Did she have some sign on her head that said she was a pushover or desperate? Layla pushed the cart with more force than necessary until she was far enough away from the penthouse suite and then leaned against the wall. Her knees were still shaking, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of the man’s words had said or the man himself. It surprised her she hadn’t fallen flat on her face when she’d made her righteous exit. The men were in the most expensive suite in the exclusive hotel; they didn’t need to ask a stranger to help them out. He might have somehow got a hold of some of her personal information, but everyone in Wolfdale knew about her. The kid abandoned by her mother. The kid who’d had to drop out of school so she could work and take care of her little sister because their father was an alcoholic and a gambling addict. That didn’t mean she had no dignity left. She wouldn’t give up a child! Those men thought they could throw their money around like that, and she

Changed her mind? She would never be able to look him in the eyes again, much less carry his child. “No. I’m sorry, I'm almost finished here,” she said as she threw the used towels into the laundry bag and grabbed fresh ones without turning back to them. What the hell was she thinking? If they told Andrea about this, she would fire her before they even finished talking. She’d be stuck looking for another dead-end job to pay the mounting bills and her father’s debt. Her fingers shook as she buttoned her shirt and tucked it in. She was sweaty again, so she’d cooled herself down for nothing. Embarrassed herself for nothing. She redid her hair and took a calming breath before leaving the bathroom. The men were still standing near the door and still looking pissed off. She couldn’t meet their eyes, instead looking down at her well-worn work shoes. “I’m sorry,” she started. “The heat is too much today. I was just trying to—” “Just keep your clothes on. No one else needs to see that

The car screeched to a stop near the trailer. Layla didn’t bother switching it off as she rushed out of it. Several vehicles were blocking their trailer and the neighbour’s trailers, and several mean-looking assholes stood around. Two of them blocked her way when she tried to run up their short driveway. “Nothing to see here, kid. Get back in your car,” one of them sneered. She assumed the man she had seen that morning was their boss. Why were there so many of them, and why had he returned so soon? Maybe she should have just taken a chance and called the police, but she hadn’t wanted to hang up on Brit in case she could hear what was happening in the background. She was still gripping her phone tightly, but the silence on the other end ripped her apart. “What are you doing? This is my home,” she shouted. “Oh, there’s two of you,” the man said with a grin. “Then, by all means, please go in.” She didn’t stop to think about what he meant as she pushed past them and wrenched the

She was still bleeding. The metallic scent of fresh blood assaulted Jax's nostrils, and the moment he stopped the car in front of the hotel, he shoved the door open and got out without looking back. She’d been hurt, and all his wolf wanted to do was make her feel better. Take care of her as a mate should. The scent had Jax so wound up he had to ball his fists and concentrate on keeping Cain under control. It had taken everything in him not to chase after the last of the men who had taken her from her home and tied her up. He wanted to rip them apart like the others for daring to touch her. He hadn’t lost control like that in a long time. If he gave in to Cain, the demented wolf would do just that. It would take little effort to hunt them down. The attendants opened the hotel's wide double doors the moment they saw him approach the entrance. But he could sense Layla’s hesitation behind him as if somehow this cursed bond had already taken root even though he had no intention of mark

Layla sat in the back of the car exactly an hour later, feeling like Jackson King had bulldozed her. Everything had happened too quickly. Jackson had come back into the room with a gigantic man dressed in all black, who he’d introduced as the head of Brit’s security. Who was Jackson to pull something like this that fast? Why did he have bodyguards on call? His earlier statement about needing to keep her safe went around in her head until it dawned on her that she’d dropped herself into some deeper shit than merely Costas Markopoulos. When she imagined someone in the Mafia or other criminal organisations, they looked just like Jackson. An air of authority around them and expensive suits that were a world beyond Costas’ cheesy suit, hairstyle, and gold chains. Though Costas had turned their lives upside down, it felt like he was nothing compared to Jackson King. She'd screwed herself over by agreeing to this. She could feel it in her bones. Fear seeped through her whole body as she r