He sat back in his chair, hands on his thighs, gaze unwavering as he studied my face—and listened to every thought shifting in my goddamn head since I didn’t have the ability to shield against his probing. “Okay.”
Teeth clenched, I nodded my thanks at his agreeing, his understanding the instincts and needs prompting my thoughts.
“Let’s go.” He stood and started toward the door. “Let’s get to Church, get the final details nailed down—we ride at midnight. The Lycaon’s party will be like sitting ducks in their hovel of a club.”
Under darkness of night and the ruckus of a typical wolf shifter get-shit-faced party, we would slip in and wipe them out before they even knew what hit them. Seeing as how there were only twelve of the mangy bastards, mere wolf outcasts intent on taking our territory in the hopes of building their own empire, the night’s festivities would be a pure pleasure. Long in coming, too, just like Wraith had stated.
They were the bottom of the barrel sludge that not even the sleaziest of skanks wanted to hang with, so the chance of innocent lives getting caught between fangs and canines was close to none.
We had three sets of eyes on their fenced-in, off-grid acreage, those brothers assigned to follow if any of the wolf shifters decided to leave before the appointed take-down time.
Wiping out the Lycaons meant eradicating their kind from eastern Texas for good—every last fucking one. Ending their little club once and for all with no trace, no evidence pointing in our direction, and no chance of evil spawn rising up to take their place as our arch enemies in the next decade or so sounded downright fun.
Grim faces set in stone on the officers at the round table. Behind closed doors, we agreed upon the final plans, agreed on the patched members assigned to each man’s charge.
I would approach first as I’d originally suggested, in cat form, invisible even though the waxing moon would allow for even the deepest shadows to reveal what lurked within to most animals’ sight. I would need to draw on all my strength to stick to the plan of getting the gate to remain open for my brothers before heading off together to rip into Lycaon throats.
Having Ashlyn there would make it a thousand times easier to keep a peaceful mind, but I couldn’t take that chance.
If I couldn’t control my beast after the first taste of wolf blood, at least I would have the satisfaction of taking down as many of the cock-sucking Lycaons before they swarmed and managed to take me down. If they could even take me down before my brothers arrived on my heels.
It would be one hell of a fight, though.
My skin itched to sprout fur. My gums thrummed with desire to elongate my fangs. My fingers burned with need to knife claws from their tips.
Yes.
I climbed into one of the non-descript vans the club had acquired for the evening—unlawfully, of course—and caught Ashlyn’s gaze through the passenger window as she stood in the club’s entrance.
One of the senior old ladies along with Slash’s mate, Molly, flanked her, Angel and Shyla at her back. Both women had decided they would stay behind with her, easing my conscience, easing my anxiety. Stonewall had grumbled about Angel not having his back, but she’d laughed him off, promising he’d be just fine without her, rambling on about his big, bad ass until Wraith growled, shutting her up.
Confidence oozed from all my brothers. We’d made a good plan, had pulled in over ninety percent of the patched members to settle the score once and for all. Not a single Lycaon had left the compound in the previous hour, but our three brothers keeping an eye on their gate from a distance had called with information that a handful of other mangy mutts arrived, to party.
The wolf shifters would outnumber us by a few, but it was too late to do anything about it. We would be there within a matter of minutes.
It was show time.
181
Ashlyn
I really had every intention of stating my case, but while the officers met at Church and the other patched members hung out playing pool and slugging back a few beers while waiting to rock and roll, Shyla, Molly, Angel, and I, the newest old ladies in the club, conspired using Google Earth to help our cause.
Like Bryce had said, Molly was a sweetheart, and immediately made me feel like part of the family same as the others had. She’d also been a glasses-wearer until bonding with Slash, yet another reason to feel like I’d found a sister.
What we planned would earn us punishment—of that I had no doubt. While Bryce hadn’t ever taken his palm to my backside, I wouldn’t put it past him for what I would do.
Shyla’s eyes glowed at the idea, and Angel said she’d like to see Wraith try. Molly just smiled.
Yeah. They were in.
The second the vans disappeared from sight, Angel told the senior old ladies with us that she’d changed her mind about wanting to stay back while the men fought for us. As the president’s mate, she headed toward the club’s door with little argument from those wishing to stay.
“Your funeral,” one had muttered.
Shyla, Molly, and I followed Angel. They knew I hadn’t yet shifted. Knew I would be going in human form, putting not just Bryce, but their men in danger as well.
Angel paused, hand on the door handle, and turned toward the other women. “Make a call to let them know, and your asses are mine.”
No one breathed a word, and seconds later, I hopped into the back of Angel’s
