Chapter 18
The moment the connection snapped into place; Goliath became a predator on the scent. Everything else disappeared.
The clubhouse, the roaring bikes, the worried faces of his brothers—none of it mattered. Because he could feel her. Faint. Like a whisper on the wind. His mate. Sofia.
She was out there. Alive. Afraid. And he was going to find her. No matter how much blood he had to spill.
“Goliath.”
King’s voice was steady, sharp, cutting through the pounding in his skull. “Talk to me. Where is she?”
Goliath closed his eyes, breathing deep, focusing.
The bond wasn’t clear, wasn’t solid—it was like a rope frayed at the edges, barely holding. But it was there, a tug in his chest. South. Not far. Not far enough to stop him from ripping every fucking thing apart.
His voice came out low, guttural. “South. Maybe twenty, twenty-five miles.”
Frost was already pulling out a map, laying it across the table. “That narrows it. Shadow Riders don’t have a property that far out.”
King exhaled sharply, fingers tapping against the wood. “Then who the fuck does?” Silence.
Then—Dash stiffened. His eyes darkened as he looked up. “Rodes.”
The word hit the room like a gunshot. Goliath’s head snapped toward him, confusion sharpening into something colder. “Who the fuck is Rodes?” Dash hesitated. A beat too long.
Goliath’s voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. “Talk.”
Dash cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jason Rodes. He’s Sofia’s boss. Owns a couple of clubs, some legit businesses on paper, but everyone knows he’s into deeper shit. Guns. Laundering. Bribes. She’s been doing his books for years.”
Goliath’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. “Why haven’t I heard his name before?”
Dash’s expression shifted—uneasy now. “She never brought him up. I figured maybe it was just some quiet employer thing. I didn’t push it.”
Goliath stepped forward; his jaw tight. “And you didn’t think to mention that her boss is a shady motherfucker with a private army and access to dirty cash?”
“I thought you already knew.” Dash’s voice was firmer now, but there was a flicker of guilt behind his eyes.
“Fuck,” Goliath’s voice was steel. Quiet. Lethal. His chest was rising and falling fast, not from exertion—from fury. Sofia hadn’t told him about Rodes. Because she was protecting him. And now she was gone, and this bastard—this Jason Rodes might be the fucker that had taken her.
“I didn’t know she was scared of him,” Dash said, his voice firmer now, but laced with tension. “She never mentioned feeling unsafe. I figured maybe she just didn’t want the hassle of leaving a guy like Rodes. He’s powerful. Rich. The kind you don’t cross unless you’ve got backup.”
But before anyone could respond, Alaska stepped forward, her eyes locked on Dash with a fire that silenced the room. “That’s not true,” everyone turned. Her jaw was clenched, her voice tight. “She told me.”
Goliath froze.
Alaska continued, her voice growing sharper with every word. “She said he argued with her. That he had power in places he shouldn’t. She didn’t want to say much, but she told me enough—That she knew stuff about him that he wouldn’t like others to know.”
She looked directly at Goliath now. “And she said he threatened her if she ever talked.” The room fell into dead silence.
Then Goliath moved. Not fast. Not loud. Just a slow, deliberate step forward, the kind of step that came right before something exploded. His chest rose and fell with laboured breaths, his hands curled into tight fists, veins bulging beneath his skin.
Then he exploded.
With a roar that shook the walls, he swept the table clean with one massive swing of his arm—maps, weapons, and cups crashing to the floor in a violent scatter.
“HE THREATENED HER?!” His voice was a beast's snarl. “AND YOU—YOU KNEW?!”
Alaska stepped back, startled, but it wasn’t her he was looking at—he wasn’t seeing anything clearly anymore. Dash grabs Alaska’s upper arm pulling her behind him.
Goliath reached for the nearest chair and hurled it across the room, splintering it against the far wall.
“HE THREATENED HER?!” Goliath roars, his arms bulging with fury, his body vibrating in rage. Frost, King, and Dixon were on him in seconds.
“Goliath, stop!” Dixon roars.
“Get your head in the game!” King orders.
But it was too late. His wolf was breaking through, his eyes glowing gold, his breath heaving as the shift clawed at his skin.
“I’ll kill him.” His voice was low now, guttural, more growl than words. “I’ll tear out his spine with my bare fucking hands.”
King shoved him back hard, slamming both palms into his chest. “Not yet. We need a location. You go off half-cocked now, and we lose her forever.”
Goliath stood frozen for a moment, his entire body trembling with fury. His fists clenched at his sides, his mouth bleeding from where he’d bitten down too hard.
But finally, with a breath that sounded like it was torn from his soul, he stepped back.
“Find him,” Goliath turned to King. “We need every piece of intel we have on this son of a bitch. Where he sleeps. Who he pays. What he eats for breakfast,” he said, voice raw. “And when we do, you better all be ready—because I’m going to paint the fucking walls with his blood.”
