Page 13 of Wolf at the Door

The tension in my chest eases slightly, and I offer a small smile. This world was new and strange, I wondered if I could belong here. Maybe, just maybe, I’d found a place to call home.

Chapter 8

The first sign of trouble came just after dawn. Cutter’s sharp knock at my door dragged me out of a restless sleep. Bella stirred beside me, her head resting on my chest, her warmth grounding me in ways I hadn’t expected. For a moment, I debated ignoring the knock, letting the world wait. But Cutter didn’t knock twice unless it was urgent.

“Wolf,” he calls through the door, his tone tight. “We’ve got a problem.”

I carefully slide out from under Bella, tucking the blanket around her before grabbing my jeans and tugging them on. Her eyelids flutter open, her voice soft and drowsy.

“What is it?”

“Stay here,” I order, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll handle it.”

Her brows knitted, worry creeping into her expression, but she nods, trusting me. That trust feels like a weight and a privilege all at once, and I’m not about to let anything jeopardize it.

In the main room, Cutter is pacing, his leather kutt flaring behind him like a shadow. Ironhead and a couple of the prospects are standing by the bar, their faces grim. Cutter doesn’t waste time.

“It’s Dylan,” he said, his voice clipped. “He’s not playing games anymore. Sent two of his goons to your girl’s gran’s place. They smashed up the porch, left her a message.”

My chest tightens, fury flaring hot and fast. Dylan had gone too far before, but this? Threatening Bella’s gran—her family? That was the line. My wolf stirs beneath the surface, claws scratching at my control.

“What message?” I growl.

Jerome hands me a crumpled piece of paper, the edges torn as if it had been ripped from a notebook. The scrawl was jagged, messy, but the meaning was clear:

“She’s mine. Bring her to me, or she won’t be the only one who pays.”

The paper crumples in my fist, my jaw tightening until I think my teeth might crack. I look at Jerome, my voice low and deadly. “Is she okay?”

“Shaken, but not hurt, I didn’t let them touch her.” Jerome relates.

“Finn’s there now, keeping an eye on her. But we’ve got to deal with this, Wolf. Dylan’s not going to stop until you put him down,” Cutter says.

I nod, my mind already racing. This wasn’t just about me and Bella anymore. Dylan had made it club business the moment he dragged innocent people into it. The pack wouldn’t stand for that.

I make my way back to the room to check on Bella, my steps heavier than before. When I open the door, she is sitting up, her eyes wide with worry. She’d thrown on one of my shirts, the fabric hanging loose on her small frame. The sight of her like that—in my space, wearing my clothes—lights something protective and primal inside me.

“What happened?” she asks.

I sit on the edge of the bed, taking her hands in mine. “It’s Dylan. He sent a couple of his guys to your gran’s place. She’s fine,” I add quickly when her face pales. “But he’s pushing for a fight, and he’s not going to stop until I deal with him.”

Her hands tighten around mine. “I need to see her. She’ll be scared.”

“I’ll take you there,” I assure, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. “But first, I need you to understand something. This isn’t just about us anymore. Dylan’s crossed a line, and when someone crosses the pack, we deal with it. He’s not going to get another chance to hurt you or anyone you care about.”

She nods, her eyes fierce despite the fear I know she feels. “Okay.”

“Get ready, we leave in twenty.” I order as I stand and lean down to kiss her forehead before leaving to gather the men.

By the time we pulled up to Bella’s gran’s house, Finn is already waiting on the porch, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. The old wooden steps are splintered, the railing hanging loose whereDylan’s men had smashed it. Bella jumps off the bike before I even cut the engine, rushing up to her gran, who is sitting in a rocking chair by the front door.

“Gran!” Bella calls, dropping to her knees beside her. “Are you okay?”

Gran smiles weakly, patting Bella’s cheek. “I’m fine, dear. Just a little shaken. That boy…he’s got a mean streak, doesn’t he?”

I step up onto the porch, towering over them both. “He won’t bother you again,” I say, my voice steady. “That’s a promise.”

Gran looks up at me, her sharp eyes narrowing. “You’re the one Bella told me about,” she says. “Wolf.”

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