Page 8 of Moonlight & Mayhem

"Moon,” he warned.

"You heard my Prez,” she insisted.

"And you're hearing the Silverfang VP,” he shouted. “Move out of my way!”

"I don't give a damn what patch you wear while you're on my table; I’m in charge.” His eyebrows rose, and another gunshot echoed outside.

Mayhem's expression hardened. "Those are my people too." Moon understood what he was saying because she felt the same anguish. God help her; she did. She would tear herself apart to reach one of her sisters. So, she made a decision she knew Tempest was going to hate.

"Can you shift?" she asked.

Mayhem blinked at her. "What?"

"Can you still shift?" she asked.

His wolf surged behind his eyes, and he nodded. "I think so."

"Then we're going to find out." Moon pulled the IV from his arm.

Mayhem stared at her. "I thought I wasn't allowed off the table."

"You weren't,” she said.

“Why the change of heart, then?" he asked. Moon grabbed her leather kutte from the hook beside the door and slipped it over her shoulders. The Dark Chaos patch settled against her back, and her wolf rose—silver-white and furious. She was always ready for a fight.

Moon looked at Mayhem. "Because someone is stupid enough to attack my clubhouse."

A slow, savage grin spread across his face. "There she is,” he said.

Moon frowned. "Who?"

"My mate,” he growled.

Her heart stumbled. "We are discussing that later."

"Looking forward to it,” he said. Moon opened the clinic door, and chaos thundered through the clubhouse. Outside, wolves howled, and for once, Moon didn't retreat to the safety of her clinic. Instead, she stepped directly into the storm with Mayhem at her side.

Mayhem

Mayhem should have been flat on his back. Moon had made that point painfully clear—repeatedly. He had silver still working its way out of his system, some kind of fucking poison crawling through his blood, stitches holding his side together, and enough blood loss to put a human in the ground. None of that mattered the second he heard gunfire outside the Dark Chaos clubhouse. His club was out there, along with hers, and Moon had just ripped the IV out of his arm and looked at him like she was ready to fight God himself if he came through the front door.

His wolf damn near purred. Mate. “Stop saying that,” Mayhem muttered.

Moon shot him a look as they moved down the hallway. “Saying what?” she asked.

“Not you,” he grumbled.

Her silver-white wolf scent sharpened. “You’re arguing with your wolf right now?”

“He’s annoying the fuck out of me,” Mayhem admitted.

“Wonder where he gets that from,” she teased. Mayhem grinned despite the pain tearing through his side. The quiet doctor with winter-colored eyes and a mouth that could cut a man apart when she remembered she had one stood next to him, reminding him of who she was.

Another shot cracked outside, and Mayhem’s smile disappeared. “Stay behind me.” Moon stopped walking. Mayhem made it three more steps before realizing she wasn’t beside him, and he turned. She stood in the middle of the hallway with her arms crossed. “What?” he demanded.

Moon stared at him. “You can barely walk.”

“I’m walking just fine, honey,” he insisted.