Chapter Sixty-Three
Fenrir
RING. CLANG. RING.
An impossibly loud siren shrieks. My body jackknifes up, sheets and blankets wrapping around me, trying to tug me under like a serpent. Fuck, I hate snakes. The noise continues, piercing my ears as goosebumps erupt along my skin.
What is it? A tornado? The sound is unlike anything I’ve heard before—and I programmed every fucking alarm in this place.
Adrenaline pumps through me as I fight to get out of my messy bed.
Disoriented, I grab my clock and hurl it across the room, but I barely hear its shattering impact with the wall.
But still the shrieking continues. Echoing off every surface in my room, making my soul want to flee my body. Panicked, I stumble, lost in a fog and trying to find the source.
What the ever-loving fuck?
Heart hammering, I bring my hands to cover my ears.
It doesn’t completely drown out the sound, but it’s enough to help me get my bearings straight.
Glancing around, my eyes skim over wrappers, empty bottles of beer, energy drinks, and all the other shit in my room at the clubhouse.
Accounting for my location helps me slow my breathing.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
Everything seems all right, except for the blaring.
Keeping my ears covered, I wander into the adjoining room.
Most of the brothers have houses on the property, but I prefer to stay in the clubhouse, so I took over two rooms—one for my bedroom and a second for my computers.
Gotta have a little space between work and pleasure.
The moment I walk into my computer cave, the sound shuts off and the screen turns bright green.
“Took you long enough,” a heavily concealed voice says over my computer speakers, and my jaw clenches, knowing that while this is not a physical attack, it is certainly a cyber one. “Might want to put some clothes on.”
WildHuntZ. Hacker extraordinaire and the current bane of my existence.
I’m not sure why this dude won’t go the hell away. After they hacked me during my search for Willow, I beefed up my security, yet they keep finding their way through. Probably a fucking fed.
Thankfully, I’ve already moved any less-than-legal club business to a different computer, completely off the grid—but this is next-level shit. Taking over the camera, microphone, and waking me from a dead sleep. No. Fed or not, this asshole’s going to need a lesson. Fury builds in my gut.
“Don’t like it? Don’t look,” I snap. Walking closer to my laptop, I let myself come into the light. If they didn’t wanna see my cock, they shouldn’t have woken me up in the middle of the fucking night.
“Suit yourself.” The little arrow icon bounces around without me touching the mousepad, opening the internet and typing in an address.
My pulse beats in my jaw, but I keep it together, knowing retribution is coming.
Vengeance will be mine. I’ve been playing nice up until now, assuming Wild is a fed, making sure I didn’t blow Willow’s cover.
But this is too far. This asshole is about to see what I can really do.
Cracking my knuckles, I sit down at my seat and open my secondary computer.
See what you can do about this, asshole.
With a few keystrokes, I’m in my mainframe.
This asshole thinks they can touch what’s mine.
Is in my fucking computer, my fucking tech, and my fucking peace.
When I figure out who it is, I’m going to fucking end them.
The search begins now.
“What do you want, Wild?” I ask, maintaining conversation to hopefully distract them from realizing I’m using back channels to locate the hole where they slipped in.
“I’m here to give you a gift, Hudson Vale Engel.” The use of my full name sends a shiver through me—it hasn’t been used since my time in the service.
“Don’t want it.” Click. Click. Click. I turn on some music to cover the tapping of keys.
“You’re not fooling me. But before you try whatever bullshit you’re about to, here’s the house you’ve been searching for.” My eyes jump to the other screen, a map with an address that looks like it’s in the mountains, in the middle of nowhere. Three hours away.
“Haven’t been looking for anything,” I lie, but curiosity gets the better of me, and I stop searching for my naughty hacker and focus on the gift.
“Don’t lie. We don’t have time for games, you imbecile.” Feisty. Part of me wants to play with this fed—amused to be cracking through their professional exterior. “I shouldn’t be giving you this. But Willow’s going into heat. She needs her stupid fucking scent-matches.”
Her words make my gut clench with worry. Willow’s a nice omega and going through a heat alone after bonding could be fatal.
“How do I know this isn’t a trap?” The dumb question falls out of my mouth, and I immediately want to pull it back.
“You don’t. But if I’m right about those knot-heads, they won’t care.” Is Wild not working for the government? The irritation comes through loud and clear, even with the voice distortion, and my heart starts to race. “Be a good boy, and do as you’re told. Thank me later.”
A deafening beep pierces the room, and the computer dims. A final chat box pops up on the screen.
WildHuntZ: Tell them. NOW. Or I will. TICK TOCK
The urgency puts me on edge. Jumping away from my desk, I send the address to my phone and rush to grab some sweatpants off my floor. There’s no time to find my cut or shoes.
My sides heave as I take off, out of the clubhouse, and toward Gytrash’s home. Phone in hand, I fire off a bunch of text messages. If this is real, we need to move quickly.
Only one ally MC can get us to Willow before time runs out.
“Hey. What’s going on?” Whelp charges forward as I fly across the yard, my thighs burn and my sides heave.
Gasping, “Get me Cujo.”