Page 5 of Wolf at the Door

“What’s going on, Wolf?” Ironhead rumbled, his deep voice carrying across the room. “Razor said you brought a girl here. That true?”

I nod, grabbing a chair and taking a seat. “It’s true,” I reply, keeping my tone even. “Had a run-in with some prick who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Girl’s name is Bella—ex-boyfriend, Dylan, was giving her trouble. Figured it was better to bring her here than leave her out there alone.”

Rocco leans against the bar, his arms crossed over his chest. “You sure you’re not getting us mixed up in some personal shit?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “You know how it goes when we start taking in outsiders. First, it’s a girl who needs help, then it’s her whole goddamn family, and before you know it, we’re knee-deep in drama that has nothing to do with us.”

I shoot him a look, my jaw tightening. “It’s not like that,” I say, my voice steady. “This guy’s trouble, and if he starts coming around, it could be our problem whether we like it or not. Better to be prepared than caught off guard.”

Ironhead grunted, his gaze shifting to Rocco before landing back on me. “Well, if you say so, Wolf. But don’t expect the brothers to babysit. We’ve got enough shit going on with the Steel Vipers sniffing around our turf. Last thing we need is distractions.”

I clenched my fist, feeling irritation flicker under my skin. “I’m not asking anyone to babysit,” I growl, my voice low and steady. “But if Dylan makes a move against one of ours—whether she’s patched or not—I’m going to deal with him. I just want to make sure we know what we’re up against. That’s why I’ve got Jerome keeping an eye on her gran’s place.”

Rocco sighs, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Fine,” he said, his tone softening. “Just be careful with this, alright? We all know what can happen when emotions start getting in the way.”

Emotions. The word almost made me laugh. Like I was some green kid, too wrapped up in a girl to think straight. No, this wasn’t about emotions. This was about handling a problem before it got bigger than it needed to be. I was the club’s enforcer—the guy who made sure fires didn’t spread and that no one fucked with us. If keeping Bella safe meant putting Dylan six feet under, then so be it.

“Don’t worry about me,” I state, my gaze sweeping across the room. “You know I don’t lose focus.”

Ironhead nodded, his approval clear. “Good. Because if this guy does turn out to be more than just some jealous ex, we’ll need to deal with him fast. And if he’s got ties to the Vipers or any other rival crew, we’re going to need to know about it sooner rather than later.”

I gave him a sharp nod. He was right. The Steel Vipers had been sniffing around our turf for months, looking for weaknesses to exploit. If Dylan had any connection to them, we’d have to act quickly. The last thing I wanted was for this to turn into another full-blown war.

“Alright,” I reply, pushing myself to my feet. “I’ll get the guys to start digging into Dylan’s background. If there’s anything we can use to keep him in check, we’ll find it.”

As I left the room, a heavy weight settled in my chest. The brothers weren’t wrong to be cautious. Bringing Bella into the clubhouse wasn’t a move I’d made lightly, and I knew the risks. If Dylan turned out to be more trouble than I’d anticipated, it wouldn’t just be my problem anymore—it would be the club’s.

But that didn’t mean I was going to turn my back. I’d seen the way Bella looked when Dylan cornered her, the fear she tried to mask with defiance. I couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t walk away and pretend it wasn’t my concern. Not now.

The Road Killers weren’t just some ragtag group of bikers who decided to slap patches on their backs and call it a brotherhood. This was a family—a chain of command that ran deep and demanded loyalty from the moment you stepped through the door. Razor, our president, was the glue that held it all together. He didn’t just make the calls; he commanded respect. When Razor spoke, you listened. Cutter, our VP, was the balance to Razor’s authority—the guy who could mediate a fight or throw a punch, depending on what the situation called for.

I’m the enforcer’s enforcer. If someone stepped out of line, I’m the one who handles it, and I do so with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Then there is Rocco, the treasurer. His job is to keep the club’s finances clean—or as clean as they could be for a one-percenter club—and make sure we aren’t drawing too much heat from the law.

The patched members made up the backbone of the club, each one of them having earned their place over years of loyalty and sacrifice. Beneath them were the prospects—guys like Jerome and Finn, still proving they had what it took to patch in. Being a prospect wasn’t glamorous. It meant taking orders, doing grunt work, and showing you could keep your head when shit hit the fan. It was a rite of passage, and no one made it through without earning every inch of their place.

The rules were simple. The club came first. Always. No exceptions. If a brother’s personal life started to bleed intoclub business, it was handled quickly and decisively. That’s why Rocco and Ironhead’s hesitation about Bella made sense—they weren’t wrong to be cautious. But I also knew that if Dylan pushed, it wouldn’t be just my problem for long.

I head down the hallway toward the office, where we keep files and records on anyone who’d ever crossed us. It was time to start digging. If there was dirt on Dylan, I was going to find it. And if that prick thought he could mess with a woman under the Road Killers’ protection—whether Bella realized it or not—he was about to learn why people didn’t fuck with us.

Chapter 5

The heavy door of the room clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the plain walls and the worn bed in front of me. It wasn’t much, but it felt safer than anything had in months. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d gotten myself into.

This was the kind of place my mom had warned me about when I was little—a den of wolves, she would have said. She’d always had a thing for fairy tales, twisting their morals into lessons to keep me in line. Don’t wander off the path. Don’t trust strangers. And, most importantly, stay away from wolves. But here I was, not just straying from the path, but walking right into the heart of the forest, with the biggest, baddest wolf I’d ever met.

I didn’t even know his real name. Wolf—that’s all he’d told me, like it was part of his DNA, something as fundamental as the colour of his eyes or the ink on his skin. And it suited him. Everything about him screamed danger, from the way he carried himself to the way he’d taken Dylan down without breaking a sweat. But as much as he scared me, he’d also protected me. He didn’t have to step in, didn’t have to drag me into his world. Yet, he had.

I sank down onto the edge of the bed, running my fingers over the worn quilt. My heart was still racing from everything that had happened. Dylan showing up, Wolf’s intervention, the ride here—it all felt like a blur, like I’d stepped into a story I didn’t belong in. And maybe I didn’t. But there was something aboutWolf that felt different, even if I couldn’t quite put my finger on it yet.

I pulled my red jacket tighter around me, the fabric soft and familiar against my skin. It had been my favourite for years, a gift from Gran when I was still in high school. She’d called it my armour, bright and bold, a way to face the world without fear. I’d believed her back then, but now? Now I wasn’t sure a piece of clothing could keep me safe from someone like Dylan—or the world Wolf lived in.

A knock on the door startles me, pulling me out of my thoughts. For a second, I thought it might be Wolf, but when the door didn’t open, I realized whoever it was had the decency to wait for an answer.

“Come in,” I call, my voice steadier than I felt.

The door opened, and a young guy stepped in. He couldn’t have been much older than me, with a mop of blond hair and a nervous energy that didn’t match the rugged vibe of the place. He had the look of someone trying to prove himself, his leather vest clean and unadorned except for the word Prospect stitched on the front.

“Uh, hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wolf sent me to check in. Said you might need something.”

I shake my head, offering a small smile. “I’m fine. Just…trying to process everything.”

---