Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of proof?” she asked.
“That your mayor isn’t just a concerned citizen,” Wraith said. “She’s meeting with the D.C. club.” Tempest finally took the paper. It was a printout—grainy photos from a security camera.The date stamp was two nights old. It was a side entrance to a building that Tempest recognized, at a private club near the waterfront where politicians went to pretend they didn’t drink too much.
In the photo, a woman in a coat stood near a black SUV. Even in the blur, Tempest recognized her posture. It was Mayor Lila Grant. Beside her was a man with his back to the camera, tall and built like a fighter. The patch on his vest was just clear enough to read. CAPITOL WOLVES MC. Tempest’s grip tightened until the paper crinkled. Her wolf snarled so hard she tasted it—metallic and hot.
“How did you get this?” Tempest asked.
Howler’s voice lowered. “I have people in high places. Same as you.”
Tempest stared at the photo, then slowly looked up. “So they’re not just working the streets. They’re working the whole damn city.”
Howler nodded. “And they’re not going to stop.”
Tempest’s mind felt like it was stuck in a tornado. She’d heard of the Capital Wolves. They were the largest MC in D.C. They had power, old money, and connections. Rumors that their pack ran deeper than their club, that they had wolves in suits and badges, wolves who didn’t ride but still belonged. Tempest had dismissed it as a myth. The kind of story bikers told to make themselves feel bigger. But this was real, and Howler had just handed her the proof. She folded the paper and slid it into her inside pocket.
“All right,” she said, voice calm even though she felt about ready to tear something or someone apart. “Say I help you. What does that look like?”
Howler’s gaze sharpened with something like relief, but he tried to hide it. “It looks like you and I meet again, this time, withour officers. We trade intel, set boundaries, and decide how far we’re willing to go.”
“And if I decide I’m not willing?” Tempest asked.
Wraith’s eyes flashed with panic. “Then you’re already dead. You just don’t know it yet.” Tempest stepped forward so fast the lantern light flickered. In the blink of an eye, she was in Wraith’s space, her hand wrapped around the front of his vest, yanking him down just enough that he had to meet her eyes.
“Listen to me,” she said softly, the words edged in steel. “I’m not one of Howler’s brothers. You don’t get to speak to me like that.” Wraith’s throat bobbed. His wolf pushed back against her. It was his male dominance testing her wolf until Tempest let her own wolf rise, just a fraction to tower over his. The air changed. The air felt heavy around them. Wraith’s pupils widened for an instant, but she noticed. His breathing hitched, and Tempest knew that she had hit a nerve. Wraith didn’t seem like the type of guy who liked being challenged.
“Wraith,” Howler growled in warning.
Tempest didn’t look away from Wraith. “Do it again,” she murmured, “and I’ll show you exactly how dead I can make you.”
Wraith held still for a beat too long, then finally exhaled and nodded once. “Understood.”
Tempest let go of him, giving his vest a final shove like punctuation on the end of a sentence, then stepped back as if nothing had happened.
Howler watched her with a new kind of attention, seeming almost wary of her. “You’re different than the men in this game,” he said.
Tempest’s laugh was short. “I’m not sure if you just called me a woman like it’s a bad thing or a good thing. No, I’m not like the men in this game. I’m better than them, and I’m willing to fight to protect the women in my pack.”
From somewhere deeper in the warehouse, a faint sound echoed. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Tempest’s head snapped toward the sound. Howler’s gaze did too. Wraith’s hand drifted toward the weapon at his hip.
Tempest’s wolf surged, fury blazing through her veins. “You said this meeting was just you, me, and your enforcer,” Tempest said quietly, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the lanterns.
Howler’s jaw tightened. “It was.” Another sound echoed off the walls, closer this time. It sounded like a soft clink, like a chain shifting. Tempest didn’t move. She didn’t give whatever was out there the satisfaction of seeing fear.
Her voice went cold. “Someone’s in here with us.”
Wraith’s nostrils flared. “I don’t smell anyone.” Tempest did, but whoever it was wasn’t a wolf. It was something else—someone human. Someone who had been scared long enough that it had started to rot from the inside.
She took one slow step back, putting herself in a position where she could see both Howler and the shadows beyond him.
“Howler,” she breathed, “if this is a setup?—”
“It’s not,” he cut in. A shape stumbled into the lantern light. Not a woman, but a girl. She looked to be about eighteen but was possibly younger. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face was bruised, and her wrists were red and raw like she’d been bound by rope, or even metal. She wore a cut that hung off one shoulder and was smeared with grime and something dark that Tempest didn’t want to identify at first glance.
The patch on the vest was new. Dark Chaos MC. Tempest’s heart stopped for one savage beat. “That’s impossible,” she whispered. She recognized her. Tempest recognized the wide, terrified eyes and the dimple in her left cheek, even through the swelling in her face.
“Blue,” Tempest’s voice cracked when she said the girl’s name. The girl swayed, lips parting like she was trying tospeak but couldn’t find the strength to get the words out. Then she lifted her shaking hand and pointed behind her into the darkness. And the last words she forced out were barely more than breath.
“They’re coming.”
