Chapter 10
The ride back to the clubhouse was quiet. Too quiet. The weight of what they were about to do sat heavy in the air, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. This wasn’t just another club skirmish—this was war. And every man riding toward that battle knew it.
Goliath pulled up next to King as they neared the clubhouse. “We ready for this?”
King’s expression was unreadable as he let out a slow breath. “We have to be.”
Goliath exhaled sharply, glancing at the men around them. "We should think about calling in some allies. We can’t be the only ones who want the Shadow Riders put in the ground."
King nodded slowly, considering it. "I already reached out to the Blood Fangs and the Iron Claws. They’ll back us if we need it. But you know how this works—favours come with a price. If we pull them in, we owe them."
Goliath grunted. "Better than going in outnumbered. And what about shifting? We’ve got an advantage they don’t. If some of the brothers shift and take them from behind, they won’t see it coming."
King’s jaw tightened. "We have to be careful with that. Too many people knowing what we are? That’s dangerous. We don’t trust the Blood Fangs or the Iron Claws enough to let them see that side of us. The wrong person finds out, and we’ve got more than just MCs after us. We have hunters, scientists, and every other bastard out there who would love to rip us apart and study what makes us tick."
Goliath nodded reluctantly. "I get it. But if shit goes south, we use everything we have. Agreed?"
King’s eyes flashed with determination. "Agreed."
As the men prepared for the fight ahead, Goliath stepped away from the others, phone in hand. He dialled the number by heart, pressing the phone to his ear as it rang.
"Sofia."
Her breath caught on the other end. “Goliath?”
"Yeah, baby. It’s me."
A long pause. He could hear her inhale, the slight tremor in her breath. "Are you… are you calling to say goodbye?"
"No." His voice was gruff, firm. "I don’t do goodbyes, Sofia. I just needed to hear your voice." Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken fears.
"I don’t like this," she finally admitted. "I don’t like you going out there without knowing if you’ll come back."
Goliath clenched his jaw. He wanted to promise her everything would be fine, but he wouldn’t lie to her. Instead, he breathed out, “I’m coming back to you. Always.”
She didn’t answer right away, but he could hear her breathing pick up. “You better.”
He smirked. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”
“Damn right,” she shot back, voice shaky but full of fire, “just make sure you come back.”
His chest ached with something dangerous and deep. She was his. "You got it, baby."
And with that, he hung up, shoving his phone into his pocket as he turned back toward the men.
King was already gearing up, loading his weapons when Goliath approached. “Frost’s been quiet. More than usual.”
King didn’t look up, but his expression tightened. "Yeah. I noticed."
"Something’s off with him."
King finally met Goliath’s gaze. “Keep an eye on him.”
Goliath nodded. "I will."
The road stretched out before them, dark and empty. They rode in formation, engines roaring through the night, a silent promise of the hell they were about to rain down on the Shadow Riders. Then, it happened.
The first shot cracked through the air, shattering the night’s silence.
“AMBUSH!” King roared, yanking his bike to the side just as a hail of bullets rained down from the treeline.
The men reacted instantly. Bikes swerved, guns were drawn, and the night exploded into chaos.
Goliath threw himself off his bike, rolling behind an abandoned truck for cover. His wolf snarled inside him, begging to be unleashed.
The Shadow Riders were dug in, on high ground and well covered, they were on a damn good position. But they hadn’t counted on one thing—
The Wolverines weren’t easy prey.
Fang and Hunter flanked left, sending return fire into the treeline. Blue and Dixon took the right, picking off Shadow Riders wherever they could. Goliath and the rest of the men surged forward, ducking and weaving between gunfire, their own guns barking in return. Then, a sharp cry split the air. Blue.
He went down hard, blood pouring from his shoulder as he clutched the wound. “FUCK!”
And that was all it took for Frost to lose it. A guttural roar ripped from Frost’s throat as he charged forward, no hesitation, no cover, just pure rage.
The shooter didn’t even have time to react before Frost was on him, knife flashing, tearing through flesh like it was paper. Another Shadow Rider came at him from the side, blade in hand, ready to strike. The knife sank deep into Frost’s side, but he didn’t stop.
With a snarl, he yanked the blade from his own flesh and plunged it into the bastard’s throat. Goliath reached him first, grabbing his arm before he could stagger any further.
"Frost! You’re hit." Frost barely blinked, his breathing ragged but his eyes cold. “So?”
Goliath’s teeth clenched. “So, you’re not dying today.”
The battle raged around them, but in that moment, Goliath knew one thing—this wasn’t over, not by a long shot. There was something going on with Frost, something deep, and whatever that was they would have to make sure that they all pulled together to help him through it, because Frost was one crazy motherfucker that would rather self-harm then impose or hurt anyone close to him.
The firefight intensified, bullets ricocheting off metal and tearing through the night. The Shadow Riders weren’t backing down easily, and for every man the Wolverines dropped, more seemed to appear from the darkness.
