Page 53 of Heron's Flame

I shut my eyes and drifted asleep, content that I had my woman, my club, and almost everything I could ever need.

At some point in the night, I awakened to an eerie feeling. I couldn’t place what had waken me, but I knew I had to get up. Tossing a blanket over Rebel and tucking her in, I slid from the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. I found my shirt and cut, getting dressed as silently as possible.

An uncontrollable urge to protect her rose within me, followed by the need to check our bedroom door. I almost panicked. Did Hammerhead or one of our enemies infiltrate The Roost? No fucking way.

Annoyed and slightly apprehensive, I rushed to the door and flung it open. No enemy stood in the hall. No threat.

Just Carrion with a crow perched on his shoulder. “Come with me.”

Fuck. His cryptic shit pissed me off sometimes. I wasn’t the only one. It was like he couldn’t ever approach anyone in a normal way. Always slinking around in the shadows. Talking to the fucking crows. Okay, we all did that. Still, he was an odd motherfucker.

“This better be important,” I muttered as I locked the door and followed him down the hall. We exited the clubhouse and walked to the shaded area where the club kept the picnic tables and chairs. Brothers came out here to smoke, and their families gathered in this area. An awning kept the sun’s rays from burning everyone up, but it didn’t matter when only the moon rose above us.

“What is it, Carrion?”

“It’s gonna sound cryptic.”

Yeah, I gathered that. “Wouldn’t be anything new.”

He smirked. “True.”

“Well, tell me.”

“You gotta let her go,” he began.

I held up a hand. “Rebel?”

He nodded.

“Fuck no.” Easy answer.

“I didn’t say how long,” he replied.

“Don’t care.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and the crow cawed. “You and fucking Cuckoo. So goddamn stubborn. Well, Crow, too.”

I shrugged. “So?”

His features twisted into a snarl, and I swear I saw a beak protruding from his face briefly, followed by a dark shadow. “You’ll lose her if you don’t listen to me.”

Fuck. This. “I’m not going to lose my ol’ lady.”

“Arguing doesn’t change facts.”

“Fuck you, Carrion.”

He shook his head. “Fucking listen to me. Let her go. It’ll take,” he paused and closed his eyes. When they opened, they appeared white.

The fuck?

He groaned and teetered on his feet before he seemed to snap out of it. “Three days, fifteen hours, twelve minutes, and eight seconds.”

My hands curled into fists. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“She’ll be gone three days, fifteen hours—”

“I won’t allow it,” I snarled.

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