Page 41 of Fear

But there was something deep in his chest, in his blood, pulling him in a direction. Sofia. His mate. She was still out there. She was alive. And she was calling to him.

His wolf howled inside him, clawing at his insides. Move. Now. Goliath’s eyes snapped open, glowing faintly in the dim moonlight. His body went still.

Then he turned, locking onto the others. “I can sense her.”

Frost gave a slow nod. “Then let’s go.”

King didn’t ask how Goliath knew, didn’t question it, because he trusted him. And so did the rest of the men.

“Mount up, we ride now.” King’s voice was sharp, decisive. The clubhouse erupted into action. Engines roared to life. Weapons were checked; magazines loaded. There were no doubts, no hesitation. Sofia was one of them, and no one fucking took a Wolverine’s mate and lived to tell the story.

Dixon swung onto his bike, rolling his shoulders. “Goliath, you lead. We follow.”

Hunter revved his engine. “And when we find these bastards?”

Fang grinned; teeth bared. “We make them regret ever breathing.”

King pulled up beside Goliath, his voice low. “We’ll get her back.”

Goliath didn’t answer. Didn’t speak because words didn’t fucking matter right now. Only action. Only blood. Only her. He twisted the throttle, the howl of his engine tearing through the night.

And with that, they rode. The Wolverines weren’t just hunting, they were coming for war, and when they found the bastards who had taken Sofia? They wouldn’t stop until every single one of them was dead.

Chapter 18

The moment the connection snapped into place; Goliath became a predator on the scent. Everything else disappeared.

The clubhouse, the roaring bikes, the worried faces of his brothers—none of it mattered. Because he could feel her. Faint. Like a whisper on the wind. His mate. Sofia.

She was out there. Alive. Afraid. And he was going to find her. No matter how much blood he had to spill.

“Goliath.”

King’s voice was steady, sharp, cutting through the pounding in his skull. “Talk to me. Where is she?”

Goliath closed his eyes, breathing deep, focusing.

The bond wasn’t clear, wasn’t solid—it was like a rope frayed at the edges, barely holding. But it was there, a tug in his chest. South. Not far. Not far enough to stop him from ripping every fucking thing apart.

His voice came out low, guttural. “South. Maybe twenty, twenty-five miles.”

Frost was already pulling out a map, laying it across the table. “That narrows it. Shadow Riders don’t have a property that far out.”

King exhaled sharply, fingers tapping against the wood. “Then who the fuck does?” Silence.

Then—Dash stiffened. His eyes darkened as he looked up.

“Rodes.”

The word hit the room like a gunshot. Goliath’s head snapped toward him, confusion sharpening into something colder. “Who the fuck is Rodes?” Dash hesitated. A beat too long.

Goliath’s voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. “Talk.”

Dash cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jason Rodes. He’s Sofia’s boss. Owns a couple of clubs, some legit businesses on paper, but everyone knows he’s into deeper shit. Guns. Laundering. Bribes. She’s been doing his books for years.”

Goliath’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. “Why haven’t I heard his name before?”

Dash’s expression shifted—uneasy now. “She never brought him up. I figured maybe it was just some quiet employer thing. I didn’t push it.”

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