“Sleep well?” Aspen asked as Grant joined him in the front room the following morning.
“I did. You?” Grant replied, wondering if it was just an idle comment or he knew something. He didn’t seem like he was pissed or ready to clean his clock, so eh could only assume it was a coincidence. Elizabeth strolled in, looking like she was ready for school. Her mother was behind her. Grant wanted to tell her good morning and kiss her on the cheek, but it was not a good idea at all.
“Let’s go,” her mother said impatiently, heading for the door with four bikers in tow.
Elizabeth cast a glance in Grant’s direction when no one seemed to be looking and winked at him. He smiled and turned away from her before anyone noticed him looking in her direction. He found himself face to face with Aspen scowling at him.
“Shall we get started then?”
“Yep.”
The rest of the day was spent in the private chambers of his Uncle, talking about strategy. Grant gave them the layout of the clubhouse belonging to the Dire Wolves, with all of its hidden rooms. While they did have secure bunkers there, they didn’t have the advantage of tunnels that gave them an escape route like the Silver Wolves did. They went over everything in minute detail until they felt they had a solid plan. It was far from ideal, but if everything went okay, they would have the upper hand despite the greater numbers of their enemy.
“Do you really think we can pull this off?” Aspen asked.
“I don’t know, but we will be in the best position possible to get it done. All I can say is that if we can’t, we’re doomed. If we can’t survive a fight with them while well prepared, then we will never be able to defeat them if attacked without warning.”
“We?” Aspen repeated.
“Well, it is “we” now, isn’t it? I can hardly go back there, even if I survive.”
“You won’t have to. Prove you’re loyal and you’ll be a Silver Wolf for life.”
“Talk about a trial by fire,” Grant laughed.
“We all gotta earn our stripes, son.”
“I suppose we do.”
“Just don’t fuck me over.”
“I know. Fuck you over and you’ll kill me yourself.”
“Worse, I’ll turn Elizabeth out on you.”
Grant looked at him, surprised. It was almost as if he might be warming up to him just a tiny bit, but it was a bit hard to tell from his expressionless face. He had not doubt that Aspen had heard more than a mouthful from her while she was mad at him and expressed her displeasure at her father allowing him to join the Silver Wolves, even if just as a ploy to get to the Dire Wolves plans.
He was even more taken aback when Aspen told him that she was waiting for him in the recreation room. Whatever conversation had past her anger must have settled her down, or she would not have turned up in his room last night, but having Aspen acknowledge that he could speak with her was puzzling. He hesitated for a moment, causing Aspen to prompt him further.
“Go on, get down there. I wouldn’t keep her waiting. The girl may look sweet, but she’s got a bite fiercer than any shifter in this house.”
“But she’s not a shifter, is she?” Grant observed.
“No. She’s worse. She’s a woman.”
Aspen walked off without another word, leaving him standing outside the doors to his Uncle’s quarters. Grant looked around, realizing he had no clue where the rec room was. He would have assumed it was the large room in the center of the clubhouse where everyone congregated, but no one was there, not even any of the club members. Something told him to be wary of the situation, but maybe he was just getting more paranoid. How people operated as double agents for years was beyond him. He was already going mad playing both sides. The end of this, no matter how it turned out, couldn’t come soon enough.
“Hey, dude. Can you tell me where the rec room is?” he asked a large biker walking past.
“My name ain’t Dude, you outcast bastard,” the guy replied, continuing on his way.
“Yo, thanks!” he yelled at him, turning toward an open hallway to see if he could find it on his own.
“Fuck you,” the guy called out without so much as a glance backwards.
“Yep, fuck me,” Grant muttered.
“It’s down that left hallway, all the way to the end.”
He turned to see Amanda standing there. Without her flowing overcoat, she was much more noticeable pregnant. He knew from the Dire Wolves women that it didn’t take long to spit out a child. That’s how they had grown their numbers so massively. Some of the guys there had wives, girlfriends and women that could only be referred to as side pieces.
Since Grant had taken up residence with them, he had kept to himself. He had no desire for a mate after everything that had happened to him before he had come here. There was no stability in his life to even offer someone anything long term and if he could, it could be taken away. As for the ones that were willing to just fuck him for sport, he had no interest in that. It wasn’t that he was prudish. There had been plenty of one-night stands and flings with women prior to his arrival in Rio Lobos. He just had no interest in hooking up with women who had to be drunk or high to get past their own self loathing to do so. That didn’t even begin to cover the diseases that might be spread through half the club.
“Amanda, I know you are angry with me and I’m sorry for misleading you. I truly am.”
“Aspen has explained your situation to me, so I’ll keep my opinions to myself. Just know that I have my eye on you, Grant. Don’t hurt my daughter or you’ll regret it.”
