Page 67 of Moonlight & Mayhem

She looked down, and the final words made her blood run cold. “Fear the one who wears silver.”

Chris frowned. “What the hell does that mean?” Moon stared at the page. She had no idea, but her wolf did. It began to growl—not at Mayhem or anyone else in the clubhouse, but at something Moon couldn't see yet.

She closed the journal. “We need to move our plans up. We leave in an hour.”

Tempest nodded, and Christmas smiled as Moon looked one last time at the warning her mother had left behind. Trust the black wolf. Fear the one who wears silver. For the first time since this nightmare began, Moon knew exactly where she needed to go—home. Not because Morrigan had called her there, but because Moon intended to find out why her mother had spent her entire life making sure she never returned.

Mayhem

Mayhem had ridden into gunfights with less preparation than Dark Chaos put into leaving Baltimore. Within twenty minutes, the clubhouse had gone from lockdown to controlled chaos. Weapons were checked, bikes were fueled, routes were mapped, and Tempest assigned women to stay behind and guard the clubhouse while Chris organized the riders going with them. Nobody questioned either woman, and Mayhem respected the hell out of that.

Silverfang worked much the same way. Howler gave the order, Mayhem made sure it happened, and Chrome usually figured out who needed to be threatened along the way. Dark Chaos had Tempest and Christmas, but was basically the same structure, with a different kind of insanity.

Mayhem sat at the bar while Moon stood between his knees, wrapping another bandage around his side. “You're enjoying this,” she grumbled.

He looked down at her. “Having you between my legs?” he whispered in her ear. Because he was enjoying it way too much. His cock was pushing against the zipper of his jeans, and all he could think about was getting them both naked and finally sealing their bond.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she whispered. “You’re being difficult.”

He shrugged. “If you want to call it that, then sure, I’m being difficult. Moon pulled the bandage tighter, and Mayhem grunted. “Vindictive little thing.”

“You've torn these stitches three times,” she reminded.

“Technically, one of those times wasn’t my fault,” he insisted.

“You shifted into a wolf,” she said.

“To save you,” he countered.

“It’s still your fault,” she said. Mayhem smiled, but Moon didn't, and that worried him. She'd been quiet since finding her mother's message. Trust the black wolf. Fear the one who wears silver. He liked the first part, but the second part could go fuck itself, because there were too many ways to interpret it. Silver could mean a wolf’s hair, jewelry, a patch, a weapon, or Moon herself, because she was a silver wolf. Mayhem refused to consider that possibility.

Moon secured the bandage. “Done.”

“Can I put my shirt on now?” he asked.

“No,” she breathed.

His eyebrows lifted. “Whatever you say, Doc,” he said, pulling her against his body.

She slapped at his chest. “I need to check your veins again.”

“Sure you do,” he teased. Her eyes narrowed, and Mayhem smiled. Moon lifted his arm and saw that the black lines had retreated below his elbow while she'd been touching him.

“Better,” she said.

“Good,” he breathed.

“Don't sound so happy,” she said. “We can celebrate when they're gone.” Her fingers moved over his forearm, and Mayhem's wolf practically rolled onto its back—pathetic bastard. He understood, though, because Moon's touch did something to both of them. It wasn’t just because of the night root. It felt right, but that was the part Mayhem wasn't ready to admit out loud.

He'd spent years watching brothers lose their damn minds when they found their mates. He'd laughed at Howler when the Silverfang Prez suddenly started rearranging his entire life around Tempest. Now Mayhem understood, and one woman was all it took to change his mind. One woman walked into his life, and every priority shifted.

Moon released him to reach for her medical bag, and the black veins immediately darkened. “Damn it.” Mayhem grabbed her hand, and she looked down. “So much for better.”

“I’m not sure what to do about this,” she admitted.

“Maybe I'm just needy,” he teased.

“This isn't funny,” she insisted.