Chapter Five
Wolf
T he night is as silent as a whispered secret, and under the moonlight, I can see the dim outlines of the bikes parked outside Janelle's house. I circle the perimeter every few minutes, ensuring there are no signs of unwanted visitors. The cool night air is a slight relief against the tension building up since we got the call about Janelle’s ex getting bolder with his threats.
As I patrol, my thoughts drifted back to Janelle and her kids. They remind me so much of what I fight so hard to protect during my time in the Army—innocence and peace. The way Dillion looks up at me with those big eyes full of trust... stirs something deep inside me. Something protective, almost primal.
I check my phone for updates from Tank or the other guys, but everything is quiet. It was too quiet for my liking—it always makes me more alert.
"Everything all right, Wolf?" Hatchet, one of my right-hand guys, approaches me, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light.
"Yeah, all's quiet," I reply, keeping my eyes on the shadows that dance along the street. "Just making sure it stays that way."
Hatchet nods, understanding the unspoken weight of responsibility that hangs between us. "You've got an extra eye on this one, huh?"
I can't help but smile a little at his remark. "Something like that," I admit, thinking of Janelle and her kids tucked away inside. The thought of anyone causing them more harm ignited my protective fury.
"We'll keep it locked down tight. No worries there," Hatchet reassures me, clapping a firm hand on my shoulder before returning to his post.
I continue my rounds, each step a silent promise to keep them safe. The night air is chilly, and I pull my jacket tighter around me. It isn't just the physical cold that nipped at my skin—the coldness of the threat lurking in the shadows, unseen but deeply felt. Every creak and rustle of leaves has me on high alert, ready to spring into action if needed.
I paused near the corner of the house, scanning the street again. Nothing moves except for a stray cat that darts across the beam of a streetlight. I take a deep breath, trying to ease the constant tension in my shoulders. This is personal, not just another job or a favor for a friend. Janelle and those kids deserve peace, and I give anything to ensure they get it.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I get another message from Janelle.
JANELLE: Just heard something outside. Probably nothing, but it got me spooked.
Instantly, my senses heighten, and I respond immediately.
ME: On it. Don’t worry, stay inside.
I motion to Hatchet, who is nearby, whispering enough for only him to hear. "Check the back, will you? I’ll take the front."
Hatchet nods once and moved swiftly toward the back of the house, his steps silent but urgent. I pull my jacket closer and quicken my pace as I make a beeline for the front porch, my eyes scanning every shadow and every potential hiding spot. The occasional streetlight flicker does little to pierce the thick blanket of darkness that has settled over the neighborhood.
As I approach the front door, I keep my hand near my sidearm, ready for whatever might come. The quiet is oppressive, punctuated only by the distant sound of a dog barking. I pause when I reach the porch, listening for any signs of disturbance.
Everything seems normal, and there are no signs of forced entry or unusual activity around the front. My phone buzzes as I’m about to join Hatchet at the back.
JANELLE: Sorry, false alarm. Chloe just knocked over her water bottle. I didn’t mean to scare you.
Relief washes over me, but I remain vigilant, my instincts still on high alert from the false alarm. I tap out a quick response to reassure her.
ME: No worries. Better safe than sorry. I’m just glad it’s nothing serious.
After sending the message, I take a deep breath and slowly adjust the grip on my sidearm. It’s part of the job, responding to every noise, every shadow — because there’s no room for error regarding safety, especially Janelle's and her kids.
I continue my rounds, making an extra pass around the house before meeting with Hatchet at the rear. He reports nothing unusual, just a quiet night with the occasional rustling leaves and distant city sounds.
“We’re good here, Wolf,” Hatchet confirms, his voice low and steady.
I feel a momentary ease in the tension that knots my muscles tight all night. "Thanks, man. Keep your eyes peeled, though, will you? It's these quiet nights that can turn sideways fast."
Hatchet gave a short, affirmative salute making me snicker, and we both stand still momentarily, listening to the subtle nocturnal happenings around us. The peaceful suburban noises contrast sharply with the racing thoughts about potential dangers. This duality—calm yet cautious—define our nights lately.
As Hatchet returns to his post, I pull out my phone again, scrolling through recent calls to ensure we haven't missed any updates from the local PD or our contacts. Everything is as it should be, yet the uneasy feeling lurking in my chest doesn’t subside.
I text Janelle once more before continuing my rounds.
ME: All clear out here. Try to get some rest. We’re on watch.
Janelle’s response comes almost immediately, a small comfort in the quiet night.
JANELLE: Thanks, Wolf. Will try. I appreciate all this.
Her gratitude, always sincere, fuels me. It reminds me why I did what I did—not just for the adrenaline or the camaraderie of the MC, but for people like Janelle and her kids, who deserve to sleep without fear.
As I resumed my patrol, the night continued its silent vigil. The moon is a sliver in the sky, casting faint shadows on the ground that play tricks on my eyes. Every rustling leaf or snapping twig has me tightening my grip on my sidearm, ready to confront any threat that dare to disrupt the peace we are guarding so fiercely.
Halfway through my lap around the house, my phone vibrates again. This time, it was Tank with an update from one of our informants about Janelle’s ex, who is still in town and bragging about some big move he’s planning. The pit of my stomach clenched with the news. I can't let my guard down, not even for a second.
ME: Keep tabs on him. Any change in his routine?
TANK: Will do. He's been talking big, but nothing solid yet. Stay sharp.
I pocket my phone, a growl rumbling deep within me. The thought of Janelle’s ex causing more terror is more than enough to fuel my resolve. No way am I going to let anything happen to Janelle or those kids on my watch.
Turning a corner, I pause, listening to the subtle sounds of the night — a distant car horn, a dog barking far off. It’s the calm before the storm, and every fiber of my being was ready for whatever is coming.
"Everything okay?" Hatchet's voice breaks through the quiet as he approaches from his position at the back of the house.
"Just got an update from Tank," I murmur, keeping my voice low. "Her ex is still making noises about some nonsense. We need to stay alert."
Hatchet’s face setting into a grim line that mirrors my thoughts. "Understood. We'll tighten up the perimeter even more. Can't be too careful with that scumbag lurking around."
I take a moment to scan the area again, feeling Hatchet's steadfast presence beside me as an unspoken reassurance. "I appreciate it," I say, clapping him on the shoulder before walking the perimeter again.