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Story: Reclaimed

Hawk jogged back down the path, looking intensely irritated. “Those two meatheads are gone,” he said. “So is Sean. They had all this planned.”

“Of course they did,” I said with a sigh.

“Why didn’t he challenge you?” Striker asked. “This was the perfect time.”

“Because he knows he’d lose,” Hawk said.

I nodded. “I don’t know if he’ll ever issue a challenge. He’s too far gone. I think his goals might be different now.”

“What do you think he wants?” Striker asked.

“I think he wants to destroy the clan,” I said, “and take me down with it.”

38

HARLEY

Two bikes pulled up to the house, but no Cadillac, and my heart leaped into my throat.

Cassidy and I had been sitting on the couch for what felt like hours. We each had a glass of wine, but we weren’t really drinking it. I’d seen what looked like an explosion across the lake—right where Steph had said he’d be meeting his brother. Since seeing that bright orange light, my nerves had been chewing at me.

I trusted Steph. I trusted that he’d be okay.

What other choice did I have?

The explosion had woken Dylan, but I’d gotten him back to sleep with a little white lie that it wasn’t anything important and that it was far away. He’d looked at me with sleepy confusion, like he knew I was lying. Luckily, he hadn’t been awake enough to push, and he soon settled into sleep again.

Dylan had his father’s draconic senses. There’d be no lying to Dylan, not anymore.

As soon as the bikes approached, I rushed to the front door and yanked it open. Relief washed over me as I saw the bikes carried three people: Striker on one, and Hawk and Steph on theother. Hawk threw me a salute and pulled out of the driveway as soon as Steph hopped off. That didn’t surprise me. I was sure he wanted to get back to Mia just as badly as I had wanted Steph back with me.

Steph stepped onto the front porch, and I immediately wrapped him into a hard hug. I exhaled hard, and it felt like the first breath I’d taken in hours. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel how scared I was, and now all that terror crashed over me and dissipated. Suddenly, I was bone-tired.

“Are you okay?” I ran my hands up and down his arms, his back, his chest, checking for any injuries or pains.

“I’m fine, Harley,” he said warmly. “Cadillac’s not, but the fire department is handling that.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry. I know you loved that car.”

“Eh, gives me an excuse to start another project car.”

I laughed, a little disbelieving, a lot worn out, and patted his chest. “How can you sound so relaxed? Didn’t Sean just try to blow you up? What the hell happened out there?”

“Let’s go inside. I’ll tell you everything.”

Inside, Striker had poured himself a finger of Night Shift whiskey, and was talking to Cassidy in the kitchen. They smiled at us when we walked in, then Striker gestured for Cassidy to join him out on the back porch. I was grateful for the privacy as I pulled Steph toward the couch.

“What did Sean want?” I asked. “Besides you getting blown to bits.”

Steph sighed. He raked a hand through his hair, then walked me through everything that had happened: how Sean had demanded the clan, again, threatened Steph with jail time, then blew up his car.

God, what if someone had been in that car? “He’s sick. Why do you keep trying to meet up with him? He’s just trying to lure you somewhere where he can kill you.”

“He won’t do that,” Steph said. “If he kills me without issuing a challenge, the clan will go to Dylan. He can’t issue a challenge, because he knows he’ll lose in an honorable fight.”

“That’s why he wanted to kidnap Dylan,” I said. “He wanted the next alpha in line out of the picture.”

“Yeah. It’s a baseless idea—the clan would never allow him to step in if something like that happened.”

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