23. Mai

The scene in front of me was straight out of a rugged urban tale—a biker repair workshop nestled in the heart of bustling Haxton. Packed between an old hardware store and a graffiti-adorned brick building, it was a world of its own. Worn-out motorcycles and greasy parts cluttered the limited yard, while men marked by ink were either lost in mechanical work or passing time. They were all human, but the glint of metal—guns, knives, brass knuckles—made it clear that we were in a den of wolves, albeit of a different breed. I knew if it came to it, it would be tough going trying to fight our way out of this.

Ryan parked our car amidst the buzz of power tools and the metallic symphony of hammers and wrenches. The air was heavy with the smell of oil, gasoline, and heated metal. The workshop's noises dimmed as we stepped out, replaced by an unnerving silence as every eye turned our way. Ryan moved to my side and placed a warm hand on my back. He was making a statement to everyone here, and my wolf sighed in contentment.

A man emerged from the crowd—a vision of raw strength and easy charisma. He had broad shoulders that rippled with muscularity, capped by a head of thick, tousled chestnut hair. Blue eyes, electric under the workshop lights, appraised us with measured curiosity. His biceps, where a snake tattoo coiled in a captivating dance, bulged as he crossed his arms. He was wearing a fitted black T-shirt that outlined his powerful torso, and a leather wristband around a strong wrist. This had to be Ronnie—even though he was young for a gang leader.

"Shya," he greeted, his voice gravelly but not unkind. He barely glanced at the rest of us, his eyes only for her.

Mason was on alert. Only those who knew him best would see it, but while his body was casual, underneath his relaxed posture, I knew he was coiled and ready.

"Ronnie. Good to see you," Shya replied, walking forward and shaking his hand. "These are my associates." She introduced us one by one, Ronnie giving us all a curt nod.

"Come on," Ronnie said, "we can talk in the office."

He led us through the workshop. Men stepped aside, their hard gazes watching us.

Ronnie's office was tidy, almost clinical, with clean countertops and a polished oak desk. A large window overlooked the workshop, giving a clear view of everything outside. There were no biker gang posters or naked-women decorations. Instead, it was clean, sleek, and modern with framed pictures of motorcycles, a corkboard neatly pinned with maps and notes, and a single black-and-white photograph of a teenage Ronnie with a beautiful woman and two young kids. It was the kind of office that reflected a man who valued order amidst chaos.

Ronnie sat down in the chair behind the desk and leaned back. "So, what brings you all the way out to Haxton?"

"Information," Shya replied. "Mai is Jem's sister."

"I know who she is," Ronnie said, never taking his eyes off of Shya.

"She and Ryan are going to challenge Brock and Hayley for the Three Rivers Pack. We've heard that Tristan has been seen with them. We need to know what they're planning."

Ronnie let out a low whistle. "That's a big ask."

"I'm aware," she replied. "But it's one I'm willing to pay for."

Ronnie looked her over. "A favor," he said finally. "To be collected at a later date."

Mason bristled beside her. "Don't even fucking think about it."

She raised a hand. "I've done it before, Mason. And I'll do it again. Okay, Ronnie, terms. Nothing sexual. Nothing that requires me to remove my clothing. Nothing that will result in my death or serious injury. Nothing that puts the safety of my Pack or family at risk. Acceptable?"

Ronnie grinned. "Deal." Then his attention shifted to Ryan and me. "And you two, are you also willing to owe me a favor?" His voice was heavy with implication, the question hanging in the air like a loaded gun.

Ryan flashed his teeth at Ronnie. But we were in uncharted territory. We needed this information, and it was a price we had to pay.

"Same terms," I said, my voice firm. Ryan's jaw clenched. He knew I was right, but he didn't like it.

I felt uneasy agreeing to this deal, but the risk was necessary. We had to protect our Pack, avenge Jem's death, and challenge Brock and Hayley. Nothing else mattered right now.

"Alrighty, then," said Ronnie, and he leaned forward. "Brock and Hayley are sitting tight right now. They know you're in Bridgetown. They can't personally attack yet, not without fucking up their plans with Tristan. But we're hearing whispers they've contracted out your removal. I don't know who, but someone outside the Pack is supposed to be on their way. If we find out who, I'll let you know. As for your boy Tristan, he's been cozying up to Brock and Hayley, just as you suspected," he continued, his gaze fixed on Shya. "They've got people on the inside of the Bridgetown Pack."

My eyes darted to Shya. It couldn't be easy knowing there were still traitors in her Pack.

"They're keeping a close eye on Michael and Camille. From what I hear, Tristan is planning to attack them during the trip to your regional Pack Meet in two days."

"You sure?" Shya asked, her voice strangled.

"You questioning my information, darlin'?"

Shya shook her head. "It's my parents, Ronnie. I need to be sure."

