Trinity was drunk, gloriously so. A happy, bubbly intoxication she hadn't experienced in years, not since her partying days had dwindled to a rare occasion. Her alcohol tolerance, predictably, was now laughably low. The steady stream of drinks she and the guys had been sharing had hit her fast and hard, leaving her giggling and lightheaded.
Grayson watched the pair, a small, fond smile tugging at his lips. They were being utter fools, Ryan twirling Trinity with clumsy enthusiasm, her laughter echoing through the bar. But beneath the surface amusement, he saw his brother's genuine happiness at having her there. For a fleeting moment, Grayson had even entertained the notion that Ryan might finally act on the simmering connection between them, that unspoken something that hovered between close friendship and something more. Yet, as always, their dynamic remained a comfortable, if intensely close, platonic bond.
Then, his gaze drifted back to Trinity as she spun, her joy infectious. The alcohol in his own system, a weak attempt to numb the persistent ache of Olivia's betrayal, seemed to sharpen his perception instead. He saw Trinity anew. Womanly. The realization struck him with an odd jolt. She had always been beautiful in a youthful way, but now… now she possessed a startling, unnerving beauty. It was becoming increasingly difficult to see her solely as his brother's friend, the girl they had allowed into their tightly guarded family circle. She was undeniably an attractive woman, and the drinks had loosened the reins on his thoughts, allowing his mind to wander down paths it shouldn't, to dwell on the undeniable allure Trinity now possessed.
The years they had been away felt like a chasm. He had been firm with Ryan, forbidding any contact with her. It wasn't a matter of distrusting Trinity; her loyalty was unwavering, almost to a fault. But their world was complicated, dangerous, and she didn't belong in it. When they had left, severing ties had been the only way to ensure her safety, to prevent her from following them into the unknown had she known their destination.
Trinity, unlike many others, had no real anchors tying her down. A part of him had always known she would likely still be here, in this familiar place, with nowhere else pressing to go. And if she stayed, the chances of their paths crossing again, however much he tried to prevent it, were always there. Her fierce loyalty, a trait he both admired and worried about, wouldn't change their fundamental circumstances.
His gaze lingered on her. Her black hair, thick and glossy, cascaded down her back, swaying just above the curve of her hips with each movement. The years had indeed been kind to her. The boyish slenderness he remembered had softened into a more curvaceous, undeniably seductive figure.
He hadn't missed the way her rain-dampened clothes had clung to her when she first entered the bar, outlining her newfound shape with unflinching clarity. His eyesight, honed to a razor's edge by his wolf blood, had registered every detail.
Her bright blue eyes, sparkling with unadulterated joy, suddenly locked onto his. A wide, inviting smile stretched across her lips as she reached out, her small hand finding his. She tugged, a silent invitation to join her in her drunken revelry. He could only manage a grin in response, rooted to the spot.
Ryan, catching his eye, lifted his pack of cigarettes and gestured towards the door. Grayson nodded almost imperceptibly.
Then, yielding to Trinity's persistent tug, he relented. He pulled her closer, and she stepped into his embrace with a delighted giggle.
A sweet, intoxicating warmth radiated from her as her hands circled his waist, her gaze lifting to meet his. It was an innocent gesture, yet the proximity, the trust in her bright eyes, sent a jolt of something primal through him. He wasn't sure if she had any inkling of the effect she was having.
He felt himself being drawn into the moment, a magnetic pull he couldn't resist. Leaning forward, his hand instinctively found the nape of her neck, his thumb brushing against the soft skin there. She was so much smaller than him, but in that instant, the difference in their height only amplified the sudden, fierce protectiveness that surged within him, warring with a more carnal urge. He lowered his head, pulling her closer as he simultaneously lifted her slightly, his lips crashing onto hers.
The contact was electric. Her lips, soft and plump and undeniably pink, parted slightly beneath his. A deep, possessive kiss, fueled by alcohol and a sudden, potent lust, erupted between them. Grayson felt the familiar shift within him, the tips of his wolf's claws extending almost imperceptibly beneath his skin. He fought to keep the transformation hidden within the thick strands of her hair, a desperate battle to control the raw, untamed beast within. His wolf, awakened by her nearness, by the intoxicating scent of her, was far rougher, more primal. A terrifying thought flashed through his mind: unrestrained, his wolf might tear her apart.
Trinity was stunned. Utterly, breathtakingly shocked. Grayson? Kissing her? It felt like a dream, an impossible fantasy suddenly made real. A wave of pure, unadulterated delight washed over her. Never in her wildest, most secret imaginings had she dared to conjure this moment. Leaning into the unexpected intimacy, she opened her mouth slightly, a silent invitation for more, relinquishing control without a second thought. Her lungs screamed for air, but she ignored the desperate plea, willing to suffocate if it meant prolonging the unbelievable sensation of his lips on hers. This was it. The earth had shifted. Nothing would ever be the same.
Abruptly, the kiss ended. Grayson pulled back, his hands gripping her shoulders, his knuckles white. His brow was furrowed, his intense gaze fixed on the bar's entrance. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone. One moment he was there, his touch still burning on her lips, the next he was a blur of motion, disappearing out the door as if the building were ablaze.
What in God's name was happening? Disoriented but spurred by a sudden, chilling premonition, Trinity fumbled for some cash on the bar and hurried after him.
Outside, the joyful buzz of moments ago shattered into a horrifying tableau. She saw Ryan being roughly manhandled by a man dressed in a police uniform. But instead of a police car, a Greyhound bus idled at the curb, its windows filled with silent, unnerved faces. Ryan struggled against the officer's grip, his protests muffled. Two other men in identical uniforms held Grayson back with brutal efficiency.
Trinity stared, her mind reeling. This wasn't right. This wasn't how things worked. Why would police officers be herding people onto a Greyhound bus?
Suddenly, one of the officers grappling with Grayson paused, his head snapping up. He took a deep, audible sniff of the air, his eyes locking onto Trinity.
A primal fear, cold and sharp, pierced through her lingering intoxication. She stumbled backward, unsure what to do, her heart hammering against her ribs. The officer's gaze wasn't overtly threatening, but it was undeniably hostile, possessive. He barked something at his companion, leaving him to subdue the struggling Grayson, and began to stride towards her.
"Stop!" Grayson roared, his voice a guttural snarl that didn't sound entirely human. "Leave him alone! He hasn't done anything!" He thrashed against the officer holding him, his muscles bulging, a desperate, animalistic fury radiating from him. Wolves, his inner voice screamed, the scent of them thick and unmistakable in the night air. Three of them, disguised, their predatory aura barely concealed beneath the thin veneer of authority.
Panic seized Trinity. The only instinct she could muster was to scream. She opened her mouth, drawing in a lungful of air. But before the sound could escape, the man was upon her. And then, everything went black. The high of the kiss, the dizzying joy of the evening, plummeted into an abyss of terrifying, unknowable darkness.