Grant stood blinking into the sun that filtered through a nearby window as she walked off. He shook his head and turned toward the hallway. All these threats were getting old. Then again, he might deserve them. He had to admit that if the tables were turned, he’d probably be much the same way about it. Pushing it out of his mind, he made his way down to the rec room to find Elizabeth flipping through her art book. She didn’t even wait for him to speak.
“Do you even know anything about art?”
“Just what I learned from the guy who loaned me his cabin and the research I did on it.”
“Even your cabin is fake?” she asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” he responded. There was no need to sugar coat the situation.
“Who are you?”
“You really want to know that?”
“Yes. I think that I should at least know who the man I have fallen in love truly is, instead to the web of lies he told me to get to my father’s club.”
“Fair enough. I will tell you what I can. Some, you simply don’t need to know. I came from a biker club on the east coast in South Carolina. They were decent shifters, all of them. The only thing they did wrong was cross the wrong pack. We had some wolves move in from somewhere out this way and they began causing trouble. Eventually, they took out my whole pack. The scars I have, I got them in the fight, but somehow I survived.”
“How?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. When I came to, I was in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed. My wounds had healed, but left the scars behind, which was unusual because shifter scars usually are so faint you can barely see them, if you can see them at all. My accelerated healing had kicked in and put me right, but all these marks remained visible. I was told I was under arrest for murdering the members of my club, my family. I was the only survivor and, other than the scars, I had no marks by the time the police arrived on the scene. They accused me of faking unconsciousness and making up a story about men attacking the place.”
“How did you get out of it?”
“I had friends in the department. Shifters from another clan that believed me and helped me escape. It is a small network of them that has helped me elude the authorities.”
“Oh my God, you’re a fugitive?”
“Yes, I’m a fugitive.”
“Could this get any worse?” Elizabeth breathed.
“Probably. I don’t know yet.”
“Wait. These shifters that murdered your family. Did they have a name?”
“Yes and no. They called themselves simply “Dawgs”.”
“Jesus. Come with me.”
Grant looked at her oddly as she crossed the room and opened the door, making her way down another hallway that led to private rooms. She knocked on a door and the same guy that had told him his name wasn’t Dude, opened it, his face bunching up in a scowl the moment he saw him behind Elizabeth.
“What the fuck’s he doing here?” he asked.
“Show him your chest,” she told him.
“What? Why?”
“Moose, just for once, don’t ask questions. Show him your chest.”
Moose grunted and unbuttoned the flannel shirt he was wearing to reveal a long jagged scar up the center of his chest. Grant looked at it in disbelief. It had the same thick raised edges as the ones he had on his own body.
“Happy?” Moose asked her, as he began buttoning up his shirt again.
“How did you get that scar?” Grant asked.
“Fighting like a wolf, instead of playing both sides of the fence like a bitch,” Moose responded.
“Moose, tell him.”
Moose grunted again and glared at Grant as he spoke. His words were terse, full of hatred toward him.
“I got it down by the falls. A Dire Wolf jumped me.”
“You got that scar off a Dire Wolf?” Moose asked in disbelief.
“Yes. Not just any Dire Wolf, but that son of a bitch they call Haskin.”
“I don’t understand. Haskin is blood kin to that clan. If he can do that, then . . . Oh, fuck. I have to talk to Aspen.”
“Let’s go,” Elizabeth said, nodding her head at Moose who shut the door angrily as they walked back down the hall toward the Lowery private quarters.
“What’s this about? You shouldn’t be bringing him back here, Elizabeth.”
“It’s not her fault. I asked her to. I have something I need to tell you.”
Grant sat down and told Aspen and Amanda the story of how he came to be on the run. It was a conversation they had spent a little time on before, but only to the extent of convincing Aspen that he was just a stray from a murdered clan back east.
“Did you not recognize them from the slaughter at your club?” Aspen asked when he was done.
“No. I never saw them. Prior to the attack, there were just rumors about them causing grief with other shifters in town. The night of the attack, it happened so quickly that I never saw their human forms beforehand and it was too dark to make out any particulars about their wolf forms. I got jumped from behind and never stood a chance against the wolf that took me down. It’s as if they have some sort of venom on their claws, something that makes their scratches more lethal.”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know. I just know that I instantly began feeling fuzzy headed, weak and went down like a stone.”
“Just like the wolves they took out when they attacked us.”
“And me. Even though it was just a scratch on my arm, I felt the same,” Elizabeth told them.
“Fuck. Outnumbered, at least still partially cursed and apparently some sort of ability to do excessive damage with minimal force. How are we ever going to beat these bastards?”
“I don’t know, but we better come up with a way to get it done. It puts a whole in our plan, so back to our drawing board tomorrow.”