Chapter 20 #2
On the way out, I paused at the door. Harper hovered behind me, her eyes wide but steady. I bent down, putting my lips to her ear.
“You did great,” I said.
She squeezed my hand. “I felt… safe.”
That was the whole point.
We stepped out into the cold, the smell of barbecue clinging to our hair and clothes, the echo of laughter still ringing in our ears. The stars were bright in the night sky; sharp and blue against the black.
I took her hand and led her to the truck, the engine already running warm.
Inside, with the doors closed, I let myself smile.
Maybe I was still scared. Maybe tomorrow would rip it all away. But tonight, we’d had something close to perfect.
And it was enough.
Three giant monitors glowed on the wall above the whiteboard, and every square inch of table was covered in laptops, maps, open manila folders, and enough caffeine delivery systems to keep a battalion awake. The war room had been readied for us to learn all we could for our trip.
Most nights, the pack house had the low-key, lived-in comfort of any family home: dog hair on the rugs, mismatched mugs in the sink, a faint smell of Pine-Sol and bacon that never fully left the air.
But on mission nights, the place vibrated at a different frequency.
There was a ritual to it. Shoes left at the entry, phones in the Faraday box, everyone moving with a shared sense of urgency.
Harper entered ahead of me, her hand tight in mine.
The mood in the war room was already serious: Bronc at the head, chair tilted back, arms crossed like a general waiting for battle; Juliet beside him, now in jeans and a faded “Cowgirl Up” tee that somehow made the bump of her pregnancy look dangerous.
Wrecker and Parker flanked the screens, each with a laptop open and a stack of files between them.
Doc and Big Papa had staked the side wall.
Aspen sat with Oscar at her feet, a grimoire and a spiral-bound notepad in front of her.
Gunner sat, boots up, chewing on a toothpick, eyes on the door.
We dropped into the two open chairs at the foot of the table, me on the end, Harper to my right. I scanned the room: all eyes forward, all business. The table was littered with enough weaponry—disassembled, legal, and less-than-legal—to make an ATF agent twitch.
Wrecker kicked things off. “Alright, ladies and wolves. We fly out at 0400. King Rafe made it happen: Instead of taking the Iron Valor jet; we’re going in his private Gulfstream out of Amarillo.
We’ll land at Le Bourget–Seine-Saint-Denis and have customs help from Rafe’s witch Gwen.
” He clicked the remote, and a map snapped onto the central monitor, a red line tracing the flight plan.
“From there, Rafe’s men pick us up, get us into the city. ”
Parker slid folders down the table, one for each person.
“These are the files on our contacts in France, plus any known hostiles. All up to date as of four hours ago. I’ve burned the important stuff onto flash drives, too.
” She handed Harper a folder and a small drive. Harper took them, knuckles white.
“Our targets,” Wrecker said, “are Harper’s sister, Brie, and her mom, Nanette.
We believe they’re living under assumed names.
At one point they had been in Montmartre where Brie was showing paintings under a fake name, but that had changed.
Best guess, they’re moving as often as they think they need to. ”
He pulled up a dossier. “Steiner’s got a Paris team. Muscle, not brains. They’ll likely try to snatch-and-grab, not subtle.”
“Any indication Harper’s mom has taken another mate?” Bronc asked, his eyes narrowed to slits.
Wrecker shook his head. “No, but she’s not above hiding in plain sight. If she did, it’d be a power move: tying her wagon to a Paris pack, maybe one of the old bloodlines.” He glanced at Harper. “Sorry, but we have to consider it.”
She nodded, lips pressed tight.
“Brie?” I said. “Any boyfriend, girlfriend, mate?”
Wrecker raised an eyebrow. “No mate on record, but she’s been seen with a couple of Parisian wolves. We don’t know if it’s social or if she’s in bed with them, but they’re definitely not human.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
Harper’s voice was thin. “Is that… is it dangerous?”
Parker shrugged. “Depends. Could be they’re protecting her. Or could be they’re the honey trap, holding her until Steiner pays up.”
Big Papa’s baritone rolled out. “Either way, we go in assuming they’re compromised. Trust nobody who ain’t on our payroll or in the pack.”
“Copy that,” I said.
Parker switched screens. “The other thing to know: Paris PD is on the take, and most French wolf packs play both sides. If we go loud, it’ll get ugly fast. If we go quiet, we might have a shot at pulling them out before anyone knows we’re there.”
