Not barking.
Just appearing.
Low growl rolling out of his chest as he circled, teeth flashing inches from the man’s face. Controlled. Waiting.
The guy froze.
“Easy,” Ranger murmured to Smoke, not pulling him back. Just letting the man hear how close that line was.
I reached into his pockets and grabbed his phone.
The screen lit up. I quickly held it in front of the lookouts face and smiled when the password unlocked.
“That’s why you don’t use your Face ID fucker,” Ghost said lowly.
I quickly scanned through the phone’s recent text messages. The latest one had an image sent that made my blood run cold.
It was our clubhouse gate. Taken from the woods. I looked at the date that the image was taken and tightened my jaw when I realized it was earlier this evening.
Ghost leaned in. “Zoom.”
I did.
There, blurred through the upstairs window, was a smear of red.
Amanda.
This wasn’t just surveillance. This was a threat.
The man felt the shift before we said a word.
Brutus crouched beside him and drove a fist into his gut that was hard and precise. Not rage. Brutus hadn’t gotten to that point yet and this fucker probably wouldn’t survive if he did.
The guy gagged, body curling.
“Who’s your handler?” Ranger asked calmly.
Silence.
Smoke let out a bark next to Ranger. “Hold,” Ranger said deeply without taking his eyes off the lookout. Smoke let out a low growl and sat next to Ranger’s legs.
Brutus grabbed the man by the collar and hauled him halfway upright, then slammed him back down.
“You don’t get to decide when this gets worse,” Brutus said. “We do.”
The man sucked in a broken breath. “I—I don’t know names.”
Ghost grabbed the phone from my hand. “Text went out five minutes ago.”
“To who?” I asked.
The guy shook his head frantically. “The phone is a burner. I just send.”
Brutus reached his arm up and punched the guy in the face. I heard the telltale sign of his nose breaking as blood started to rush down his face.
“Pressure,” Ranger said and Smoke stood up and stepped closer letting out another low growl.
The man swallowed, eyes flicking to Smoke like he was measuring his odds. “He wanted confirmation,” he said. “He doesn’t like loose ends.”