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "I guess I'd be the same. I'm sure, Shya. Tristan is out for blood. He's going to ambush them when they leave. He isn't planning on leaving anyone alive."

Mason reached out and placed his hand on Shya's shoulder. "We'll stop him."

She looked around at him, her face pale, then she nodded.

We had less than forty-eight hours to prevent this.

"Thank you, Ronnie." I locked eyes with him, making sure he saw the determination in mine. "We'll be in touch."

As we left Ronnie's office and began making our way back to the car, I couldn't help but wonder how Ronnie did it. How did he have access to this information? Ronnie was a man we were going to have to watch. If we got our Pack back, the last thing we needed was Ronnie knowing all our business.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Shya," Ronnie called out as we walked away. His voice carried a tone of finality, a goodbye and a caution wrapped up in one.

Shya turned around, a small, almost challenging smile on her face. "Always do," she shot back, her eyes twinkling with confidence.

"Well, you know where I am if you ever want to forget your troubles, Shya. I'll make them all go away for you." His voice was low and heated, full of promise.

Mason stiffened. "Hey," he snapped, striding toward to Ronnie. "Back the fuck off."

Shya placed a hand on Mason's arm, pulling him back.

"I can handle myself, Mason," she said, her voice calm but firm, as Ronnie laughed.

"We have to go," Ryan said, stepping between Ronnie and Mason. Mason stared at Ronnie for a moment longer, then nodded. He placed a hand on Shya"s back and steered her to the car, keeping between her and Ronnie. Man, he had it bad.

We all piled into the car. Ryan behind the wheel, me in the passenger seat, and Shya, Mason, and Sam huddled in the back.

"Well, this is awkward." Sam was sitting in the middle between Mason and Shya and was glancing between them.

I didn"t envy him. I could smell the anger rolling off both Mason and Shya.

"Shut up, bro," growled Mason.

Undeterred, Sam replied, "I mean, I get it. You"re all broody and protective, and Shya"s rocking the whole "I"m a strong, independent woman" vibe."

"Don"t make me shut your mouth for you, Sam Shaw!" Shya threatened.

Sam grinned at her. "I can see why Mason likes you so much. You"re fun!"

Haxton disappeared behind us as we drove, replaced by the dull monotony of a deserted highway. Night began to fall, a cloak of darkness seeping across the sky, the last streaks of the sunset bleeding into the horizon.

"Ronnie might be a useful contact to have," I said.

"Are you kidding?" Ryan replied. "He's a human who knows way too much about our Packs and our business. Once this is over, we need to shut him down."

I turned to face Ryan. "You're right; he is a human who knows too much. That tells me he's resourceful, he has extensive contacts, and he knows how to leverage who and what he knows to find out things that we can't. We'll need to watch him closely, but he's useful, Ryan. We'll need people like him if we want to protect our Pack."

"He's human," Ryan repeated.

"And that means?"

"It means we should never forget that he isn't a werewolf. He doesn't understand our kind and shouldn't be involved in our business."

"I'm not asking him to join our Pack, Ryan. I'm suggesting we get information from him. He obviously has contacts and resources that we don't, and until we build those up, it would be stupid for us not to use him."

Ryan was silent as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

"You're right. We need to use everyone at our disposal, no matter who or what they are. I'll deal with Ronnie in the future, though."

I knew it was the mating bond driving him to try to keep me away from any male, Shifter or human, and there was no point in arguing with him. Not right now.

Twenty minutes later, I was leaning my head against the cold glass window, the world outside blurring into a mix of inky skies and fleeting shadows. A deep sense of unease was creeping up on me, filling the pit of my stomach with dread. We had to stop Tristan, and we had to challenge Brock and Hayley. All in the next two days. Yet, we had no plan and weren't sure who was on our side and who wasn't.

The peace of the night was broken by a sudden roar of engines, the sharp, biting sound echoing through the otherwise quiet night. I jerked my head up and twisted around to look behind us.

Headlights, bright and blinding, were closing in fast, multiplying, until the road behind us was lit up like a runway. My breath hitched as I counted them. Six. Six cars.

"Ryan."

"I see them," he replied, speeding up.

"Ronnie?" I asked Shya.

"No," Shya replied. "He's strictly a bike guy. This isn't him."

An engine revved behind us. Ryan's eyes darted to the rearview mirror, and his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. The car swerved as he jerked the wheel, trying to get out of the way of a car that was trying to ram us. The sudden maneuver threw us off balance. I could hear the panicked shouts of Shya from the back seat, the screeching tires, the snarling engines behind us.

Ryan swerved and dodged again, trying to throw them off, but they were persistent.

"Brace!" Ryan shouted, just as a deafening crash echoed through the car as one of the pursuing cars rammed into us, sending our car spinning. My head slammed into the window, the world tumbling around me. Ryan was trying to regain control of the vehicle, but it was too late. The world flipped, the car rolled, and everything went black.