Page 34 of Wolf's Whisper

I slap my hand against the handlebars, frustration bubbling up in my chest. "Damn it," I hiss, scanning the street ahead for an opening. My heart races, pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. Tank and the kids are ahead—vulnerable—and now there's another sedan closing in on them.

I tap my communicator again, hoping Tank picks up fast. The line crackles before his voice comes through, gruff and irritated. “What now?”

“There’s a second car,” I say quickly, weaving around a pothole as the sedan behind me sticks to my tail like glue. “It broke off and it’s heading your way. This one’s just here to keep me busy.”

There’s a beat of silence where I can practically hear Tank processing the situation. Then: “Son of a—okay, okay. I’ll handle it. You focus on staying alive back there.”

“Tank,” I growl, the panic creeping into my voice despite my effort to stay calm. “You’ve got three kids with you. You can’t exactly go full Rambo.”

“I know what I’m doing, Wolf,” he snaps back, but his tone softens after a beat. “I’ll keep them safe. Just... don’t get yourself killed playing hero.”

I grit my teeth, watching the sedan in my mirrors as it inches closer. “No promises,” I mutter, cutting the line before I canoverthink it. Tank’s got the kids, and he’s no amateur, but that doesn’t stop the gnawing worry from clawing at my chest.

The sedan behind me makes a bold move, swerving closer like it’s trying to nudge me off the road. I jerk the handlebars to the side just in time, narrowly avoiding its attempt. My heart leaps into my throat, but I force myself to focus. This isn’t my first dance with road games.

“All right, you wanna play?” I growl under my breath.

I spot an upcoming alleyway—narrow enough that the sedan won’t be able to follow without some serious scraping. It’s a gamble, but I’m willing to take it. Tightening my grip on the handlebars, I angle toward it and gun the throttle.

The Harley roars to life, the engine growling like a caged beast as I shoot toward the alley. The sedan hesitates for a split second before trying to follow, but the narrow entrance proves too much for its bulky frame. I hear the crunch of metal on brick and glance back to see the car scrape against the wall, sparks flying. Serves them right.

“Not today,” I mutter, speeding down the alley with my heart still thundering in my chest. The walls close in around me, and for a moment, it feels like I can’t breathe—like the fire is back, licking at my skin, burning through my memories. But I shove it down. Focus. Not now.

Chapter Fifteen

Janelle

Tank is on the phone with Wolf and the atmosphere has changed in the car. The kids are chattering in the backseat, their voices are a mix of excitement and sibling bickering, but Tank’s sharp tone silences them. Abel, ever the observanttwelve-year-old, frowns and lean forward slightly. “Is everything okay?” he asks, his voice tentative.

Tank glances at him through the rearview mirror, his jaw tight. “Yeah, kiddo. Everything’s fine.” He doesn’t sound convincing, even to me.

I turn in my seat to look at the boys and Chloe, who clutches her stuffed bunny like a lifeline. Her big eyes lock onto mine, silently asking a thousand questions I can’t answer. My stomach twists in knots.

“Tank,” I say quietly, keeping my voice steady for their sake. “What’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his attention glued to the road ahead. His hands tighten around the steering wheel as he mutters something under his breath that sound suspiciously like a string of curses. Finally, he sighs and glances at me, his eyes flicking between the road and my face.

"There's another car," he tells me, his voice low but urgent. "Might be trouble. It could be nothing but it’s better to safe than sorry. Wolf thinks it’s heading our way."

My breath catches, panic threatening to rise. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

“The bad kind,” he’s not sugarcoating it. “Could be your ex’s guys. Could be someone else. I don’t know yet.” His jaw tightens again, and he adds, “But I promised Wolf I’d keep you and the kids safe. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay calm for the kids’ sake. Abel is still staring at Tank, his brows furrowed in that way that reminded me too much of his father—minus the malice. Dillon looked confused but didn’t say anything, and Chloe clutching her bunny so tightly I worry its ears might pop off. I reach back and gently place a hand on her knee, giving her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” I murmur.

Tank’s eyes flick to me again, and he jerks his head in the direction of the backseat, “Keep them calm.” The car feels too small, the air too thick with unspoken fears. My hands itch for something to do, something to hold onto other than the rising terror curling in my chest.

“Why would someone be following us?” Abel’s voice breaks the tense silence. He sounds older than his twelve years, like he’s already figured out it isn’t good but needs to hear someone else confirm it.

Tank doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a sharp turn onto a smaller road, making Chloe squeal and clutch at her bunny even tighter. I look back and see the car behind us and catching up. I twist back around, my heart hammering in my chest. "Tank," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "They're right behind us."

Tank grunts, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. "I see 'em."

Abel leans forward again. "Is it...is it bad guys? Like in the movies?"

"Abel, sit back," my voice firm but not harsh. The last thing I need was for one of the kids to get hurt because they weren’t buckled in properly.

"But Mom—"

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