Page 40 of Fear

Chapter 17

The Wolverines had gone to war before. They had spilled blood, taken lives, fought against enemies who thought they were untouchable. But this?

This was different, this wasn’t about turf, this wasn’t about rival MCs. This was about Sofia. And that meant there was no mercy. Goliath hadn’t slept. Hadn’t stopped moving. He was running on rage and desperation, his body a raw, coiled spring of tension.

His wolf was clawing at him, barely contained. Every second that passed without finding her felt like a blade twisting deeper into his chest. She was out there. Alone. Afraid. And he was failing her. The thought sent another surge of fury through him.

His fists curled, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. His muscles ached, his knuckles were bruised from slamming into trees, walls—anything that got in his way.

But he didn’t stop. Wouldn’t. Not until she was back in his arms.

The Wolverines had seen Goliath lose his temper before. They had seen him fight, destroy, kill. But this? This was different. This wasn’t just rage. This was pure, unfiltered agony. King was the first to step in.

“You’re no good to her like this.” His voice was firm, unyielding, cutting through the storm in Goliath’s head.

Goliath’s head snapped up, eyes wild, glowing faintly with the power barely restrained beneath his skin. “Then what the fuck do you expect me to do?”

“Not lose yourself.” King’s voice was steel. “She needs you, brother. Not a mindless fucking beast.”

The words hit home, but Goliath wasn’t ready to accept them. His entire body shook, his claws just barely restrained from tearing into something—someone. Hunter was next.

“We’re going to find her,” he said, his tone calm, controlled. But his eyes were hard. Unbreakable.

Dixon nodded. “We’re not stopping until we do.”

Gunner cracked his knuckles. “And when we do, whoever took her is fucking dead.”

Goliath gritted his teeth, breathing hard. The rage was still there. The pain. The suffocating desperation. But he wasn’t alone. His brothers were here. Standing with him. Hunting with him. And together, they would bring her home.

The Wolverines combed through every lead, every whisper of information.

They sent men into bars, clubs, underground fight pits—anywhere criminals might talk.

Goliath interrogated a man so viciously that King had to pull him off before he tore the bastard’s throat out.

Frost and Gunner had tracked the scent from the woods, following every faint trace, every disturbance in the earth.

But they kept hitting dead ends. And it was driving Goliath mad. He was barely holding himself together. Until Frost stepped in. Frost was never one to sugarcoat anything. So, when he spoke, his voice was cold, sharp, cutting through the madness.

“You need to stop thinking like a man.” Goliath snarled, turning on him. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Frost met his gaze, unshaken. “You’re hunting her like she’s just a missing person. She’s not.” He took a step closer, his presence like a glacier—unmovable, unrelenting. “She’s your mate. That bond means something.”

Goliath’s jaw clenched. “And?”

“And you’re not using it.”

Silence. The rest of the men watched, listening.

Frost continued. “You think she’s just out there waiting for us to find her?” His eyes darkened. “She’s thinking about you. She’s hurting. She’s calling out to you, even if she doesn’t know it.”

Goliath’s breath caught. Frost’s voice was low, steady, calculated. “Tap into that. Let your wolf lead.”

Goliath’s hands curled into fists. His wolf was already screaming inside him. But this? This was something else. Something deeper.

He closed his eyes. Breathed. And then—he felt it. A pull. Faint. But there. Sofia, his mate. A connection more powerful than anything he had ever felt before. His eyes snapped open.

“I’ve got her.” And just like that, the hunt truly began. The second the connection snapped into place; Goliath’s entire world shifted. It wasn’t just rage anymore. It wasn’t just the need to tear through every fucking enemy until he had her back. It was more. Something primal. Something undeniable. He could feel her. Not physically—she wasn’t in his arms yet.

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