The words replayed in her head over and over. They had to be about her, but Wren couldn’t figure out why anyone would be tracking her. Her job wasn’t normally dangerous. Sure, she had faced her share of danger over the years, but nothing like this. This felt personal, and that scared the hell out of her.
“You’re pale.” Wren looked up sharply from where she sat at the long wooden table. Ghost dropped into the chair across from her, his lighter clicking softly in his hands as he lit another cigarette.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“Mm.” Smoke curled from his mouth. “You look like you’re about three seconds away from either puking or punching somebody.” Honestly, both sounded reasonable to her. The clubhouse buzzed with tension around them. Men moved in and out carrying weapons, radios, extra fuel, and maps. Nobody laughed anymore. Nobody drank. The easy atmosphere from yesterday was completely gone. War had changed them, and somehow she was in the middle of it.
“This is my fault,” she murmured before she could stop herself.
Ghost’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No.”
“They came here because of me,” she insisted.
“They came here because they’re stupid enough to think threatening the Kings is smart.” He leaned back in the chair, studying her carefully. “The difference matters.”
Wren rubbed her hands together, trying to warm fingers that suddenly felt numb again. “They know who I am.”
“Probably,” he said as though it wasn’t a big deal.
“How would they know me?” she asked.
Ghost shrugged one shoulder. “You rolled into northern territory waving government credentials around and asking questions about dead wolves.” His mouth twisted faintly. “Word travels fast up here.” A knot formed in her stomach. Had someone been watching her the entire time? Had they noticed her checkpoints or the motel she’d stayed in two nights ago?
Ghost must’ve read the fear on her face because his expression softened slightly. “Hey.” He waited until she met his eyes again. “You’re safe here.” The words should’ve comforted her; instead, they terrified her more because she believed him, and she was beginning to understand exactly what that protection might cost.
The clubhouse door slammed open suddenly, blasting icy wind through the room. Buck walked in, and every conversation stopped instantly. Wren’s breath caught as she looked him over. Snow clung to his shoulders and dark hair while blood streaked across the knuckles of one hand. Not his blood. His expression was carved from ice itself, hard and unreadable. He looked around the room once before his gaze landed directly on her, and everything inside her tightened.
Buck moved toward her immediately, ignoring everyone else completely. “You okay?” he asked.
The rough concern in his voice did something awful to her chest. “I’m fine.” His eyes narrowed slightly like he knew she was lying, and Wren wanted to crawl under the table to hide from him.
Ghost stood from the table. “Well, this feels personal, so I’m gonna disappear before Buck starts growling.” He clapped Buck once on the shoulder as he passed. “Try not to scare her off completely, brother.”
Buck ignored him. Wren watched Ghost disappear down the hallway before looking back at Buck. “What happened outside?”
“Nothing good,” Buck admitted.
“That’s not an answer,” she insisted.
His jaw flexed. “The truck was abandoned about two miles south,” he admitted finally. “No prints, and there was nothing useful. The trail is cold.”
“But the message was for me,” she said.
“It was for us,” he challenged.
“No.” Wren shook her head. “It specifically mentioned me.”
Buck stepped closer. “Listen carefully,” he said quietly. “The Vultures are trying to get inside your head. Fear makes people stupid.”
“And if I already feel stupid for even coming here, then what?” she asked. Something flickered across his face then. It wasn’t anger, but something rougher.
“You’re not stupid,” he growled.
Wren laughed weakly. “I drove into outlaw territory chasing poachers and somehow ended up trapped in the middle of a gang war.” She looked up at him. “Feels pretty stupid from where I’m sitting.”
Buck stared at her for a long moment before pulling out the chair beside her and sitting down heavily. “You know what the north does to people?” he asked suddenly. Wren blinked at the question, not sure how to answer him. “It isolates them,” he continued before she had a chance to answer. “Storms hit. Roads close. Supplies disappear. Law enforcement stops showing up unless bodies start piling too high.” His gaze drifted towardthe dark windows. “Out here, communities survive because somebody makes sure they do.”
“The Kings make sure that people are safe,” she whispered. Buck shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal, but she knew better. “You protect people,” she said quietly.
