Chapter 6
Arsenal
The walk from the parking lot to Bronc’s office was thirty-six yards, and I felt every inch.
The clubhouse was quiet—too early for the regulars, too late for anyone coming down off a bender.
Just the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the soft tick of the hallway clock, and Wrecker’s boots hitting the tile behind me in sync.
I opened Bronc’s door and let it swing wide, standing at the threshold until he looked up.
I’d learned never to enter a man’s office until invited, especially when his face looked like a heatmap about to go white hot.
He had both fists on the desk, knuckles flat and white as chalk. The veins in his arms looked ready to blow.
“Sit,” he said.
We sat.
Wrecker took the left-hand seat, slouched low and casual. I stayed upright, elbows on knees, hands steepled. Parade rest, the way I’d been taught.
Bronc stood. He circled his chair like a caged dog, then planted his hands again and glared at both of us. His voice was low, but it had the resonance of a shotgun behind it.
“I got a question,” he started, slow and deliberate. “At what point did y’all decide that the chain of command in this club was, what, a fuckin’ suggestion?”
He fixed Wrecker first, then me. I didn’t blink.
“You go off the grid in Houston,” he went on.
“You sniff around a rival’s territory. You insert yourself into whatever backroom clusterfuck Steiner’s got running.
And the best part? You do it without so much as a phone call to your goddamn Alpha.
” He slammed his palm on the desk. “Are you both fucking brain-dead?”
Wrecker grinned, half-hearted. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission, boss.”
Bronc ignored him and turned the full force of his stare on me. “Regan. You’re supposed to be the stable one. The rules guy. Now I got Doc and Juliet blowing up my phone at four a.m. saying you’re in the wind with my VP.”
“Had to move fast,” I said. “Didn’t want to tip anyone.”
Bronc exhaled, slow. “You didn’t want to tip anyone. You didn’t want to tip me. You understand how that sounds?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He looked like he wanted to launch the nearest office chair through the window, but he kept his hands flat. “What the hell could possibly justify this?”
I glanced at Wrecker. He gave a subtle nod; the go-ahead. So I said it:
“Harper is my fated mate.”
The silence was absolute. The hum from the fridge seemed to die. Even Wrecker, who knew, looked away.
Bronc just stared. No visible reaction for five full seconds. Then he sank into his chair and pressed his hands to his face. When he spoke again, the anger had gone flat and heavy.
“Of course she fucking is. Why wouldn’t she be?
Why the hell can’t a female wolf in the state of Texas ever meet her mate like a normal goddamn person, huh?
” He spread his hands, like we were all at a backyard barbecue and this was just a funny story about fate screwing him.
“No, they gotta fuck it up. Get trafficked, or dealt some other kind of shit hand, get locked up by a psycho. Then they always land here. With Iron Valor. With me.”
“I thought she had rejected me five years ago.”
He pointed a finger at me. “You waited five years to tell me you had a fated mate? Guess that explains why you’re such a fucking asshole to everyone who finds happiness with a woman.”
I shook my head. “Well, fuck, Bronc. I didn’t know she hadn’t actually rejected me. Not until I talked to her.”
His eyes went sharp. “You saw her in the club?”
I nodded. “She’s at Eyrie. She’s working the main floor and the VIPs. She’s not a guest. She’s on the menu.”
Bronc’s jaw bunched. “Was she trafficked in?”
“She says it was her father. Debt. Pack politics. She’s been there three years. Longer than the news cycle on that whole Ponzi scheme.”
Wrecker jumped in. “We think it’s connected. Steiner owns Eyrie, but we picked up a bigger stink: witches everywhere, and maybe more. Arsenal thinks it’s a front for something.”
Bronc’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of ‘something’?”
Wrecker laced his hands behind his head, stretching.
“There’s way too much money moving for a strip club, even one with Houston clientele.
Cash flow is more like a hedge fund. And the staff—several are witches, and the bouncers are human but with serious military backgrounds.
Steiner’s not running a pack. He’s running a black site. ”
Bronc chewed on that, then looked to me for confirmation.
I gave it. “They’re moving people. Maybe wolves if they are being subdued with spells.
But Maltraz hates wolves; he’d do whatever it takes to humiliate them.
And the sales are not domestic. That’s the reason we’ve not really heard about it.
