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Silver was the heart and soul of our pack. His presence soothed all of us, but most importantly, he calmed my Sgt. at Arms. However, the instinct to hunt was riding him hard now. He was called by the plight of the captives more than most and his wolf was baying for blood. And, when our resident firebug wanted to exact revenge, he did it in style.
“Two on each door, right?” he continued. “So we go down in twos, one distracts while the other slits their throats. While you guys cause mayhem, I’ll prepare the tinderbox.”
Silver had a good mind for tactics and was ruthless when his brothers’ lives were on the line. Although he gave wise counsel, he also took orders without question, making him an invaluable member of my inner circle.
I nodded. It was a good plan. With one minor adjustment.
“Three in each team.” He didn’t argue, merely waited for me to explain. “One distracts, while the other two take down the guards. We do it simultaneously. No fancy shit. Take the guards out, then head inside. Silver, you can do your thing but watch your six. These fuckers might look lazy but you never know. I want everyone else to spread out inside the auction and be ready to strike at my signal. Got it?”
Reacting to the barely-contained aggression in my voice, Mongrel snarled then leaned forward on his seat and tapped knuckles with Silver. A simple touch which settled them both. My heart clenched. Not so much in jealousy—I didn’t begrudge my oldest friend his happiness—but a small, quiet part of me yearned for such easy intimacy.
In his other hand, Silver already had his zippo out, lighting it up and flicking it shut in a self-soothing fashion while his gaze stared off into the past. He had come so far with us, I hoped this mission wasn’t going to set him back.
Silver had been too young the last time the Blood Moon reigned so he’d never experienced the pull of the Chaos in his old pack, thank the Goddess. I shuddered to think how he would have been treated there. Given Mongrel and Silver had never ridden out a Chaos together, no one could confirm if they were true mates. But I had a feeling those two would go off like a match thrown into a barrel of fireworks. If they ever got the chance.
With a chin lift to me, Mongrel took over the briefing. “Inside there are about thirty Bone Crushers. On top of that, we have about eighty wolves from the valley and its surrounds.”
“This sort of bullshit is why humans think of us as nothing but animals,” Silver muttered.
It was true. It only took a few bad apples to turn the humans against us. And outright war between humans and wolves in Chaos Valley would mean a bloodbath none of us could afford. Sensing my thoughts, Silver’s hand briefly clapped on my shoulder in solidarity.
“According to our intel, a group of about twenty are being kept in a gutted clubroom up top. The signal will confirm which one,” Mongrel continued. “Much like our clubhouse, the common areas are on the ground floor. The auction will be held in the bar so they can keep the cash flowing. Also of note, there is a front and a back staircase, so watch your six.”
He fixed his brothers with a fierce no bullshit stare.
“Our mission is to get those humans out first. The Bone Crushers have done more than enough damage. So when the Prez makes his move, take down any fuckers who get in your way and clear a path for our team to head upstairs. But no theatrics—” he smiled grimly, “—save those for later.”
“Also, let's not traumatize the poor bastards any more than necessary,” Silver added dryly, earning a few mirthless chuckles.
“Once the humans are safe,” Mongrel pressed on. “Then the fun starts. We will level the place and take down any fuckers too stupid to flee. We don’t need heroes, we need brothers who have our backs. Right?”
I growled in agreement. Our brothers knew how to get the job done. We’d console the unfortunate survivors once the carnage was over. And it would be carnage.
“Mongrel,” I barked. “Choose teams.”
The beast clawed its way up my throat. With a stiff nod, Mongrel made short work of dividing up our men while I glared at the Badlands, daring the brutal landscape to defy me. Done, he turned back, waiting on my official command.
“Let’s get this shit done.” I raised my voice so I could be heard over the chorus of revving bikes. “Wolves of the Blood Moon Goddess, let’s ride.”
* * *
There wasn’t enough scrub to hide our rides. But with the number of bikes scattered around the clubhouse—and I use that word in the loosest sense—it would only draw unwanted attention to try. The Bone Crushers had plenty of visitors. They wouldn’t notice a few well-maintained pieces dispersed among the riff raff.
After hanging my helmet on the handlebar, I tucked my sunglasses into it then did a quick weapons check.
Guns. Two under my cut in a shoulder holster and one tucked into my boot. That tiny sucker didn’t get much use.
Knives. Eleven in total. Tucked into my pockets, strapped to my thighs, and a very special blade that fit into my shoulder holster edged in silver. It would kill—slowly and painfully—any wolf I wedged it into. I sure hoped Chains gave me the opportunity.
The silver weapons trade was one of the Soul Reapers’ most lucrative side hustles. Silver was a rare and expensive commodity in the Valley and a wonderful equalizer in a dog fight. We believed the humans—the good ones, at least—deserved all the help they could get.
It wasn’t considered sporting for a wolf to carve into an opponent with the antithesis to our healing powers but, as far as I was concerned, the Bone Crushers MC had signed away their right to a clean end when they entered the skin trade.
And honestly, I didn’t give a rat’s ass what these wolves thought of me. Chains didn’t deserve a noble death. He deserved to bleed out in a ditch, begging for his life like the little bitch he was.
I checked the time on my phone. Ten minutes until the sun kissed the horizon, which would mark another uneventful year passing without the Chaos. Personally, I’d given up on hoping that it would come again, and with it the chance to meet my perfect mate. Not that it mattered.
Something about it all sat wrong with me. One week where the baser instincts of our animals rode our skin and supercharged our need to mate? Yeah, I was good without that screwing up my life, thanks.
