Stretching out my fingers, I wrap my hand in a towel with ice, then fix myself a whiskey before heading upstairs. All is quiet as I walk into the bedroom. I need to find these brothers and sort this shit out, because I need Little Red out of my house. When I am not thinking about work, I am thinking about her, and the two are starting to blur. That’s a dangerous thing for a man like me. She is a distraction, albeit a very fucking tempting one.

Once Carter searched Little Red's bank records, I learned that she has some money but not a lot. A consistent weekly pay from a local diner was her only income until recently. She has no medical history. None. No police record, not even a parking ticket. There is no car registered in her name and no known living relatives. What I do know is that her mother recently passed away, and when Carter called the trailer park that she has listed as her residential address, they only confirmed that she was living there but recently moved.

But what I am currently too aware of is how she looks like a lazy Sunday morning, all tangled in my sheets, like comfort, desire, and a pool of innocence I want to swim in.

I rub my eyes to erase the thoughts from my mind. I have no plans to keep a woman here. No plans to get involved. The destruction my lying, cheating, drug-addicted ex-wife caused has permanently damaged me too deeply.

Sipping the whiskey, I settle into the armchair, ready for a long night of watching.

“Hey, wolfman,” she breathes out sleepily. I’m startled by the sound of her voice at nearly 2am, but also by the name. Wolfman? Is she dreaming, or is she talking to me?

“Buona sera,” I say as she slowly scoots up, leaning her back against my headboard.

“Buno what?” she asks, yawning, and I don’t miss her legs as they peek out from under the blankets as she gets comfortable again. The sight has me thinking about doing things to her that I have no right to.

“Did you call me Wolfman?” I ask, not responding to her question. I’m too intrigued by why she would call me that.

She blushes a little, catching me off guard, and I decide to let it pass for now.

“Why are you awake?” I ask.

“I think I have had too much sleep these past few days. I am not that tired tonight,” she answers honestly, and my eyes stay on her as I take another sip of my whiskey.

“Why are you awake?” I don’t generally like people questioning me. I answer to Sebastian and Leo, and I will be considerate of Carter, Goldie, and Maria. That is about it, though. Everyone else I hardly even tolerate, but for some reason, speaking with her feels different.