We drifted off together, locked tight, the world outside already plotting how to tear us apart. But for now, for this one night, we were whole.
The new war room looked like what I imagined you’d see at the Pentagon. There were large LCD screens on the walls, and everyone’s laptops glowed with blue light. Wrecker had all the latest tech networked to where nobody would be able to get past us again. The effect was surgical: you could see every cut, every bruise, every patch of skin gone sickly yellow from the aftermath of demon toxin.
Bronc sat at the head of the table, beard trimmed down to a fresh start, eyes weary, a signal that meant he hadn’t slept, not really, since I’d put a bullet in Silas’s skull. Juliet was at his right hand, a notepad in front of her and a fist knuckled tight against her mouth. Arsenal and Doc flanked the far side, both looking a little less worse for wear but pale nonetheless but upright. Gunnerhunched at the end, hat low over his eyes, a thermos of something steaming cradled in both hands. Papa’s chair was pushed back from the table; he watched the room, not the screen, his hands folded in his lap and his expression the definition of “grave.”
Wrecker stood behind me. His hand was on my shoulder, thumb stroking the line of my collarbone, and I wanted to lean back and just stay there, let the world dissolve in the haze of his skin against mine. But the energy in the room was a live current, and it kept me upright, alert, wired in.
Menace and his team were still here. He would not leave until the Greenbriar matter was settled. This entire battle started with his sister Emma almost four years ago. It would end with his being part of its conclusion.
On the screen, two side-by-side windows: one map of the region with every town, strip club, and back road flagged in color, the other a spreadsheet I’d built, columns and rows for every known Greenbriar member, their family, every property and phone number ever connected to Silas. The map pulsed with red where the last three Greenbriar packs had been pinged—Clovis, Tulia outskirts, and a nowhere ranch just this side of the New Mexico border.
No one spoke for a long minute. The only sounds were the soft grind of Gunner’s teeth and the low hum of the HV/AC system kicking on.
Bronc finally broke the silence, his voice a sandpaper rasp. “We know Silas is down. But we don’t know who’s in charge, or exactly how many of them are left. Wrecker, Parker—what’s your take?”
I swallowed, feeling the weight of every eye in the room, then flicked my finger over the touchpad. “After Silas, their power structure is a hydra. No single heir. Dagger was always the brute, but I’d bet Vex is running logistics now. She’s smarter, but she doesn’t care about rules. Their communications went dark, then ramped up with dummy traffic to throw us off. If I’m right, they’llwant to make a play fast before the Council steps in. Rook is their muscle, but he never had much to say. My money is on Dagger. He’s an arrogant prick who is always looking for blood. My guess is they’d want to hit us while they think we’re still down- two days, three days tops. They’ll definitely be coming out of the Clovis compound. It seemed big, but I ran so fast I didn’t really get a look around.”
Wrecker squeezed my shoulder, the approval hot as whiskey. “I agree,” he said. “They’re likely thinking we took heavy losses from the toxin. Even if they know Parker got out with the antidote, which I don’t know if they realized that. They probably have no idea how fast it would actually work.”
Juliet nodded. “So we let them think we’re half-dead. Spread some rumors, keep pack members indoors, make a show of quarantine. Although I am a little worried because we are in a weakened state.”
Menace spoke up then. “My healer and her team lands here in 20 minutes as we discussed earlier. Their healing gifts go beyond the traditional. They can definitely help here.”
Doc piped in, his voice more like the Doc I remembered: crisp, clinical, but edged with a new kind of determination. “I can vouch for her ability. I saw her work after Meance’s unfortunate brush with the Grim Reaper. Of course, he had a little angel help too.” Menace glanced at me at the mention of the angel. Doc continued, “We’ll issue a public notice that the death toll is higher, and that the Alpha is in critical. Anyone with a mole in our system will buy it.”
I gave a small half-wave. “I might be able to get a message to the inside. As much as I hate it, my asshole brother may still be there. I could give him a bullshit call. Tell him I’m scared because I was too late with the antidote. That people were still dying. That it looks like Bronc isn’t going to make it, and the entire pack is unraveling. If he’s still on their side, which I sadly think he is, he’ll have them at our doorstep within hours. We can wipe them allout then. Including Axel.” I added in a quiet voice. I felt Wrecker’s fingers lightly rubbing my neck and mate mark, trying to send me all the love he could.
Bronc looked to Arsenal, whose only response was a flat stare and a single nod. “They’re big enough cowards to try to finish what the toxin started.”
“We could stage it,” Arsenal said. “Leave the gates with a simple chain and lock. Make it look abandoned, but keep our shooters on standby. The minute they show, we cut them down.”
“That’s assuming they hit the compound,” Gunner drawled, voice gone rougher than sand. “I’d take the kids instead. Pick off the weak and sick, then use them for leverage.”
Juliet tensed, but Bronc just set his jaw. “Which means we need two layers. Parker, can you rig the cams to loop? Make them think we’re here, even when we’re not?”
I nodded. “Already done. The security feed is patched through a relay. We can make it look like there’s a full house. But the network is porous. If they send someone physical, they’ll figure it out.”
Bronc nodded. “First thing is to secure civilians in the bunkers. We’ve got way more fighters than Greenbriar, always have. And since we have reinforcements from Rafe on standby, we've got more than enough men to handle the number they'll send. The four bunkers are plenty big for those who aren’t warriors. We’ll work on the quadrants we’ve always had in wartime. Papa, call quad leaders and have them start the evac. Bunkers should be ready to receive people. After the bombing, I had quad leaders inventory in case we had another emergency.”
Wrecker grinned, teeth white in the flickering light. “Then we let them in. Get them in the kill box, then close the door.”
Papa finally spoke, his voice low and calm. “This is all assuming Maltraz isn’t playing his own game. If the demon wants to make a point, he’ll show. He’ll want an audience.”
Arsenal took a gulp of coffee. “Let him come. I’ll put one in his head, just like Parker did Silas.”
Everyone else at the table grunted or muttered agreement.
Bronc stood. Even battered, he could fill a room with threat. “Good. We get one shot at this. Tomorrow morning, we go dark. No outgoing comms, no social. Only Parker and Doc are allowed through the firewall. When Menace’s healers get here, we’ll all get a little touch of magic to juice us up. Then we’re underground until further notice.”
He swept the room with his eyes. “We were on the brink of losing everything. We still lost more than was acceptable. I won’t lose more. I want every able body armed and on the line. If Greenbriar comes, we finish it this time. No more mercy.”
Gunner finally lifted his head, eyes shot with red but burning. “They’ll come. And we’ll meet ‘em when they do.”
“Fuckin’ damn straight we will,” Bronc said. He adjourned with a single finger point.
People filed out, most in silence. Only Doc lingered, packing up the medical reports, muttering about “sample runs” and “field tests.” Arsenal waited at the door, gun already in hand, scanning the hallway like a soldier in a haunted house.
Wrecker stayed behind with me, his hand still on my shoulder.