Looks like they may transport them through the ship channel and then auction them once they get to their destination somewhere overseas.
We also get the feeling Steiner’s part ends at the docks. ”
He said nothing for a while. He just looked at me, then past me. Then he shook himself, like a dog snapping off rain.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
I didn’t have a good answer. “I just wanted to get to her fast. Guess I was afraid you’d make me wait until we had a solid plan in place, like any good ops leader would.” I hung my head with the shame I felt at letting my Alpha down.
His gaze drilled a hole in my skull. “I’m not your enemy, Arsenal.
I would’ve helped. You know that. But you could have put our entire pack at risk by going off half-cocked.
And Wrecker, you should fuckin’ know better.
You’re my VP. I expect better from you. Can I no longer trust the men who are supposed to be closest to me? ”
I nodded. “Shit, sir. I just… I’d never felt driven like that. My wolf wanted to bust out of my skin to get to our mate. I know it was reckless.” I stopped.
He let the silence hang. Then he looked at Wrecker. “What about you? Did I make a mistake picking you to replace Menace as my VP?”
Wrecker shrugged. “Somebody had to back him up. If he’d gone alone, he wouldn’t have made it back alive. I’m certain of it. Plus, we got vital information while we were there. It was a fuckity fucked way of doing things, but we did accomplish a few things.”
Bronc’s mouth twisted. He tried simply to be mad, but I could see the worry underneath. He laced his fingers together on the desk, knuckles still white.
“Alright,” he said, voice low. “Let’s do it proper. Start at the top. Give me your full sitrep.”
I did, breaking it down into five points, just the way I’d have done in the Corps.
“One: Harper is there under duress. Two: The club is run by Waylon Steiner, but there’s clear evidence of witch coven involvement.
They’re not just employees; they’re part of running the operations.
Three: Physical security is ex-military, not pack.
Four: Steiner is facilitating human trafficking.
We suspect the supply goes through the Houston Ship Channel.
Five: It’s all being handled off-books. No good digital trails, but we think if we dig deep enough, we’ll find ties to Maltraz. ”
That last word changed Bronc’s face entirely. The anger melted off, replaced by a hard, cold focus.
“Maltraz,” he said. “You sure?”
“As sure as we can be without further research. But we had our suspicions back when he was trying to infiltrate our bank accounts. That fucking demon king deals in the nastiest, most evil enterprises known to man. There are few things more evil or lucrative than human trafficking. We’d talked about his involvement in something like this before.
This would be right in his wheelhouse. And I could swear I noticed a demon or two inside that club. ”
Wrecker chimed in. “We’ll pull records of companies we had our eyes on back when he was trying to screw us over a few months ago, checking for shipping companies specifically. I guarantee we’ll find trucking companies that drop cargo at the Houston docks.”
Bronc leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. Then he leaned forward again, elbows on the desk. “So Steiner, what, owns the docks?”
I shook my head. “Maybe. But it feels like he’d get more out of it than just doing what Maltraz says.
Steiner’s not the type to work for anyone.
He’s too proud for that. But no way he’d cross the demon king.
The way he sets up his security, the way he acts around the witches.
He knows that they have more power than he does. ”
Bronc stared at the desktop, then at us. “So what’s your plan?”
Wrecker looked at me. I spoke.
“That depends on you. How far do you wanna go? The main thing I care about is extracting Harper. Getting her safe. Past that? It’s up to you.
I hate the idea that there are women, maybe wolves are being taken and sold or God knows what else.
Don’t know if you wanna just pass the info to Rafe and let the king take it and run.
Maybe we need to bring him in anyway. If Maltraz is involved, it becomes bigger than Iron Valor for sure. I just want my mate back in my arms.”
Bronc nodded, just once. Then he stood and came around the desk, standing over us.
“Alright. You’re going to run this op. Both of you. But you’re going to do it my way. That means no more cowboy shit, no more going off the reservation. You check in at least every other hour, even if it’s just a ping. I want Parker working comms. You got that?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
He put a hand on my shoulder. Heavy, warm. “Jess. You get her out, and you bring her here. She’s family now. But first, you gather every piece of information you can about their operation. And then you’ll create an extraction plan and bring it to me.”
I didn’t say anything, but my wolf wanted to howl.