“Next time, there won’t be a warning,” I promised. My wolf didn’t like the idea of anyone laying hands on Aspen. My human side liked it even less.
Bronc’s gaze flicked to Wrecker. “Status on the green jacket man?”
Wrecker cleared his throat. “I wanted to wait until we were all together before I brought this news.”
I leaned back in the creaky chair, the smell of burnt coffee and gun oil thick in the air, as Wrecker slapped the grainy photo of that damn symbol onto the table. My knuckles went white around the edge of the wood. “Spit it out,” I growled, though the dread pooling in my gut already knew.
“Demonic tracking sigil,” Wrecker said, voice like gravel. “Old. Nasty. Burns a trail straight to whatever poor bastard it’s latched onto.” The scar on my jaw twitched. “Maltraz had to have sent him. Why? That’s the big question.”
“That Verdant Hollow Wyrdmother must have something on him.” My teeth ground hard enough to spark. Maltraz was her dog now, sniffing out Aspen like she was some prize to drag back. That green-jacketed bastard at the bakery hadn’t just been passing through—he’d marked her. Left a breadcrumb for hell itself to follow.
Arsenal leaned back, calculating. “It was just a matter of time. We just have to step up patrols. Maltraz isn’t stupidenough to come at us himself. We’re not letting anyone who doesn’t belong get to any of our people.”
“Oscar seems to think the real enemy won’t show up until they think Aspen’s vulnerable. Right now, we’re a locked gate. They’re probing for weak links.”
Arsenal shrugged. “So we become a wall. Simple.”
“Simple until it isn’t,” I said. “There’s another variable. The grimoire.”
That got everyone’s attention. Wrecker shut the laptop and stared hard at me. “She still has it?”
“She’s never let it out of her sight. Until now. Now, it’s at my house, in a safe when she’s not trying to get it open. Then the rodent is on guard even when she sleeps. But it’s waking up. There’s a pulse to it, like a heartbeat. Some mornings, it vibrates so hard she can’t keep it on the shelf.”
Maddie spoke up for the first time, eyes shining with curiosity. “Does it talk to her? Or is it more like a magic 8-ball—shakes and gives a cryptic hint?”
“She says it feels like her mom trying to warn her, but nothing concrete. No voices, just instincts. Seems like her magic has been locked up, and there’s a chance the grimoire is the only thing standing between her and whatever’s hunting her.”
Bronc rubbed his chin. “Is there a risk it could fall into the wrong hands?”
I shook my head. “Not unless someone can break the safe, outsmart Oscar, and get past a territory full of trained killers. Then there’s still the matter of who the hell her father is.”
Gunner let out a slow, “Well, shit.”
Wrecker looked at me, calculating. “You think her old coven knows, so they want to take her out because of it?”
“I think that coven leader is pissed that she doesn’t know, but she mostly just wants to get her hands on that book. But it wouldn’t surprise me if they wanted her bloodline too. But fuckus. Since that’s a worst-case scenario situation, and we’re Iron Valor and we deal almost specifically in worst-case situations—I’d say the odds are likely that’s how the chips will fall.”
Arsenal grunted, then asked the queen mother of dumbass questions. “Have you asked her who her father is?”
I looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are youseriousright now, dude? I thought I’d explained that her mother didn’t fucking tell her! The only thing she knows is that he wasn’t a witch, and she suspects he was supernatural. He’s ‘other’ whatever thefuckthat means. But if eventhatinformation gets out, it puts a bullseye on her forehead. Is that clear enough for you?”
My patience was at an end.
Arsenal put his hands up in surrender. I love my brothers, all of them. But Arsenal was the most bullheaded and most hard assed of all of us. He sometimes acted like his shit didn’t stink, and he was always the quickest to judge and be suspicious, especially of the women that had joined our pack.
Bronc’s voice was gentle but absolute. “Well, just be ready cuz I got a nagging feeling that now that the demons might have helped locate her, they might be scared of that bitch Wyrdmother. We just need to be on guard for whatever she might send our way.”
Arsenal leaned in, voice flat and final. “So, what do we do?”
I locked eyes with Bronc, then Arsenal, then around the whole table. “We keep her safe. We watch every road, every shadow, every oddball who comes near the territory. And if anyone tries to take her—witch, demon, or otherwise—they answer to me first.”
Bronc looked at me for a long moment. His mouth twitched, just barely, into a smile. “You heard him. Aspen Waters is now Iron Valor business. Anyone comes after her, they’re coming after all of us. With the mating ceremony on the horizon, Ineed heads on swivels. This won’t be anything we can’t handle. Now, let’s get out there and take care of our business. Meeting adjourned.”
The table emptied fast, most of the men heading out to the yard to start the day’s work or to the range behind the barn. Bronc motioned me aside before I could leave. “You alright, Papa? You’ve got a look about you.”
I considered lying, then shrugged. “I’m fine. Just don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“It’s your mate bond I’d guess.”