His voice was cold, controlled, but beneath it was a storm. “I want to tear his entire fucking life apart.” Goliath’s entire body went still. Jason Rodes. Sofia’s boss. The man she hadn’t told him about.
She fucking knew. The second the pieces clicked into place; a roar ripped from Goliath’s throat. Tables crashed as he threw them aside, his vision flashing red. “You knew she was scared of him, and you didn’t tell me?”
Dash took a step forward, not backing down. “I didn’t know he’d fucking take her!” Goliath’s breathing was ragged, barely contained.
“If you had told me sooner, she wouldn’t be missing at all!”
Fang slammed a fist on the table, cutting through the tension. “Enough! We don’t have time for this shit.”
King turned to Frost and Dixon immediately. “Pull every file we have on Rodes. Bank accounts, properties, shell companies. I want to know where he eats, where he sleeps, and where he buries his trash.”
Frost nodded and vanished down the hallway toward the back office. Dixon was already at the laptop, fingers flying across the keys.
“He owns three clubs in the city. One shut down last year, two still running under different LLCs. He’s got a warehouse on the docks, a few properties registered under shell names outside of town, and… wait—” Dixon’s brow furrowed. “There’s a remote estate listed under a holding company. Ten miles south of here.”
“That’s him.” Goliath’s voice was like steel, low and barely contained. “That’s where she is.”
King looked up sharply. “You sure?” Goliath didn’t stop pacing. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, his boots hammering a groove into the floorboards.
“I don’t need to be sure. I feel her.” He paused for half a second, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “She’s there. I know it.” The room pulsed with tension, everyone feeding off his desperation.
Goliath’s eyes were locked on the door like he could rip it off its hinges and sprint toward her on foot. “I can’t sit here. Not one more fucking second.”
Fang stepped in front of him. “We’re moving fast, brother. But if you go in blind, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
Goliath’s growl was low, vibrating in his chest. “If she’s in that place, I’m not waiting on a goddamn plan. I’m walking through the front door and burning it to the fucking ground.”
Dixon lifted his eyes from the screen. “Security’s heavy. Thermal cams. Motion sensors. He’s got this place like a fortress.”
“Then we tear down the fucking walls,” Goliath snarled.
King stepped forward now, calm and firm. “We will. But we do it right. No mistakes. No second chances.”
Goliath nodded, barely, his breathing shallow, every nerve in his body stretched to the edge.
He needed to move. To kill. To get to her. Because the longer she was gone, the more his soul felt like it was being carved out of his chest.
And he knew—deep in his bones—if they didn’t find her soon, he’d lose what little of himself he had left.
King straightened, gaze sweeping across the room. “Chapel. Now.”
The men fell into motion instantly. Chairs scraped back; boots pounded across the floor. Within seconds, the Wolverines and their closest allies were gathered, the table in front of them littered with maps, satellite photos, and tactical gear.
Dixon laid out the overhead image of Rodes’ compound, marking out the perimeter with red grease pencil. “Perimeter’s reinforced with two security gates. Cameras cover the front and back. There’s a side service road—only lightly monitored. It’s the weak point.”
Hunter leaned in, his gravel-rough voice quiet. “We hit it from three angles. Diversion at the main gates. Two strike teams go in fast and hard from the side and rear.”
Fang nodded. “We keep them boxed in. No one gets out. We storm the fucking place, we extract the girl, and we leave nothing standing.”
Blue, arms folded, smirked without humour. “No survivors, right?”
King met his stare. “Only one. Rodes. If we can get to him before Goliath does.” Goliath said nothing.
He stood behind the table, arms braced against the edge, staring down at the layout like he could will her location to appear.
Frost tapped a potential breach point on the rear side. “We take this wall here. I’ve scouted compounds like this. The motion sensors are old. If we move in tight formation, we can slip under them.”
“And the guards?” Fang asked, loading rounds into a spare magazine.
“Leave them to me,” Frost said, voice flat, dangerous.
Hunter leaned forward, finger stabbing a point near the main house. “We’ll need eyes inside. Someone’s got to spot her quick once we breach. We split frequencies—one channel for the strike team, one for Goliath and the extraction unit.”
King looked around the table. Every man’s face was hard. Focused. Deadly.
“We move at first light,” he said. “Armoured vests, suppressed weapons, fast and silent. We get in, get her out, and if anyone stands in our way—”
“We bury them,” Goliath growled, voice like gravel and flame.
No one argued. No one blinked. Because everyone at that table knew that this wasn’t about strategy anymore. It was about retribution, and for Goliath, it was personal. Deadly personal. “We ride. Now.” Goliath whirled, shoving past Dash.
“I’m leaving now.” His voice was a snarl, a growl, a fucking command. Because they weren’t wasting another second. Sofia was waiting. And he was coming. The men realized there was no stopping him now, the clubhouse erupted into chaos.
