soft way she did when something genuinely amused her.
God, she was beautiful.
Even now, just standing there on a busy sidewalk, surrounded by noise and movement, she looked like she didn't belong in this world—like she belonged in a painting. Like the universe had hit pause just for her. The elegant curve of her hips, the way her waist dipped into long legs, and her posture—so straight, so proud—like nothing and no one could ever break her.
Even though I knew she'd already been hurt…badly.
I got out of the car, slamming the door shut harder than I meant to.
The girls she was talking to turned, startled by the sound.
She turned too, slower, her eyes finding mine. That little smile became shy. Her fingers wiggled in the air—her version of a wave.
And just like that, my chest loosened. Just a little. Just enough.
I crossed the distance with long strides, and as I approached, I heard one of the girls whisper, "Wait…isn't that Kieran Blackwood?"
Her friend answered, "...y..yeah I heard that's her husband."
There was a note of surprise in her voice, and I didn't blame her.
Genesis looked young. Not jailbait—not quite—but young enough to turn heads. Still, her eyes held something older. Wiser. Like she'd lived a hundred lives in one body.
"Hey, baby," I said, my voice quieter now, meant only for her.
I reached for her hand. She gave it to me right away, warm and soft in mine.
I looked at the two girls, both wide-eyed.
"She do good today?" I asked.
They nodded like bobbleheads.
"She's amazing," the redhead blurted. "Like… better than half the people who've been here for months."
Genesis looked down, bashful, but I squeezed her hand gently. "You ready to go?"
She nodded, then gestured quickly, her two fingers circling in the air.
I placed my hand around her waist as we walked toward the car, unable to look away from her. There wasn't a single thing in this world more interesting than her, and yet again, I found myself pining.
The way her leotard hugged her figure—damn, it made it impossible not to notice the soft sway of her hips, the elegant curves of her form, even when she was just walking.
She looked like art.
And, God, she was mine.
As soon as I buckled her into the car, I turned, walked to the driver's seat, and slammed the door shut behind me. The second I was in, I pounced on her.
Pressing my hand around her neck, I crushed my lips to hers.
She gasped, caught off guard, but then melted into me, her fingers curling into my shirt as if she never wanted to let go. As if she never wanted to be anywhere else. Damn, that did something to me.
Her lips were soft. I bit down on her bottom lip, and she let out a soft moan. The sound shot straight through my cock. Reluctantly, I pulled away, settling back into my seat, eyes closed, breathing deeply. I pressed my hand against the growing bulge in my pants.
You can't fuck her in the car.
And why not?
Because she must be tired.
Fuck, but I want to.
I argued with my rational side, but the rational side won out. When I opened my eyes, Genesis wore a worried expression.
I smiled, trying to ease her discomfort. "I'm not upset, princess," I said, my voice softer now. "I just want to be inside you right now."
I took her hand and placed it gently against the evidence of my arousal. Her face turned beet red, and she pulled away as if burned. I couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction.
I turned away, trying to push down the desire, and started the car.
When the engine roared to life, I glanced at her again.
"Let's go on a date, princess," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "Is there anywhere you'd like to go, or anything you'd like to eat?"
As I pulled away from the driveway, I noticed her scribbling something on her notepad.
A date?
My hand tightened around the steering wheel as my heart gave a sharp pang. She didn't know what that meant.
I wasn't angry at her. No, of course I wasn't. I understood—these were the scars of abuse, the damage left by people who should've loved her, who should've cared for her. And the more I got to know my wife, the angrier I became at her stepfamily.
But I pushed that away. Tonight was about her, not them.
So I began to explain, my voice steady, but my chest tight.
"Yeah, princess. A date. You know, like—just the two of us. A chance to spend time together, without anything else getting in the way. You tell me where you want to go, and we'll go."