Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Demi
I didn’t know what I expected when I demanded Werewolf’s help.
Maybe for him to laugh in my face. Maybe for him to shove me out the door and slam it behind me.
I hadn’t expected him to actually agree.
Well, “agree” was generous. More like he’d snarled that he’d keep me on a short leash until he figured out what was going on. His tone had made it sound like a prison sentence. Still, it was something.
And “something” was more than I’d had in six months.
That’s how I ended up in the passenger seat of his truck a few hours later. The city lights blurred past as we drove into territory I didn’t recognize. The silence between us was thick, broken only by the rumble of the engine and the occasional drag of his hand over the steering wheel.
I clutched my bag in my lap. My mind spun with questions I didn’t dare ask.
Who are we going to see?
What are you going to do to them?
What am I doing here?
Finally, I broke. “Where are we going?”
His jaw flexed, and his eyes fixed on the road. “To have a conversation.”
“Conversation,” I repeated, the word flat. “Somehow, I doubt you mean coffee and small talk.”
That earned me the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile. Something darker.
“You wanted answers,” he said. “This is how we get them.”
I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or terrified. Probably both.
We pulled into a deserted lot behind an old warehouse. The place looked abandoned, with rust eating at the corrugated metal walls and weeds pushing through cracks in the pavement. But a single motorcycle leaned against the building, and the faint glow of a cigarette tip pulsed in the shadows.
Werewolf killed the engine and turned to me. “Stay here.”
“No way.” The words flew out before I could stop them.
His eyes cut to me, sharp and unyielding. “This isn’t a debate. You stay put.”
I should’ve argued. Should’ve told him I wasn’t some fragile little thing he could order around. But the truth was, the look in his eyes made my stomach twist, and my body betrayed me. I nodded and swallowed hard.
“Good girl,” he muttered and shoved his door open.
The words sent a strange shiver down my spine.
I watched as he strode toward the shadow by the warehouse. The figure stepped forward, a man, maybe in his late thirties, with jittery eyes. I couldn’t hear what they said at first, just the low rumble of Werewolf’s voice and the quick, nervous replies of the other guy.
Then Werewolf’s hand shot out, grabbed the man by the front of his jacket, and slammed him against the wall hard enough that I flinched.
The sound echoed in the night.
I pressed closer to the window, and my breath fogged the glass. Werewolf leaned in, his face inches from the man’s, with words too low for me to catch. Whatever he said made the guy’s knees buckle.
The man babbled, and his hands waved frantically. Werewolf didn’t budge. He pinned him harder with his forearm dug into the man’s throat until the babbling turned to choked gasps.
My heart pounded. I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t.
This was the side of him I’d only heard whispers about. The Enforcer. The monster who made men disappear. The reason everyone called him Werewolf.
And God help me; I wasn’t just scared.
I was fascinated.
Because beneath the violence lay precision. Control. He wasn’t losing his temper; he was using it. Every movement was calculated. Every growl of his voice was designed to pry loose whatever truth the man was clinging to.
I’d thought I wanted answers.
I hadn’t thought about the cost.
The man finally gasped out something that made Werewolf ease back. He dropped him like trash, and the guy collapsed against the wall while coughing and shaking. Werewolf crouched low, said something sharp, and the man nodded like his life depended on it. Which, I realized, it probably did.
Then Werewolf stood, turned on his heel, and stalked back toward the truck. His expression was unreadable, his hands steady, like he hadn’t just nearly strangled a man in front of me.
He yanked open the driver’s door and slid in.
I stared with my words caught in my throat.
“Well?” I finally managed. “What did he say?”
His eyes flicked to me, then back to the wheel.
“That your brother was asking questions he shouldn’t have.
” He paused for a beat. “Guns,” he muttered finally.
“Moving through places they shouldn’t have.
He started asking whose names were on the manifests, and that’s when he signed his death warrant.
It was just bigger than he thought it was. ”
My stomach dropped. “Bigger how?”
He didn’t answer. It was big enough to get him killed.
“Werewolf.” My voice cracked on his name. “Bigger how?”
He slammed the truck into gear, with tires squealing as we tore out of the lot.
“Drop it, Demi.”
“No.” Heat rose in my chest. “You can’t drag me out here, terrify a man half to death, and then tell me nothing. That’s not fair—”
“Fair?” He barked a sharp laugh. “This isn’t about fair. This is about survival. And if you keep chasing this, you won’t.”
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, and tears stung my eyes. “Tyler didn’t survive either.”
Silence fell.
Finally, he muttered, “You think I don’t know that?”
The words were soft, raw, and like they’d been torn from somewhere deep inside him.
I froze and stared at him. His hands gripped the wheel too tightly, and his veins strained against the skin. His jaw was clenched, but his eyes, just for a second, looked haunted.
Like he wasn’t just carrying my brother’s ghost. He was carrying a hundred more.
Something twisted in my chest, sharp and unexpected.
I should’ve been furious. Should’ve been disgusted. Instead, all I wanted was to reach across the seat, press my hand to his, and tell him he didn’t have to carry it alone.
But I didn’t.
Because I wasn’t sure whose hand would burn more. His or mine.
We drove in silence until he pulled onto a back road and killed the engine.
He sat there for a long time, just staring out the windshield.
Finally, he said, “He worked that warehouse, didn’t he?
” He mumbled, more to himself than to me.
“Clocked in like it was any other night, only this time he saw crates that weren’t supposed to be there.
Asked the wrong question to the wrong man.
After that, there was no walking away clean. He was a liability.”
My stomach turned to stone. “A liability,” I whispered. “He was a person. My brother.”
His eyes closed, just for a moment. “I know.”
Tears spilled hot down my cheeks, and I hated myself for letting him see. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked as my voice shook.
His gaze finally met mine, dark and steady. “Because you wouldn’t stop until you found it out anyway. Better you hear it from me than from someone who’d bury you for asking.”
The words hit like a hammer and knocked the breath from my lungs.
Because for the first time, I realized he wasn’t just keeping me in the dark to protect himself.
He was protecting me.
The silence stretched thick with things I couldn’t say.
Finally, I wiped my face and forced steel back into my voice. “Then who killed him?”
His jaw tightened. “That’s the question that’ll get you killed fastest.”
“And you know the answer.”
He didn’t deny it.
My heart pounded, half fear, half fury. “Then you owe me the truth.”
His eyes burned into mine, sharp and pained. “I don’t owe you a damn thing, Demi. But I’ll get you enough answers to put your brother to rest. That’s all I can promise.”
It wasn’t enough. But it was more than I’d had yesterday.
And for now, that had to be enough.
When he dropped me back at my apartment, the night was nearly over. He took my phone and entered his number. “You need me, you text or call me. No more just showing up.”
I took my phone back and nodded. I climbed out of the truck with my body buzzing with exhaustion and adrenaline. He didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t even look at me as I closed the door.
But as I walked up the steps to my building, I felt his gaze on me.
And even though I knew I should’ve been terrified of him, and of what I’d seen him do tonight, all I could think about was the way his voice had cracked when he said, I know.
And the way, for one fleeting second, I’d wanted nothing more than to touch him.