Men were loading weapons, throwing on cuts, preparing for war. Goliath stormed out first, his boots hitting the pavement hard as he mounted his bike. The second his hands gripped the handlebars, his wolf surged forward, hungry, demanding blood.
Hunter pulled up beside him, loading a fresh magazine into his Glock. “We are taking them all out if they have your woman?”
Dixon rolled his shoulders. “I vote we burn the place down.”
King’s voice was steady, sharp. “We do what we must. First priority is getting Sofia back. Then we decide who fucking lives.” Goliath revved the engine, his jaw tight. There wouldn’t be a decision.
Every single one of those motherfuckers was already dead if they had touched Sofia. The ride was a blur. The world flew by, but his mind was trapped in a loop. Her voice, her laughter. The way she had smirked at him that first night at the clubhouse, like she didn’t quite trust him yet—but wanted to.
The way she had gasped his name, her body arching beneath him, her lips swollen from his kisses.
The way she had belonged to him. And now? Now she was out there, maybe locked away, hurt. The thought sent another wave of blinding fury through him. His wolf was pacing, restless, demanding he change, demanding he rip through everything in his way. But he couldn’t lose himself. Not yet. Not until she was safe.
The compound came into view just as Goliath had pictured it. High walls. Armed guards. They were expecting an attack. But they weren’t expecting the Wolverines.
King signalled with his hand, and the men split off—some flanking left, others right. Goliath stayed dead centre. Because he wasn’t sneaking in.
He was walking straight through the fucking front door. The guards barely had time to react before gunfire split the night. A bullet whizzed past Goliath’s head, and he barely flinched, lifting his own gun, pulling the trigger.
The first man went down. Then the second. Then the third. They weren’t stopping. The Wolverines moved like wolves closing in for the kill.
Frost disappeared into the shadows, his knives already flashing as he cut men down without a sound. Hunter tackled a man to the ground, breaking his neck with a sickening snap.
Dixon and Fang were already at the side doors, blowing through security like paper.
Goliath didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Because he was almost there. A man barrelled toward him, swinging a crowbar.
Goliath caught it midair, ripped it from the bastard’s hands, and cracked it against his skull. Bones snapped, blood sprayed. And then—silence. The fight was over.
The only men left breathing were the ones the Wolverines had chosen to keep alive for information.
Goliath turned, his voice a guttural snarl. “Where. The. Fuck. Is. She?”
Jason Rodes wasn’t here. Which meant they weren’t done yet. And Goliath wasn’t stopping until he had her back. Or until every last one of these motherfuckers was dead.
He stood in the middle of the compound, chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. For a moment, the world around him seemed to blur, as if sound and sight were being sucked away by the sheer gravity of his fury.
Then—he threw his head back and roared.
The sound was savage. Primeval. A sound that shook the walls and echoed into the night like a declaration of war.
It wasn’t just anger. It was grief, loss, and a soul-splitting sense of failure all wrapped into one beast’s howl. His mate wasn’t here.
He’d come all this way. He’d killed. Bled. Fought. And she still wasn’t here.
The rage boiled inside him until he thought his own skin might tear apart under the pressure. Behind him, two of the surviving guards were being dragged across the gravel—bloody, groaning, barely conscious.
King shoved one of them down to his knees, his gun pressed to the man's temple.
“Where the fuck is Rodes?”
The man coughed, blood spilling from his mouth. “I—I don’t know… he left before the attack—he said it was too hot, that we’d buy him time—”
“Where did he go?” King’s voice was calm, but there was death in it.
The man shook his head frantically. “He doesn’t tell us! He doesn’t trust anyone—only his driver knows, I swear—”
The other man tried to crawl away. Frost stepped in without a word and crushed the man’s leg under his boot.
“Scream louder,” Frost said coldly. “Maybe the truth will come out.”
Dixon knelt beside the first guard. “He keeps backup locations, right? Where would he hide the girl?”
“He has a property north of the ridge,” the man gasped. “Private. No one goes there. I only heard it mentioned once—”
“Coordinates,” Goliath growled. “Give them. Now.”
The man rattled off what he could, and Dixon was already in putting it into his phone, but for Goliath, none of it was fast enough. He turned away from the others, trying to breathe. But he couldn’t. Every breath felt like it was slicing through his ribs.
His mind flooded with images he couldn’t stop—Sofia chained to a wall, bleeding, crying out for him in the dark.
Jason hitting her again. Or worse. Touching her. The thought nearly brought him to his knees.
His claws pushed through the skin at his fingertips as he paced, chest rising and falling, vision blurring. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. All he saw was her in pain. And him, too fucking late.
He clenched his jaw, hard enough to crack teeth, the sound of his own growl vibrating in his throat like an animal fighting its cage.
He had to find her. Now. Because if one more second passed—if one more minute slipped by and she wasn’t back in his arms—He might not come back from it.