Page 26

Rocky

The sky hung heavy, clouds thick and low like they knew what was comin’. I felt it in my bones, same way I felt when a shift was near. Or a storm. Or blood.

We were supposed to be runnin’ a simple supply haul, nothing fancy, just a quick trip up the mountain to meet one of Appollo’s old contacts. Couple crates of parts for our bikes, some off-the-books equipment for the shop, plus a few unregistered odds and ends I didn’t ask too many questions about.

But even before we left the Wild Dog, my hackles were up.

Bandit had been actin’ squirrelly all damn morning. Snappin’ at Smokey over nothin’. Avoidin’ eye contact. And not once did he look me in the eye when he said he was ridin’ out.

The kid had always been trouble, but I’d vouched for him once. Thought maybe he’d settle into the brotherhood. Now? I wasn’t so sure.

Me, Smokey, Bandit, TNT, and a prospect named Flint rolled out. We were halfway up the pass, takin’ the long way toward Sevierville, when I caught the scent.

Wrong. Rotten .

It was faint at first, like the smell of a bad memory, burned leather, blood magic, something cold under the pine.

“Hold up,” I barked into the comm.

The bikes slowed and pulled to the side of the road. I swung off mine and scanned the tree line. The air was still. Too still.

“You smell that?” I asked Smokey.

He nodded grimly. “Ain’t normal.”

Flint was fidgetin’ like a kid who’d just pissed off a teacher. “You think it’s… them?”

“Yeah,” I growled. “I do.”

The them in question was a rival club called Ashhowl MC. Nasty fuckers. Rumors said they weren’t just patched-in criminals, they were necromancer-backed, blood-fueled freaks with a taste for the supernatural.

We’d tangled with 'em once, years back. Lost two brothers.

I didn’t like coincidences. Especially not with Birdie still tryin’ to come to terms with what she’d seen and the shift I knew was simmerin’ beneath her skin from my damn bite.

We mounted back up and rolled slow, cautious, eyes everywhere.

That’s when it happened.

The trees exploded .

I saw the first Molotov arc through the air, flames burstin’ bright against the asphalt.

“Ambush!” I roared.

Figures burst from the tree line, leathers we didn’t recognize, some masked, some painted with bone symbols that made my skin crawl. At least ten of ‘em.

The fight was on.

I yanked my blade free and caught the first bastard mid-charge. Slashed across his chest and kicked him back toward the brush.

Smokey was holdin’ his own, swingin’ a length of chain like a man possessed. TNT already had blood on his hands and a look in his eyes that meant trouble for anyone crossin’ him.

Flint…

I looked for him, instinct pricklin’.

He wasn’t fightin’.

He was standin’ off to the side, watchin’.

“Flint!” I hollered. “Get in the goddamn fight!”

He looked right at me and smiled.

Then he pulled his gun on Bandit.

Bang.

The brother went down.

“Motherfucker!” I bellowed, lungin’ toward him.

A second later, I was tackled from behind. Two of the enemy slammed into me, one gettin’ a blade across my ribs before I could throw him off. I hit the ground hard, air punched from my lungs.

Pain flared hot and mean, blood pourin’ fast as they continued their assault, slicing me.

My vision blurred.

Then I heard it.

“Rocky!”

Birdie.

What the hell?

I blinked and saw her runnin’ toward the turmoil, duckin’ low behind a burned-out truck, eyes wild, hair flyin’.

“Get back!” I tried to yell, but it came out weak.

She didn’t listen. But the men scurried, taking their knives with them.

Birdie skidded to her knees beside me, hands goin’ straight for the wounds.

“Jesus, you’re bleedin’ bad,” she gasped, voice tremblin’ but steady enough .

I tried to sit up, grabbed her arm. “You gotta go. Now.”

“Not leavin’ you.”

Of course she wasn’t.

Gunfire cracked in the distance. That’s when I saw my brother, Villain, firing back at them. TNT was screamin’ somethin’, Smokey cussin’ a blue streak. A border collie was bleeding out. Bandit had shifted.

And Flint…

I turned my head, and there he was, standin’ smug as sin next to one of the masked bastards.

Traitor.

He locked eyes with me, then vanished into the trees.

“Fucker sold us out,” I growled.

Birdie’s hands were soaked in my blood now. She was tryin’ to press a shirt to the wound.

“Rocky,” she said, voice small. “Stay with me.”

I nodded, barely.

“You’re not dyin’ today, you hear me?” she said, voice fierce now. “Not after everything. Not after takin’ me flyin’ and kissin’ me like you meant it.”

Damn. I loved this woman .

“Birdie…” I started. But the edges of the world were darkenin’. Instead, I let her voice be the last thing I heard before the black took me.

I woke up to pain. Not sharp, not fresh. Dull and deep, the kind that settled into your bones and made itself at home. My ribs were wrapped tight. Everything ached, and the air stank of antiseptic and pine. Musky wallpaper and memories.

The homestead.

I blinked hard, tryin’ to focus. Someone had turned off the overhead lights, but a single lamp burned low near the couch.

And there she was.

Birdie.

Curled up in one of the old leather chairs, lookin’ like a damn painting, hair a wild mess, mascara smudged under her eyes, holdin’ a bloody t-shirt that used to be mine.

She didn’t know I was awake yet.

Didn’t see the way my heart cracked wide open just watchin’ her.

“You always sleep like the dead?” she muttered, not even glancin’ up.

I coughed, throat dry. “Only when I’ve been stabbed like someone was playing Wack a mole.”

She stood up so fast the chair groaned, marchin’ over. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were gonna die!”

“I’m too mean to die,” I croaked.

She shoved my shoulder. Not hard, but enough. “You nearly bled out in my lap, Rocky. Don’t joke.”

I caught her wrist before she pulled away. “You saved my ass.”

Her eyes filled. “Yeah, well. Somebody had to.”

“You shouldn’t’ve been there.”

“Tough.” Her chin lifted. “I came because I knew somethin’ was wrong. I could feel it.”

That got my attention.

“You felt it?” I asked.

My wolf stirred at that.

The bond. That connection. It’d only grow stronger.

She hesitated. “Yeah. Like a tug. Low in my stomach. Couldn’t sit still. Asked Villain to help…”

“My brother?”

“Knox and Eliza had an emergency. Since you were gone, Knox asked Villain to keep an eye on me.”

“My brother’s not to be trusted.”

That’s when the asshole came into view. “Thanks, I get for savin’ your sorry ass?”

“You just wanted to get your dick wet.”

Birdie looked at me hard.

“Your brother and I got to you just in time. You were on the ground, leakin’ all over the place.”

Villain laughed like a loon. “He wouldn’t have died.”

Birdie ignored him.

“Who were those men?” Villain asked.

I sat up, wincin’. “Rival club. Ashhowl MC. Necromancer-backed. And Flint. Traitor. Little shit sold us out.”

Villain’s face hardened. “Knox is already on it.”

I stared at her, at the fire in her eyes. At the way she didn’t flinch at the blood or the violence.

She moved to sit beside me on the couch, close but not too close. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Eventually.” I reached for her hand, and this time, she didn’t pull away.

“Birdie,” I said, voice low, raw. “There’s things I still gotta tell you.”

She looked at me, unreadable. “Then tell me. But don’t lie. Don’t sugarcoat.”

That’s when Bearcat and Loretta busted in making a fuss. They were haulin’ me back to a bed, so Loretta could stitch me up arguing about how deep my wounds were. Apparently too deep for my old blood to heal .

Birdie held my gaze a moment longer, then leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

And I knew then.

The woman would burn the world down for me.