Page 43 of Moonlight & Mayhem

“Good,” he breathed.

“I’m talking through it,” she said. Howler looked only slightly less annoyed. Tempest pressed the intercom button that Chris had installed after the last attack. “You’ve got thirty seconds to identify yourself before my club starts shooting.” Her order was met with laughter from the woman outside, and Mayhem winced.

“My name won’t mean anything to you,” the woman said.

Tempest’s expression didn’t change. “Then you’ve got twenty-five seconds.”

“I’m not here for Dark Chaos,” the woman insisted.

“Wrong answer.” Mayhem almost laughed, because that sounded like Tempest.

The woman paused. “I’m here for Moonlight.” Mayhem stepped forward, and Moon tightened her grip.

“Mayhem,” she whispered.

“I know,” he breathed, but his wolf didn’t seem to get the memo. The animal wanted outside. He wanted blood. Hell, he wanted the strange woman’s throat between his jaws. Mayhem forced himself to stay human, mostly because Moon had made it painfully clear another shift might kill him.

Tempest pressed the intercom button. “You came to my clubhouse for one of my women. That means you came for Dark Chaos.”

Howler’s mouth twitched. He was a proud bastard, and Mayhem understood that feeling now. “I mean Moonlight no harm.”

“Then leave,” Tempest said.

“I can’t,” the woman insisted.

“Then we’ve got a problem,” Tempest spat.

“We already have a problem. That’s why I’m here,” the woman said. Moon went still as the woman continued. “The corruption inside the Silverfang wolf is progressing.” Every eye in the room turned toward Mayhem.

“Silverfang wolf?” he muttered. “I have a name.” Moon shot him a look. “What? It’s true,” he grumbled.

Tempest pressed the button again. “You know what was put inside him?”

“Yes,” the woman said.

Moon moved forward, and Mayhem caught her waist. She glared up at him. “No.”

“She has answers,” Moon whispered.

“It’s a trap,” he insisted.

“It might be, but I need to know what’s inside of you,” she said. Moon lowered her voice. “If she knows how to stop this⁠—”

“I don’t care,” Mayhem said, cutting her off.

“You should care,” Moon said.

“I care if it hurts you,” he said. Her expression softened. Mayhem hated it when she did that, because soft Moon was dangerous. She made him want things that he had no business wanting.

Tempest glanced toward them. “Moon?”

Moon looked at her Prez. “Ask what it is.”

Tempest nodded. “What did they put inside Mayhem?”

“Night root,” the woman said.

Moon inhaled sharply, and Mayhem looked down at her. “You know it?”