Page 30 of Fear

“Necessary,” King corrected. “We keep the Serpents from reinforcing them. Cut off their escape. We don’t leave survivors.”

Goliath’s fists clenched. “And Grant?”

King’s eyes darkened. “He’s yours.”

Silence fell over the table. Then Mace chuckled. “Alright, boys. Looks like we got ourselves a war.”

As the meeting ended, the men spread out, preparing for battle. But the weight in their chests wasn’t just about the coming war. It was about who they were fighting for, who they were protecting.

Blue kept looking at his phone, jaw tight, fingers drumming against the screen. He knew he should put the damn thing away, but the urge to check, to send a message, to hear something from her, was gnawing at him.

Siena would tear him a new one if she found out they were moving without warning, and he wouldn’t blame her. Their relationship had never been quiet. It had never been easy. Siena was fire—hot-tempered, sharp-tongued, and stubborn as hell.She had never been the kind of woman to sit on the sidelines and let someone else fight for her. She had come into his life like a goddamn hurricane, wrecking everything he thought he knew about love and loyalty, and he had never stood a fucking chance.

Blue was used to handling shit on his own. Used to keeping his emotions locked down, used to keeping people at arm’s length. But Siena? She didn’t let him get away with that. She fought him, fought for him, and that scared him more than anything.

Because she saw through him, saw past the gruff exterior, past the leather and the scars. She saw him, and fuck, if that didn’t make him weak. Weak for her.

And now? She was miles away. And he was about to walk into a fight without telling her. She was going to murder him.

Blue sighed heavily, rolling his shoulders back. He had to trust that she was safe, but it didn’t stop the growl of frustration in his chest, the need to hear her voice, to feel her near. His wolf wasn’t handling the distance well, neither was he.

He turned his phone over in his hands once more before shoving it into his pocket. Later. He’d deal with the fallout later. Right now, he had a war to win.

Fang was uncharacteristically quiet, his broad shoulders tense as he sat near the edge of the room, eyes narrowed, gaze unfocused. His wolf was restless, agitated, pacing beneath his skin. He could feel it scratching at his insides, growling for something, for someone. For his mate.

Mystique. The woman who had somehow become his entire world.

His fingers flexed against the wooden table, his claws itching to extend, to shift, to run to her, but she was miles away. Safe. At least, that’s what he had to tell himself.

Fang had always been the controlled one. He wasn’t the type to let his emotions get the best of him. But Mystique had changed that. She was his mate, his woman, and one day she would be the mother of his children. Being away from her? It felt like his soul was being stretched too thin, like a rubber band ready to snap.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. He was scared shitless that one day it could be taken away.

Blue swallowed hard, trying to push the thought away. He had to trust that she was safe, that the men they had left behind were protecting her, but it didn’t stop the growl in his throat, didn’t stop the overwhelming need to be at her side.

He had fought battles before, he had killed before, but this? Being away from her, knowing she needed him, knowing he couldn’t be there? This was always the hardest fucking battle of his life.

And when this war was over, when the Shadow Riders were nothing but ashes and bloodstains? He was going to hold her, bury himself in her scent, and never fucking let go.

Hunter gripped his gun too tightly, his knuckles white, the metal biting into his palm. He knew he needed to loosen his hold, knew that tension in his body wasn’t doing him any favours, but he couldn’t shake the feeling gnawing at his gut.

Dakota. Her face haunted him, the way her blue eyes had burned into his when he’d told her he was leaving. She hadn’t cried, hadn’t begged him to stay—she wasn’t the type, but the look she had given him? That look had fucking wrecked him. It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t sadness. It was a quiet kind of fury, a barely restrained storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Dakota was a fighter, his fighter. She didn’t sit back and let things happen—she got up, she made shit move, she took charge. She wasn’t wired to be left behind, and yet, he had left her. Forher safety, and for his own goddamn sanity, but that didn’t make it easier.

His wolf hated this, hated being away from her. It clawed at his insides, snarling, demanding that he drop everything and go back to her. To protect her. To hold her, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

Hunter exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders back. He couldn’t afford to lose focus, not when they were about to go to war. But the war inside of him, that was a different battle entirely, because no matter how much blood he spilled, no matter how many enemies he put in the ground, there would be no victory until he was back at her side, and God help anyone who tried to keep him away.

And then there was Goliath.

He sat at the bar, staring at his untouched drink, jaw tight. He had spoken to Sofia, heard her voice, but it wasn’t enough. His wolf needed her, and yet, she was miles away, locked in that safehouse while he was here, preparing to kill for her. The thought had his blood burning.

“You good?” King’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Goliath exhaled through his nose. “No.”

King smirked. “None of us are.”

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