Page 29

Rocky

The next morning Birdie woke with a start. Hell, I was sore, from the attack, from the sex marathon. But I could feel her panic.

“What is it, Sunshine?”

“We’ve got to go to Eliza’s,” she said in a terror. She didn’t explain and I didn’t push as I followed her out to my Harley. There was no need to, I felt her resolve, the pull leading her to her best friend’s door.

The second I saw the empty swing set swayin’ in the breeze, I knew somethin’ was wrong.

The yard was too quiet as I parked my Harley.

Emma’s little pink sneakers were lyin’ on their side near the porch, like she’d kicked ’em off mid-play. But no Eliza callin’ from the kitchen window. No laughter. No Emma.

Just silence.

It settled over me like ash after a wildfire.

I stepped off my bike, boots hittin’ the gravel with a weight that made the whole world feel heavy. My wolf stirred, restless in my chest, hackles risin’ .

Birdie came out the front door, face pale as bone china, eyes wide.

“She’s gone.”

Those two words dropped into my gut like lead.

“What?” I growled.

Her voice cracked, and she covered her mouth, fightin’ back the kind of panic that could break a woman in half. “Eliza said she was just here. She was inside making lunch.”

I moved fast. Didn’t think. My boots hit the porch, past her, past the door, straight into the house. I scanned the rooms, sniffed the air. Her scent—sweet, innocent, full of childlike sunshine—lingered, but another one cut through it.

Rotten.

Familiar.

Whatever had attacked Birdie in the woods.

And Flint.

I turned, fists clenchin’ at my sides. “They took her.”

Birdie followed me in, breath shallow. “What?”

“I can smell ’em. That sorry traitor Flint. And the monster that attacked you in the woods.” My voice was rough, feral. I slammed a hand into the wall, wood splinterin’ beneath my knuckles. “They were workin’ together. I should’ve known. ”

That’s when Birdie stumbled back, like the floor had tilted under her feet. Her body started shakin’. At first I thought it was fear, then I saw her eyes.

Glowing.

Not gold like mine. Not yet. But green with fire.

“Birdie.”

She doubled over, clutchin’ her sides.

My heart stopped. “Shit.”

“I can smell them,” she rasped. “It’s Brent. That creature in the woods. They’re one and the same.” She lifted her head. Her pupils had narrowed, her skin flushed, and her breathing—wild. Animalistic. “I know where they went.”

“You’re shiftin’,” I said, stunned. “Already.”

“It hurts,” she choked out.

“I know, baby.” I pulled her into my arms, holdin’ her tight while she trembled against me. “Don’t fight it. Let it guide you.”

She shoved back from me, hands clutching the doorframe. “We don’t have time. Emma’s out there.”

Birdie gripped the doorframe, white-knuckled. “Why… why would Brent take Emma?”

“To get to me,” I spat. “They know.”

Her glowing eyes locked on mine. “Know what?”

“That I killed Mark.”

Her mouth parted, but no words came. Just that look, shock, horror, betrayal, but underneath it, understanding.

“I snuck into that prison in wolf form,” I said, voice low. “Slipped through the fence under moonlight. I tore his throat out in the yard.”

Birdie didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

She just stared.

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because I protect my Prez. He hurt Eliza. Because he would’ve done worse to Emma. Because he was tied to somethin’ dark—somethin’ comin’ for this club. For all of us. He screamed my name before he bled out. He knew. Because Mark wasn’t what he seemed to be. And the scariest part is he was able to hide from us. Just like Flint was able to.”

Her lips trembled. “And Brent?”

“He was Mark’s shadow. His loyal lapdog. We ran him out of town, but I guess he ain’t done with us yet. And Emma. If Mark was something special, she is too.”

My wolf clawed at my insides, ready to tear into the woods and rip those fuckers apart.

Birdie’s face was fierce now at the realization .

“Emma’s special? Does Eliza know?”

“Not my place to tell her,” I answered honestly, knowing Knox has been struggling with it.

She turned on her heel and ran barefoot toward the treeline.

“Birdie!”

She glanced over her shoulder. “You comin’, or you gonna lecture me?”

Hell.

I shifted.

Fur tore through my skin. Bones cracked, muscles stretched. The pain was white hot for a second, then the world sharpened into clarity. Scents exploded around me. Brent. Flint. Gasoline. Fear.

Birdie was ahead of me, runnin’ through the brush like she’d done it a thousand times. Her senses weren’t fully wolf yet, but they were damn close.

I followed, paws poundin’ the earth, blood boilin’.

Emma was out there.

And no one fucked with my family and lived to brag about it.

We found them near the old river crossing, deep in the pines where the trees grow so thick sunlight barely touches the moss.

I heard her scream before I saw her.

Ain’t nothin’ in this world that'll hollow a man out faster than the sound of a little girl screamin’.

Especially when she ain’t just any little girl—she’s Emma. Eliza’s baby. My president’s future stepdaughter. Family.

