6. Ryan

Chapter six

Ryan

I could feel Mai’s eyes from across the room, and I tried to school my face into something more neutral. Easier said than done. Part of me was overjoyed to see her laughing at something Shya had just said, her eyes momentarily lighting up with something close to peace as she glanced at me. It had been far too long since I’d seen that look on her. Too long since I hadn’t felt her tiredness, her fear. Our mate bond hummed with humor, but there was still something else beneath it—an undercurrent of fear, anxiety, a sharp edge that she couldn’t seem to push down.

She caught my eye and lifted one brow in that way she did whenever she knew I was trying to figure her out. I gave her a little nod—a silent “I’m watching you.” She flashed a small grin in return, but it didn’t quiet the tension inside me.

I wished I could solve whatever was bothering her. But whatever it was—this fear that had wormed its way into her thoughts and dreams—it wasn’t something my fists or claws could fix. This wasn’t a fight. It was something else. Something deeper. Instinctively, I felt my wolf shift under my skin, restless and growling, demanding I do something to make it right. But until I knew what was going on inside of her head, I had no idea what to do. My fists clenched. This wasn’t an enemy I could kill, and it was driving me and my wolf nuts. Was it about the baby? I was trying to be strong for Mai, but I was scared shitless about what dangers our kids would have to face in this world. We were Alphas, and that meant we had a target on our backs at all times. Could I protect them both? They just had to get it right once to kill one of us. I would have to get it right every fucking time to protect my family.

My phone rang in my pocket, and I glanced down at the screen.

Jase’s name flashed across the display.

I hit the connect button. “Yeah?”

“Ryan, there’s a guy at the western perimeter. Says his name is Maxwell Bishop.”

Maxwell Bishop? I cursed under my breath. Bishop . As in, Ronnie Bishop. The last thing I needed right now was some complication involving Ronnie’s mess of biker affairs.

“As in—?”

“Yeah, he says he’s Ronnie’s brother.”

Just fucking great.

“What the hell does he want?”

“He’s got a werewolf pup with him, Ryan. A girl about ten years old. Looks terrified as hell. Says they need help.”

My gaze instinctively scanned the room, finding Mai. Her eyes met mine, and even across the room, I could feel her wolf rising. She sensed it. Something was wrong.

Fuck. I wanted tonight to be special for Mai. Family, food, relaxing times, not some mess the Bishops had dumped in our laps. But we needed to know what the hell he wanted before I sent them on their way.

“Bring them here. Make sure they’re not tailed.”

“You got it.” Jase ended the call, and I tucked the phone back into my pocket just as Mai got to me, a question on her face.

I sighed. “Jase is bringing Maxwell Bishop, Ronnie’s brother, and a young werewolf girl here. They’re at the western perimeter, asking for help.”

“Help? What sort of help?”

“That’s what we’re gonna find out. It shouldn’t take long. We’ll be done before dinner’s ready.”

I hoped that was true. Mai needed this meal with all of us together. We all did.

“Alright,” she murmured as she tipped her chin up slightly. “But if Maxwell is here, where the hell is Ronnie?”

“That’s the first question I’m going to ask him.”

Fifteen minutes later, I stood in the brisk air just outside the Alpha House, the twinkling light streaming from around the windows behind me onto the frost-covered front yard. Even the yard and the cul-de-sac hadn’t escaped Wally’s decorations. The whole place looked like a damn Christmas card had exploded all over it—complete with an army of light-up reindeer, a massive inflatable snowman that swayed eerily in the winter breeze, and enough strands of twinkling lights to probably be visible from space. Wally had even managed to convince Derek and Sam to string lights through all the trees lining the street, creating a glowing tunnel effect that was admittedly pretty impressive, even if it had taken them three hours and a lot of cursing to get it done.

I heard the crunch of the car approaching. Then a black SUV pulled up and Jase got out, his face full of wariness. From the passenger seat, a man appeared. Tall, definitely over six feet, with a broad chest and lean, muscular arms. His movements were sharp, deliberate. But what struck me more than his physique was the gleam in his sharp, assessing eyes. Not the kind of man who missed much.

Maxwell Bishop. He was Ronnie’s brother, alright. I could see it in the bone structure—strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, the same intense stare Ronnie had, though Maxwell’s felt … colder. More clinical. Where Ronnie exuded rebellion, chaos, and a near carelessness, Maxwell felt like precision personified. There were no unnecessary movements with him. His presence radiated control.

A slight figure jumped out of the car behind Maxwell, one small hand clutching his jacket and half-hiding behind his legs. The scent hit me before I had a clear look at her—a young werewolf, frightened but strong. Her hair was dark brown, practically black, thick and wild around her small, pale face. It fell in jagged, uneven lengths, as if someone had tried cutting it with a blade and, somewhere along the way, gave up. Despite the way it hid most of her features, her eyes still peeked out from under her bangs, watching me warily.

Then the girl, small and fragile as she appeared, shifted her stance, almost as if on instinct. That brief flicker of motion, that loosening of her small hands around the hem of his jacket, was enough to set every nerve in my body alight with recognition.

It wasn’t that she was hiding behind him out of fear. No, this wasn’t an instinct to shield herself. She was positioning herself to protect him.

Interesting.

The movement was small, not even noticeable to Maxwell, whose eyes were scanning the compound like he was mapping every exit.

“Ryan,” Jase greeted me with a quick nod, his eyes flicking between me and Maxwell. “No one followed. Just these two.”

Maxwell raised both hands, palms out, in a pacifying gesture as he neared the steps, but his blue eyes remained sharp, assessing the threat.

I met Maxwell’s eyes briefly as he stepped closer, but he instinctively broke contact, looking down and keeping his posture low—a subtle show of submission. The guy knew what he was doing. He clearly had experience around wolves. He knew not to challenge my dominance, not even a little.

My wolf stirred under my skin, curious, cautious.

Maxwell kept his movements slow and precise. “Ryan Shaw.”

I crossed my arms. “You show up out of nowhere, at the edge of my territory, with someone else’s pup. I hope you’ve got a damn good reason.”

“I do.” He nodded to the girl. “Her Pack is hunting her. I want you to protect her.”