Oscar appeared at the foot of my bed. “Are we moving?”
I about jumped out of my skin at his sudden appearance. “So, you’re just gonna pop in and speak aloud from now on?”
“It’s rude to carry on private conversations in front of other people. Your mate would likely be offended, and I don’t want to anger the giant wolf.”
I laughed, in spite of myself. “You’re right. I need to tie a bell around your neck so I’d have some warning.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I have my pride you know.” He was so offended.
I went to my secret place behind the loosened wall slat and pulled out my mother’s grimoire. It vibrated slightly in my hand when I removed it from the wall. I almost dropped it. I made a surprised sound.
Papa came into the room. “Everything okay in here? Oh, hello, Oscar.”
Oscar nodded toward him. “Sir. And yes, I’ve decided to just speak out loud from now on. It’s rude to have quiet conversations when others are around.”
Papa’s face was priceless. “I think that’s a nice thing, Oscar. Thank you. Now,you.” He looked down at me on the floor. “You okay?”
I was sitting on the floor with the book on my lap.
“I’m good. The book just has a life of its own sometimes. It’s trying to tell me something but still refuses to let me open it to make it easier.”
Chapter 12
Big Papa
Most mornings, Iron Valor’s clubhouse was a shrine to hangovers and burnt coffee, but on Mondays, it woke up mean and sharp for the mandatory all-officer meet. I rolled up just after dawn, engine ticking in the cold and sunrise fighting through a haze of wood smoke and diesel exhaust. I left Aspen at the bakery when it opened and headed back to the compound. I walked up the steps, hands jammed in the pockets of my hoodie, because the wind out on the prairie didn’t give a shit about your pedigree.
Inside, the long main room was already alive with wolf scent and the clatter of boots on concrete. Bronc presided from hisusual spot at the head of the battered oak table. He wore jeans, a black t-shirt that said, “MAKE IT HURT,” and his leather vest with the Iron Valor patch stitched proud across the back. He looked every inch the Alpha: hair peppered with more silver than last year, blue eyes that could freeze a bar fight mid-swing, and a mug of black coffee that steamed like a hot spring. Wrecker and Arsenal flanked him, both with their own mugs, both eyeing the rest of us as we filed in. Gunner had the kitchen detail, but he’d already laid out a pile of breakfast tacos and a tray of coffee mugs.
I nodded to Bronc, squeezed in next to Wrecker, and grabbed the nearest taco. The tortillas were buttery and grilled to perfection. The eggs, sausage and cheese inside tasted just right swimming in salsa, and my wolf was already awake and wanting fuel. Maddie, the only civilian at the table, hovered at the far end with her own thermos and a notebook, ready to record every word.
Bronc smacked the table to start. “Settle in. We got a week to the mating ceremony, and a list of shit to cover before then. First up, Arsenal. Security check.”
Arsenal leaned back, eyes scanning the room like he was counting possible exits. “Ceremony will be in the clearing. The perimeter will be cleared by 3:00. But we’ll have Wrecker’s new motion sensors on every trailhead, plus two volunteers in the woods with night scopes. If your people are on the list, their names better match their faces, or you’re not coming in.”
Bronc gave him a slow nod. “Good. Can’t have ghosts gettin’ in. Wrecker?”
Wrecker looked up, steel-gray eyes bright under the dim bulbs. “I’ve run every background check twice. Anyone who even smells like a threat is already flagged in my system. I’ll sweep comms morning of, so no one’s leaking the time or place. Security feed is clean, no signs of pack warfare coming ourway, only outsiders on the invite list are the Kozlovs, Rafe, and Archon, but I’ll keep an eye on chatter.”
I sipped my coffee, feeling the last scraps of fatigue burn off. Arsenal never missed a trick, and Wrecker could out-think a NASA mission control team, but something in Bronc’s posture said the real agenda was still circling the room, teeth bared.
“Gunner,” Bronc called. “What’s the plan for food and drink?”
Gunner grinned from his perch by the window. “Full open bar, kegs on ice. Maddie and Pearl are running the kitchen, menu’s already set. Brisket, sausage, and more sides than you can count. Veggies for the weirdos. There’ll be food for three days, so nobody goes home sober if they don’t want to.”
Bronc made a small smile and turned his gaze on me. “Big Papa. Update on your end?”
I cleared my throat, all eyes shifting my way. “Aspen’s got the cake on lockdown. It’ll be good to go morning of. We’ll deliver 3:00 for assembly on site. I moved her into my place. We’re running an escort whenever she has to be in town alone, but mostly she’s locked down tight in the house. Her familiar appeared several days ago. A prairie dog with a British accent named Oscar. He is with her at all times—hell, the guy’s probably got more vigilance than half this room. I trust him to sound the alarm if anything weird happens.”
A small ripple of surprise moved through the table. Wrecker arched one eyebrow. “Moved in? That official, or just a security thing?”
“Both,” I said. “Given what went down at County Line, I’m not taking any chances. She’s a target.”
Gunner whistled low. “Yeah, about that—Arsenal, why the hell would Morgantown send muscle up here when they got their own bars and women closer to home? We got no beef with them.”
Arsenal leaned forward, voice dropping to a dangerous hush. “That’s what I’m trying to figure. Morgantown’s Alpha is a greedy bastard, but he’s not dumb. He doesn’t let his dogs off the chain without reason. I ran the plates of the guy who grabbed Aspen at the bar—nothing in the system, but I bet my left nut he’s a paid runner. They wanted to see what would happen if they pushed our buttons.”
“Testing boundaries,” Bronc growled, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Next time, we break a few.”