King crouched behind cover, barking orders into his earpiece. “Fang! Gunner! Shift and get into position. Now.”
Fang’s eyes flashed gold in the darkness, and without hesitation, he and Gunner ducked into the shadows. Moments later, the sound of fabric tearing and bones snapping into place filled the air—then silence. Two massive wolves emerged, their eyes glowing, their bodies coiled and ready. As the gunfire raged, the wolves disappeared into the treeline, moving like ghosts through the battlefield, waiting for the moment to strike.
Meanwhile, Goliath turned back to Frost, whose breath was coming in ragged gasps, blood pooling at his side.
"You’re done, Frost," Goliath growled, pressing his palm hard against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. "You keep fighting, and you’ll bleed out before you even take another shot."
Frost gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching. "I don’t stop."
King crouched beside them, his expression grim as he took in Frost’s injuries and the carnage around them. "You’re getting patched up. That’s an order."
Before Frost could protest, a chilling howl split the night. The wolves had found their targets.
Suddenly, screams erupted from the treeline, the scent of fear and blood thick in the air. Fang and Gunner tore through the Shadow Riders, ripping into them with primal ferocity. The advantage had shifted.
King’s lips curled into a deadly smirk. "Time to finish this."
The Wolverines rode hard and fast into the night, their engines screaming like war drums.
But when they reached the Shadow Riders’ clubhouse, they realized too late—they had walked into a trap. The Shadow Riders stood waiting, but they weren’t alone.
More men than expected lined the lot—Serpents MC, armed and ready. Goliath’s gut twisted as he pulled his bike to a stop beside King. Reaper stood at the front, arms crossed, grinning.
“You boys should’ve stayed home,” Reaper sneered.
King’s voice was cold steel. “You brought in the Serpents. That’s a coward’s move.”
Reaper chuckled. “No such thing as cowardice in war.” The Wolverines were outnumbered five to one. For now. King gave a small nod, and one by one, the Wolverines backed away. This wasn’t over, but it wouldn’t be tonight.
The ride back to the clubhouse was too quiet. Tension thickened the air like a brewing storm, their engines growling beneath them, a restless energy surging through the pack. This wasn’t just about retaliation anymore—this was war. And every man riding toward that battle knew it.
The moment they pulled into the clubhouse, rage filled the air.
Goliath slammed a fist against the wall, his wolf roaring inside him. “We should’ve fucking ended this.”
King exhaled; his expression unreadable. “We will.” King’s voice barked out commands.
“All weapons checked—now! I want injuries dealt with, and I want every man ready to ride again at a moment’s notice.” He turned toward Dixon. “Set up a full perimeter. I want eyes on every damn entrance, every road leading in or out of this place.”
The brothers immediately jumped into action. No hesitation. No complaints. Every man still burned with the rage of the ambush.
Inside the clubhouse in the Chapel room, the Wolverines sat gathered around the table, faces tight with controlled fury, shoulders rigid beneath the weight of unfinished business.
King slammed his fists on the table. “We underestimated them. That mistake won’t happen again.”
“They were waiting for us,” Hunter muttered darkly. “They knew we were coming.”
“Damn right they did,” Fang growled. “They’re not stupid. But what we didn’t know—what we weren’t ready for—was them calling in the Serpents MC.” A low growl rumbled through the room.
The Serpents weren’t just another gang. They were ruthless mercenaries, an MC for hire, running guns and bodies wherever the highest bidder sent them.
“They weren’t riding alone,” King confirmed. “We’re outnumbered.”
“They led us right to their doorstep,” Dixon muttered, shaking his head. “It was a goddamn trap.”
“We need backup,” Fang said, his voice steel.
Goliath grunted. “We have allies. Let’s call them.”
King nodded, already ahead of them. “Blood Fangs and Iron Claws will back us.”
Dixon exhaled. “And the price?”
King’s lips pressed together. “We’ll owe them.”
Silence stretched before Goliath finally spoke. “Better than going in outnumbered.”
King’s gaze swept the room. “Agreed?”
One by one, they nodded.
King turned to Hunter and Gunner. “I want both of you shifted and tracking that club. I want eyes on them tonight, every move they make. I don’t want any more fucking surprises.”
A slow grin spread across Hunter’s face as he and Gunner exchanged a look.
“They won’t see us coming,” Gunner promised.
As the meeting broke up, Goliath turned to Blue. The man was slumped against his chair, his face pale, blood seeping through the bandages on his shoulder.
“You gonna make it?” Goliath asked.
Blue smirked weakly. “I’ve had worse.”
“You need to rest,” King told him firmly. “You’re not riding out again until that arm is working.”
Blue grunted but didn’t argue. He knew better. On the other side of the room, Frost hadn’t moved.
The man was sitting stiffly, his breathing controlled, his expression unreadable. The stitches from his stab wound were still fresh, but he looked ready to go to war again.
Goliath narrowed his gaze. “You good?”
Frost just nodded once.