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.”
HOWLER
Howler knew that waiting for the sexy little wolf wasn’t his finest idea, but he really had no choice. His club needed help, and if the DCMC was willing to take him up on his offer, that would change the odds of him winning the very dangerous game that he had been playing. But he wasn’t a fool, and taking his Enforcer, Wraith, along with him was the first smart thing he had done that day.
Howler had learned a long time ago that patience was a weapon that not too many people possessed. But it was one he didn’t enjoy using. Waiting for anything or anyone wasn’t easy for him, but this meeting was too important not to wait her out.
He leaned against the cold brick wall of the abandoned sugar warehouse, his arms crossed over his chest, and let his wolf pace beneath his skin. His wolf didn’t like waiting any more than he did. It prowled, restless and sharp-toothed, reacting to every distant sound, every shift of air that rolled in off the harbor.
She’ll come, his wolf insisted. Howler believed him, too, because he needed it to be true. Tempest wasn’t the kind of woman who ignored a summons, especially not one layered with secrecy and risk. Wolves like her didn’t shy away from storms—they walked straight into them and dared the thunder to strike first. Still, that didn’t mean he liked the position he was in.
“Relax,” Wraith muttered from his spot near the lanterns. “You’re grinding your teeth.”
Howler shot his Enforcer a look. “You ever tell me to relax again, and I’ll demote you to sweeping floors.”
Wraith huffed out a quiet laugh but sobered quickly, his gaze flicking toward the open warehouse doors. “She’s late.”
“She’s just being cautious,” Howler corrected. “As she should be.”
The truth was, Howler admired that about Tempest. From what he’d gathered through whispered conversations and half-buried rumors, Dark Chaos MC hadn’t clawed its way into Baltimore by being reckless. A women’s MC—a wolf shifter women’s MC—setting up shop in contested territory had been enough to make half the East Coast take note. The other area MCs said that they wouldn’t last in Baltimore, yet here they were. Still standing, still breathing, and still pissing off the wrong people.
Howler shifted his weight, the concrete biting cold even through his boots. His thoughts drifted back to the mess that had forced his hand. The Capitol Wolves were looking to take over his club’s territory, and they had the numbers to do it. Plus, they had the mayor in their pocket, something he hoped would convince Tempest to join his cause. The Capitol Wolves were D.C. power players wearing biker cuts like crowns, blending pack politics with club muscle in a way that made his skin crawl. They didn’t just want territory—they wanted obedience. And the Silverfang Brotherhood didn’t bend the knee to any other MC. That was exactly why they were being squeezed.
The sound of a motorcycle cut through the quiet like a blade. Howler turned instantly, his wolf snapping to attention. Hecould smell her before she even entered the warehouse—female, alpha, Tempest.
“She’s here,” Wraith said unnecessarily.
Howler pushed off the wall as the bike rolled to a stop outside. He forced himself to breathe evenly and to keep his posture loose. He wasn’t here to posture or bully. He was here to negotiate—and possibly to beg, if necessary, though he’d rather die than admit it out loud.
