Wolf’s gaze drifted toward the street beyond the lot, already calculating distance, timing, where Callahan might run next.
“We don’t tolerate thieves,” King finally said, his voice going flat in that way that meant the decision had already been made.
Wolf flicked his gaze toward the exit again, the path already clear in his head.
“No,” he agreed.“We don’t.”
“Find him,” King said.“I don’t care where he thinks he’s hiding.He took from the club, he answers to the club.”
There was no need to spell out what that meant.Wolf had been doing this long enough to understand exactly how that conversation would end.
“Make it clear,” King added, quieter now but sharper for it.“Nobody skims from Devil’s Crown and walks away breathing easy.”
Wolf’s grip tightened slightly against the bike seat before he let it go.
“I’ll handle it,” he said.
A beat passed.Wolf could hear it in the silence, in the controlled edge under King’s breathing.King was mad, and when he got pissed, he wasn’t the loud or explosive sort.King’s anger burned cold, not hot.It lingered until the problem was erased.Never a good sign.
“I know you will,” King said.
Then the line went dead.Wolf lowered the phone slowly, slipping it back into his pocket as his gaze lifted toward the darkening street.Ten thousand, truly a foolish move.Maybe Callahan had run out of options, or he had balls enough to think he could get away with this.Either way, Wolf had a feeling Callahan would make a mistake and surface soon, and Wolf would find him.
Wolf walked unhurriedly to his Harley.A decade.Ten years of cleaning out traitors, cutting rot from the bone, taking chaos and forcing it into something that made sense.Order wasn’t natural, it had to be imposed.That was where he came in.
Truthfully, Wolf didn’t mind it.Hell, he was good at it.Better than anyone else in Devil’s Crown.King trusted him with the things that couldn’t afford mistakes, the problems that needed to disappear cleanly, efficiently, without noise.That was why it always came back to him.
Wolf always finished what he started—he didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t let anything become personal.Lately, though, there’d been a shift in the club.
More of his brothers were pairing off, finding their women, and settling down in their own way.The clubhouse had changed because of it.It was the subtle things, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.
Laughter lingered longer in the clubhouse, and fights cooled faster.Wolf noticed, because he noticed everything.
A part of him, perhaps buried deep enough that it rarely made itself known, wondered what that would feel like.Having someone who wasn’t a variable to manage or a risk to mitigate.Someone who stayed.
The thought didn’t sit comfortably.He dismissed it as quickly as it surfaced.That wasn’t him.
Wolf understood systems, control, and outcomes.People, in that context, were liabilities more often than they were worth.Attachments complicated things.They slowed you down and made you hesitate when hesitation got you killed.
No, he was fine exactly where he was.More than fine.He had his place in Devil’s Crown.Wolf had purpose.Work that needed doing, and the skill to do it better than anyone else.Nothing had to change and nothing would.