Wrecker smirked. “But if it does go loud, I brought toys.” He slid a sheet across to me, a detailed checklist of hardware stashed with Rafe’s men at the airstrip. I read it, lips twitching.
“Nice,” I said. “But I’ll still bring my own.”
Doc piped up, quiet but firm. “Extraction plan?”
Wrecker looked at Parker, who answered. “There’s a secondary airstrip on the south edge of the city. If we can’t get back to the original, we’ll drive them to the fallback. Rafe’s guy will meet us there. Ten-minute runway window, then it’s a hard exfil.”
“And if we’re separated?” I said.
Parker didn’t miss a beat. “Each team has a burner. If one team gets split, rendezvous at one of the safe-houses listed in your file. They’re in code, but the GPS is already programmed. You get there, you lock down, you wait for the go signal.”
Bronc leaned forward, voice like gravel. “Everyone got their role?”
One by one, we nodded.
He pointed at Wrecker and Parker. “You two are brains and comms. Doc, you’re transport and medical.
Papa, you run point on physical extraction.
Aspen, you and Gunner will work your comms from here.
Arsenal, you keep Harper glued to your hip at all times.
Her safety is the mission. If Steiner or anyone else gets near her, you go full combat on their ass.
Keep Rafe’s men up to speed and near. I want their team running second on this.
If Steiner is taken down, I want plausible deniability.
Our most important asset will be Gwen. She is an incredibly powerful witch who has been with Rafe for years.
She’ll be able to create a veil that will shield y’all from human and supernatural eyes.
As long as she’s okay, you should be able to get in and get out without too much trouble. But prepare for all contingencies.”
I straightened. “Yes, sir.”
Juliet smiled at Harper, a little flick of warmth. “You’ll be okay,” she said. “We have the best in the world with you.”
The briefing rolled on. We hashed every contingency, every backup plan.
If the house were burned, we’d regroup at a safe-house.
If the police got involved, Parker had bribes ready for at least two captains in the 18th arrondissement.
If the worst happened, Wrecker would blow the fallback airstrip with C4, and everyone would run for the train.
It all made sense, and it all felt like it could go to shit in one bad minute.
The conversation turned to the targets: Brie, Harper’s sister, last seen at an art show.
The mother, last confirmed at a French bakery near the Marais.
There were photos, blurry but good enough.
Harper stared at the pages like she could will them into reality.
The wolf friends were the only unknowns.
I flipped through my own file, scanning every page. Patterns, schedules, possible chokepoints. My mind raced with tactical overlays, possible ambushes, fallback positions. The more I saw, the more I liked the plan. The only part I didn’t like was the unknowns.
“Steiner’s men,” I said. “How many?”
Wrecker grunted. “Four confirmed, maybe two more. They’re ex-military, mostly US or Polish mercs, with a couple of shifters for muscle.”
“Names?”
He passed a sheet. “Best we could do. These are ugly dudes, Arsenal. Not the kind that scare easy.”
I memorized every name and face, then slid the page to Harper. She studied it, brow furrowed.
Parker asked, “You recognize any?”
She shook her head, then stopped. “Wait. The one on the left. I think I saw him in Houston. He was… he came to the club with Steiner once. He was quiet, but he watched everything.”
Wrecker grinned. “That tracks. He’s ex-Polish GROM. Likes knives.”
I felt Harper stiffen beside me. I put my hand on her knee under the table and gave her a squeeze.
Wrecker summed it up: “These aren’t dumb goons. They’ll improvise.”
Bronc looked at me. “You ready?”
I nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Papa clapped his hands together, the sound sharp as a pistol shot. “Then it’s settled.”
Juliet collected the folders, giving Harper’s an extra squeeze. “You’ll do great,” she whispered.
Everyone broke up, heading out in ones and twos. Wrecker and Parker lingered, heads bent together over a laptop. Bronc walked us to the door.
On the porch, under the bare bulbs, he paused. “She’ll be safe,” he said, looking me dead in the eye.
“I know,” I said, and for the first time, I believed it.
We walked up to my apartment in silence. I could see the fear in her, but I could also see her bravery.
At the door, she stopped. “Do you think we’ll get them out?” she asked.
I looked at her, really looked, and saw the future mapped in the lines of her face.
“We’ll get them,” I said.
And I meant it.
Tomorrow, we’d fly to Paris.
Tonight, I’d keep watch over her dreams.