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My hellhound leans into it, and every hair on my arms lifts.

What the fuck?

She hasn’t opened her mouth. I’m too far away to hear her breathing, let alone anything else, but something about her is reaching across the yard anyway. A frequency I shouldn’t be able to hear and sure as fuck shouldn’t be able to feel.

Except I do.

It curls through the empty place where my roar used to live, and for the first time since Malgrave tore the sound out of us, my hellhound stops fighting the silence.

He listens.

To her.

Scar pushes off the porch rail and folds his arms across his chest, all the lazy shit from a second ago disappearing as his attention locks onto the woman Coil’s dragging into our yard. Raze comes through the clubhouse door behind him, and conversations start dying around us as the brothers turn his way.

Raze doesn’t say anything at first. His eyes move from Coil’s grip on her arm to the knife strapped to her boot before finally settling on her face, and his expression hardens.

I know that look.

Someone better start fucking explaining.

I stay where I am, propped against my bike, arms folded, doing my level best to look like I couldn’t care less.

I care plenty.

Coil hauls her to a stop in the middle of the yard, a leather jacket two sizes too practical for anything but survival.

And eyes the color of sea glass, pale green and brilliant, locked dead ahead on Raze like she’s already calculating three different ways out of this yard.

She holds her ground. Chin up, shoulders squared, eyes moving across the yard as she takes in every brother and prospect watching her. Most people we drag through these gates have the good sense to look fucking terrified by now.

Not her.

Her gaze moves over Scar, pauses on Raze, catches Sentinel’s wings before finally landing on me.

My hellhound pushes hard beneath my skin.

She stops.

So do I.

For a second, neither of us looks anywhere else.

What the fuck is that about?

“Siren,” Coil says, releasing her arm the second Raze gives the smallest nod. “Found her at the tear. No affiliation I could smell. She’s got a knife on her, but hasn’t tried anything stupid or the obvious.”

The obvious being whatever lives behind that pretty mouth of hers, and every brother in this yard knows exactly what a siren’s voice can do to a man who isn’t braced for it.

“Name?” Raze demands.

“Echo.”

One name.

That’s all she gives us, her chin lifting slightly as she holds Raze’s stare.

Good-fucking-luck getting anything else out of her.