Page 31 of Moonlight & Mayhem

Tempest followed Chris, already calling orders into the hallway. Howler and Chrome went with her. Moon and Mayhem were alone again. He looked toward the red moon. “So.”

Moon didn't like that tone. “So what?”

“Your vision,” he said.

“Which one?” she asked.

“The one about Chris,” he said.

“What about it?”

“You saw a man,” he reminded.

“Yes, I did,” she admitted.

“Think he's important?” Moon thought about the shadowed figure and the way he'd stood behind Chris. He wasn’t threatening her, but protecting her.

“I think he might be,” Moon said.

Mayhem smiled. “Maybe your VP is about to have her own mate problem.” Moon looked toward the doorway Chris had disappeared through, and a strange feeling settled over her. It wasn’t dread, but something else—change.

“I think Christmas is about to have a lot of problems,” she said.

Mayhem chuckled. Moon looked back at the red moon, and her amusement vanished because Chris wasn't the only thing she'd seen during the vision. There had been something carved into the snow beside her motorcycle—a symbol of a crescent moon wrapped in black thorns. It was the same symbol in her grandmother's journal. Moon walked back to the book and stared at the faded drawing.

Mayhem came up beside her. “What’s bothering you?” he asked, picking up on her agitation.

She pointed. “I saw this.”

“In the vision?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“With Chris?” Moon nodded, and Mayhem's expression hardened. “So whatever is coming for you eventually gets to her.”

“Maybe.” Her wolf paced inside her. Moon closed the journal. “No more ignoring my instincts.”

Mayhem studied her. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Good,” he said.

She looked at him. “They're telling me something right now.”

His eyebrows lifted. “What?”

Moon stepped closer and put her hand against his chest. His heartbeat steadied beneath her palm. “We don't run.”

A slow smile spread across Mayhem's face. “No, Moonlight.” His hand covered hers. “We don't.” Outside, the red shadow continued spreading across the moon, and somewhere deep inside the Dark Chaos clubhouse, Christmas shouted at one of the prospects for failing to secure a window. Moon smiled faintly because whatever was coming had picked the wrong women to fuck with. Dark Chaos didn't run from storms—they became them.

Mayhem

Mayhem had never trusted visions. Give him an enemy he could see, and he knew what to do. Give him a knife, a gun, a set of tracks in the mud, and he could make sense of the world. But a blood-red moon, an old journal, and a woman who could see pieces of the future? That was enough mystical bullshit to make his head hurt. Unfortunately, Moon believed it, and Mayhem believed Moon. That was the problem.

He stood near the clinic window, staring out at the reddish shadow creeping across the moon while Moon moved behind him, checking supplies for what had to be the hundredth time. She had changed since the vision. Not dramatically because Moon wasn’t dramatic, but something in her had shifted. She wasn’t hiding from what she saw anymore—she was listening instead. Mayhem liked that, and his wolf liked it even more.

“Stop staring at me,” she grumbled. Moon didn’t look up from the medical cabinet when she said it.