It echoed across the Smoky foothills like a bullet ricocheting through bone, sharp enough to slice through engine growl and wind and even my own goddamn heartbeat.

That son of a bitch.

Brent had always smelled like dog shit. I’d scented him once before, back when he first came sniffin’ ‘round again. We’d run him out of Knoxville, but clearly he’d crawled back like the roach he was.

And this time, he had Flint with him.

My wolf bristled.

Flint—our Flint—was a goddamn traitor.

He’d played us all, smilin’ that slick smile and actin’ like he gave a damn about the club. And now? He’d delivered Emma into Brent’s hands like a sacrificial lamb.

Flint had a shotgun slung across his chest. Brent had Emma in his arms, holdin’ her like she was some kind of goddamn bargaining chip.

“Put her down,” I growled, comin’ outta the brush in human form again, blood boilin’.

Birdie was at my side, her shift fading, but her eyes still bright with instinct .

Brent sneered. “Ain’t this sweet? Y’all come runnin’ like dogs to the slaughter.”

“You’ve got one chance,” I said, steppin’ forward. “Hand her over.”

I looked at Emma. Her eyes were wide, lip quivering, but she didn’t cry.

“You don’t put the girl down,” I said slowly. “And you’ll find out what kinda monster I really am.”

Flint stepped in, flashing his weapon.

“You fuckin’ traitor. You were one of us.”

Flint smirked. “Brent offered somethin’ better.”

“You sold out your family for what? Table scraps from a rat like him?”

Brent snarled. “You don’t get to talk. You’re a fuckin’ monster, Rock. You think we don’t know what you did? In that prison yard?”

“The yard,” Flint hissed. “You slunk in there in fur and fangs and tore Mark apart like a fuckin’ beast. Left nothin’ but bones and blood.”

“Mark kidnapped Eliza and Emma. He hurt his little girl. He was scum. Same about to happen to you.”

“He was my brother!” Brent roared, eyes wild like he was gonna shift. But he was holding onto his leverage, Emma. Couldn’t shift without letting the girl go .

“Then maybe you should’ve died with him.”

Flint cocked the shotgun. “Nah. See, we got a deal. You give us safe passin’. And you admit what you did to Mark. In front of your club.”

I laughed. “You think I’m scared of a confession?”

“Don’t matter if you’re scared,” Brent said. “Let your club see what kind of monster you really are. But we’re taking the girl and your new mate. Looks like you saved me the trouble of turning her.”

Birdie moved, so fast I barely saw her. One second she was beside me. The next she was on Flint, teeth bared, claws diggin’ into his neck.

He screamed.

Brent dropped Emma.

I lunged.

Everything went red.

A bullet hit me, but I tackled him into the mud, fists flyin’, rage pourin’ outta me like a river in flood. He swung back, knife slashin’ across my shoulder.

Didn’t matter.

He wasn’t walkin’ outta this.

“You don’t get to breathe the same air as her,” I snarled, punchin’ him hard enough to hear bones crack. “You don’t get to exist in the same goddamn world. ”

He spat blood in my face. “You’re just like me, wolf.”

“No,” I growled. “I don’t hurt women. I don’t steal children. And I sure as hell don’t betray my pack.”

I reached down and pulled.

Snapped.

Brent’s scream was sharp, high-pitched, and then it cut off.

He was done.

I stood, chest heavin’, covered in blood.

Flint was gone, run off or dead, I didn’t care.

Emma was sobbin’ in Birdie’s arms. She’d shifted back and was whisperin’ to Emma, soft and gentle, rockin’ her like a mother would.

I came to them, kneelin’.

Birdie looked up at me.

“You okay?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “But I will be.”

We locked eyes.

We were in this together now.

Bonded by blood, by instinct, by war.

The club would come soon.

But for now?

We had each other.

Behind us, the sound of motorcycles roared as Knox and the others arrived, too late for the worst of it but just in time to see the aftermath.

Smokey kicked Brent’s limp body, and Chevy grabbed him by the collar.

“You’re done,” Smokey snarled.

Knox swept in, eyes goin’ to Emma first, then Birdie, then me. “What the hell happened?”

I looked down at the blood on Birdie’s hands. On mine.

“Blood feud,” I said. “And we won.”

I barely remembered gettin’ out of those woods. Everything after I was shot, blurred into sirens and Birdie’s ragged breath in my ear as I held her tight to me in the back of Knox’s truck. She was shakin’. Covered in dirt and blood, some of it hers, most of it mine, and her eyes were glazed over like she was half here, half somewhere deep inside herself.

Emma was cradled in Eliza’s arms up front, sobbin’ against her mama’s chest, her little hands clingin’ to her like a lifeline. Knox drove like the devil was chasin’ us, and for once, I was grateful he didn’t say a damn word.

Luckily, shifters always have some fresh clothes on them. So, Birdie and I weren’t naked for long. But my side was soaked through with blood. That bullet stuck in me had gone deep. Every bump on the road was hellfire, but I didn’t let go of Birdie. She was curled up in my lap, her face pressed to my neck, whisperin’ the same words over and over again like a prayer.

