"Shit." Bear's hand tightened on my shoulder. "Butch needs to hear about this. Last thing we need is a drug war on top of everything else."
I nodded, then glanced down at Bug. "How did you know to follow me? About Liam, I mean?"
Bug touched his stomach, a gesture I'd come to recognize as his reference to his uncanny intuition. "Mr. Rooster sad. Kitten scared. Both need help."
Despite everything, I felt a small smile tug at my lips. Bug's simple wisdom often cut straight to the heart of things. "Thanks for trying to help, Bug. But Bear's right—it was dangerous."
Bug nodded solemnly. "Know danger. Choose anyway."
The simple declaration hit me hard. Bug understood the risks, but had followed me anyway, driven by loyalty and concern. The realization made me feel even worse about inadvertently putting him in danger.
Bear seemed about to say something else when the sound of tires on gravel drew our attention to the main gate. A sleek black sedan with tinted windows rolled into the compound, moving with deliberate slowness, like a shark circling potential prey.
The three of us tensed, instinctively moving closer together. Bear pushed Bug slightly behind him, a protective gesture that was second nature to him now. From the corner of my eye, I saw Butch straighten on the porch, his hand moving subtly toward the small of his back where I knew he kept a pistol.
The sedan stopped in the center of the yard. For a moment, nothing happened—just the soft ticking of the cooling engine breaking the morning silence. Then the driver's door opened, and a man stepped out with casual confidence.
He was tall and lean, dressed in an expensive tailored suit that looked wildly out of place in our dusty compound. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his clean-shaven face handsome in a cold, calculated way. As he turned to survey the compound, sunglasses hiding his eyes, recognition slammed into me like a physical blow.
Victor Kaine.
The same man I'd watched torture Tommy in that alley just hours ago. The same man who suspected our club of stealing his drugs. Here, at our compound, striding toward our clubhouse like he owned the place.
My fists clenched at my sides as my bear roared within me, clawing at my insides with rage. Every instinct screamed to attack, to eliminate the threat before it could harm my family. Only Bear's steadying presence beside me kept me in check.
"I'm here to speak with Butch Cassidy," the man called out, his voice pleasant and professional, as if he were arriving for a business meeting rather than walking into the heart of rival territory. "About some mutual interests."
My throat tightened as I watched him approach Butch and got a closer look at the man. This wasn't Victor Kaine. The features were similar, but this man was younger, with subtle differences in his bone structure and bearing.
"Victor Markus," Bear whispered beside me. "Preston Markus's nephew."
The revelation sent a chill down my spine. Preston Markus—the man who had experimented on Treat, who had hunted omega shifters, who had nearly destroyed our club. And now his nephew was standing in our compound, smiling that same cold smile I'd seen in the alley.
Something told me the timing wasn't coincidental. Victor Kaine in the Dough Boys territory at dawn, and now Victor Markus cousin at our doorstep hours later?
My bear growled a warning, sensing danger coiling around us like an invisible snake. Whatever was happening, I had a sickening feeling that Liam had run from one threat straight into something far worse.
I couldn't sit still while Victor Markus smooth-talked his way through a meeting with our leadership. Every cell in my body screamed for action—to keep searching for Liam, to confront the Markus kid about his connection to the attack on our compound, to do something besides wait helplessly while threats circled us like vultures.
So I paced. Back and forth along the perimeter fence, my boots kicking up little clouds of dust with each turn, my eyes constantly scanning the tree line as if Liam might materialize if I just looked hard enough.
Bear had ordered me to get some rest, but sleep felt impossible with my mate missing and a Markus in our clubhouse. The concussion still throbbed behind my eyes, vision blurring occasionally when I turned too quickly, but the pain was almost welcome—a distraction from the hollow ache in my chest.
Where was Liam right now? Huddled in some makeshift shelter? Hungry? Hurt? The questions tortured me with each step. I'd seen how he lived—scavenging, hiding, always on alert. But something about knowing he was my mate made it unbearable to think of him out there alone now, especially after I'd been the one to frighten him away.
"I should have been more careful," I muttered to myself, scrubbing a hand over my beard. "Should have explained better."
My fifteenth circuit of the perimeter brought me to the northeastern corner of our property, where the fence line met the beginning of the dense forest. I paused, leaning against a fence post to catch my breath.
The woods beyond our compound had always seemed almost sentient to me—watching, waiting, harboring secrets in its shadows. Liam had disappeared into those trees last night, vanishing like a ghost.
Something moved.
I froze, every sense suddenly alert. There—a subtle shifting among the lower branches of a pine near the fence line. Not the natural sway of wind through needles, but a deliberate movement. A flash of fabric—faded blue—there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I'd spent enough time observing Liam from a distance to recognize his patterns. He'd always been cautious, watching us from hiding spots just like this one, waiting and assessing before approaching the food I left.
I wanted to rush forward, to call his name, but instinct told me that would send him running again. Instead, I backed away slowly, moving at an angle that would take me around in a wide circle. If it was Liam, I needed to approach from a direction he wasn't watching, get close enough to speak without giving him time to flee.
