Page 54 of Pack to the Wall

"He's going to shift back," Ewan explained to Jim, who still looked somewhat dazed. "More dignified that way."

Her dad nodded, swallowing hard. "That—what I just saw—was real, right? Not some kind of combat drug hallucination?"

"Very real, Dad," Chrissy laughed, the sound almost giddy with relief. She squeezed his arm. "Welcome to the supernatural world. Sorry you had to find out this way."

"Better than finding out at your wedding," her dad murmured, which made Chrissy's heart swell at the implicit acceptance.

Minutes later, Zev emerged from below, now human and dressed in the clothes Ewan had thoughtfully brought along—dark jeans and a black henley that strained against his muscular chest. His hair was damp, and his jaw was set in lines of authority that made Chrissy's heart race. His eyes, still glowingslightly with residual wolf energy, softened when they landed on her.

He crossed to her dad in three powerful strides, extending his hand. "Mr. Rivera. Zev Landon. I wish we could have met under better circumstances."

Her dad hesitated only a moment before clasping Zev's hand firmly. "Jim, please. Thank you for everything. And I—" His voice broke slightly. "I don't know how I can ever repay you for saving my daughter."

"Having Chrissy as my mate, and her standing by my side from now on is repayment enough," Zev replied. "Thank you for raising such a fierce, brave, and special woman."

Chrissy's eyes welled with tears. She'd spent her life being praised for her voice, her appearance, and her marketability—never her courage or spirit. The fact that those were the qualities Zev valued most made her heart feel too large for her chest.

"We should head back," Ewan announced, casting a professional glance over the now-secured perimeter. "The island security team will handle cleanup here."

Zev nodded, then turned to Chrissy, extending his hand. When she took it, he pulled her firmly against his side, his arm encircling her waist with unmistakable possession.

"Are you alright?" he murmured against her hair, his voice for her alone.

"I am now," she whispered back, melting into his strength. "You were magnificent."

His arm tightened, his lips brushing her temple. "No one threatens what's mine."

The words should have rankled her independent spirit, but instead they wrapped around her like armor. After what felt like a lifetime of being everyone else's possession, she'd finally found someone who belonged to her as completely as she belonged to him.

"Let's go home," she said, including both her dad and Zev in her gaze. "Our home."

Chrissy closed the door to her villa with a sigh of relief, the warm island air wafting through the open balcony doors. Her body still hummed with residual adrenaline, the chaos of the night's events leaving her simultaneously wired and exhausted. But having her dad here—alive, safe, and standing in her sanctuary—filled her with a happiness so overwhelming it almost hurt.

"So, this is where you've been hiding out," her dad said, his voice still rough from being gagged. He surveyed the elegant open-plan villa with its white gauzy curtains dancing in the breeze. "Definitely beats that cage of a mansion Marty had you in."

Chrissy tossed him a towel from the linen closet, trying not to wince at the bruises forming on her dad's wrists. "The bathroom's through there. Ewan said he'd drop off some clothes while you're cleaning up."

"Honey, I look like I was dragged through seven circles of hell and back. No fancy island shower is going to fix that." Her dad's attempt at a joke was undercut by the haunted look in his green eyes—the same eyes she'd inherited.

She squeezed his arm. "Go. I'll be here when you get out."

While her dad showered, Chrissy peeled off the torn red gown that had begun to feel like a second skin. The fabric slid from her curves, pooling at her feet like spilled wine. She changed into a worn band t-shirt and cut-off denim shorts, relishing the comfort of clothes that actually felt like her.

When her dad finally emerged with damp hair and dressed in the clothes Ewan had thoughtfully delivered, Chrissy felt a lump rise in her throat. He looked older somehow—the lines around his eyes deeper and the silver in his temples more prominent.

"It happened so fast," he said, lowering himself onto the couch beside her. "One minute I was making coffee, the next these guys were in my house. Marty kept saying you belonged to him—kept talking about you like you were property. God, Chrissy, I was so scared."

She couldn't stop the tears that sprang to her eyes. "Dad, I'm so sorry?—"

"Don't you dare apologize," he interrupted fiercely. "This wasn't your fault. That son of a bitch—" He broke off, shaking his head. "When he turned into a wolf, I thought I was hallucinating. Then, I thought we were both going to die, and all I could think was that I wouldn't get to tell my little girl I loved her one last time." His voice cracked.

Chrissy leaned into him, inhaling the familiar scent that had meant safety throughout her childhood. "I love you, Dad. So much."

"When that boy of yours showed up—" Her dad shook his head in wonder. "I've never been more grateful to anyone in my life."

"That boy of mine," Chrissy repeated with a watery smile. She pulled aside the collar of her t-shirt to show the mark Zev had left—teeth punctures already healing into a silvery scar at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "I'm his mate now. His Luna. It means I'm his equal—we lead the pack together."

"Luna," her dad tested the word. "Suits you. Always did have a bit of moonlight in you, even as a little girl."

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