“I didn’t mean to shift… I didn’t mean to shift…”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her there was no takin’ it back. That the wolf had come, and she’d felt it. That whatever line she’d been tryin’ to toe, between her old life and the world I’d dragged her into, was gone now.

“You did what you had to, sunshine,” I murmured, my voice thick. “You saved her. You saved me.”

Her hands clutched at my shirt, fingers diggin’ into the cotton like it could anchor her to somethin’ real.

The moment we rolled up to the ER, the club was already there. Chevy had beat us there on his bike, and the moment he saw me, he started shoutin’ for a gurney. I tried to walk, but my knees gave out halfway through the doors. They caught me, got me on a stretcher. Birdie tried to follow, but a nurse blocked her.

“He needs help now, ma’am.”

She stood frozen, hands covered in blood, tears streamin’ down her face. “I’m with him. Please—”

“I got her,” Eliza said, scoopin’ Birdie into a tight embrace. “Go, Rocky. We’ll be right here.”

I let go.

They patched me up quick, stitches, fluids, pain meds I didn't want but damn sure needed. I don’t remember passin’ out, but when I came to, I was in a sterile hospital bed with white sheets and a monitor beeping slow and steady beside me.

It was dark outside. Late. My side burned like hell, but I could move.

And she was there.

Birdie was asleep in the chair beside me, knees pulled up to her chest, her head restin’ against the rail of the bed like she couldn’t bear to be far. She’d cleaned up, face washed, clothes changed, but I could still see the remnants of the fight in the way her shoulders hunched and her jaw stayed tight even in sleep.

I reached for her hand.

She stirred, blinked those green eyes at me, and the second they landed on mine, she sat up fast. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Still kickin’.”

Her hand went to her mouth like she was tryin’ to hold in the sob. “They said you lost a lot of blood. That if you hadn’t been a shifter…”

“But I am,” I cut her off gently. “And I’m here.”

She stood then, and before I could blink, she was crawlin’ into the bed beside me, careful of my stitches. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she clung like she was afraid I might vanish again.

“I was so scared,” she whispered. “When I saw you go down… I thought—I thought you were gone.”

“I ain’t that easy to kill,” I muttered, buryin’ my face in her hair.

Her voice cracked. “I felt it… when I changed. Like somethin’ cracked open inside me. And once it was out, I didn’t know how to put it back.”

I pulled back enough to look her in the eye. “You ain’t broken, Birdie. That wasn’t the wolf takin’ over. That was you. The strongest damn woman I’ve ever known. And now the world knows it too.”

She swallowed hard. “I tracked them, Rocky. I smelled Emma. I ran. I didn’t even think. My body just knew.”

I nodded, cuppin’ her cheek. “That’s instinct. It’s part of the bond now. You felt me. You felt her. That’s real.”

Tears welled again. “But it was more than that. I saw her, in a shed, tied to a chair. I knew they wanted her blood. But we found her before the worst happened. It was if I saw the future.”

“That’s not exactly normal. But not unheard of.”

“What if I can’t go back to normal? What if I’m never…”

“You won’t be,” I said. “But you’ll be somethin’ more.”

She kissed me then, hard and desperate, like she needed to feel me to believe I was real. I kissed her back, pain forgotten, hand fisted in her hair.

When she pulled back, her eyes were glassy. “I thought I was scared of what I was becoming. But I think what scares me more is losing you.”

“You ain’t gonna lose me,” I promised. “I’m yours. Long as you’ll have me.”

Knox came in the next morning, lookin’ like he hadn’t slept either. He set a bag of clean clothes on the chair and passed me a file.

“Flint’s dead. TNT found him. He wasn’t human anymore. Necromancer got a hold of him, made him somethin’ else.”

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“You saved Emma. That’s what matters.”

I looked at Birdie, who hadn’t left my side. “She did most of the savin’.”

Knox looked at her, then back at me. “She yours now?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. She’s mine.”

Back at the clubhouse two days later, word had spread.

The traitor. The kidnap. The fight. Birdie.

They looked at her different now. Not like an outsider. Like one of us.

Eliza hugged her so tight I thought they might cry again. Emma gave her a flower she’d picked from the parking lot.

And the brothers? They nodded in quiet respect .

We were sittin’ by the fire that night, my stitches itchin’ and my arm around Birdie, when she leaned in and said softly, “I don’t know what’s gonna happen next.”

I pulled her close. “Don’t gotta know. We face it together.”

She turned to me, her lips brushing my ear. “I still feel you… even when you’re not near. It’s like you’re inside me no w.”

I groaned low, feelin’ the wolf stir.

“That’s the bond, sweetheart. And it only gets stronger.”

She smiled then, wicked and soft. “Good. ‘Cause I ain’t lettin’ you go.”

“Wouldn’t let you if you tried.”

The flames crackled, shadows dancin’ across the clubhouse walls, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like a man haunted.

I felt like a man claimed.