They all started howling, like a bunch of teenagers. I flipped them off and took a bite of biscuit.
Arsenal, who was the only one with any class, said, “Brie’s fine. She’s more wolf than most wolves I know. She’ll bounce back.”
Bronc, who’d been silent, finally looked up. “You sure she’s ready for what comes next?” His eyes were blue and sharp as fresh-cut ice.
I knew what he meant. I nodded. “She’s ready. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Papa grinned, teeth flashing. “So when’s the big moment? You gonna claim her tonight or drag it out for another week?”
Wrecker raised his mug. “Twenty says he does it before midnight.”
“I’m not betting against the man,” said Arsenal. “I’ve seen that look on his face. He’s already halfway gone.”
Doc threw in another two cents’ worth. “You know she’s gonna talk circles around him, right? That girl’s brain is like a steel trap lined with glitter and venom.”
I shrugged. “She can try. But I’m not so easy to break.”
Papa wiped his hands on a napkin. “Heard her say yesterday you were the best thing that’s happened to her.”
That quieted the table. Even Bronc looked impressed.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just shoveled more food into my mouth. After a while, the subject changed to pack business, the latest from the territory, who’d moved in or out, how the drought could eventually affect beef sales. But the whole time, Wrecker kept side-eyeing me like he was just waiting for the right moment to bring it back to Brie.
When the food was gone, and the plates cleared, Pearl came by to collect the dishes. “Finn,” she said, “You do things on your own time. Don’t let these bullies bother you.”
“I know, ma’am,” I said.
She nodded, satisfied, then turned to Bronc. “You boys handle your business. I’ll bring out pie in an hour.”
As soon as she left, Bronc straightened his back, and the entire table went quiet. “Here’s what we know,” he said. “Maltraz has been silent, but there’s movement off the coast. Wrecker?”
Wrecker sat up, his bullshit persona replaced by the soldier. “We’re seeing the old demon’s signature on some of the West Coast traffic. Small packs, usually female wolves, but a couple of witches, too. Someone’s buying them up and moving them through the port.”
“Who’s buying?” Arsenal asked.
“That’s the thing,” said Wrecker. “Most of the transactions are through shell companies or dead drops. But the last two were bought by a known affiliate of that damn Varic Otero.”
Arsenal whistled. “The fuck do vamps need with wolves?”
“Same reason they need anything,” said Bronc. “Power. Leverage.”
Big Papa nodded. “Or maybe they’re just bored.”
Doc put down his phone. “I’m guessing if Maltraz is moving women, it’s not for the joy of it. There’s a bigger play.”
Bronc leaned in. “Menace reports that Maltraz is above reproach. He’s on his best behavior at Council, looks clean. But off-book, we can’t prove shit. Every time we get close, the trail goes cold.”
Wrecker said, “There’s chatter that he’s building a new house in Tijuana. If we can get a man inside—”
Bronc raised a hand. “We don’t send anyone in until we’re sure. Maltraz basically killed Papa last time. We don’t take that risk unless there’s payoff.”
Papa rumbled, “I’ll go. Man needs to learn I don’t die easy.”
Bronc smiled, just a little. “You’ll get your shot.”
Arsenal, who’d been thinking, said, “If Maltraz is trafficking girls, he’s not doing it alone. He’s never been a people person. Who’s he partnered with?”
Wrecker shrugged. “No one worth mentioning yet. But I’ll keep digging.”
