Chapter Eight
Stepping out of the cold and into the barn, Azrael breathed in warmth and the layered scent of pine, cookies, and coffee—the sharp sweetness of the season.
Beneath it lingered the quieter notes of leather, smoke, and the faint warmth of clove lingering in the air, anchoring the space in the life they lived.
Heat rolled off the walls, chasing away the last trace of winter air clinging to his jacket. Through the frosted window, the flash of the security lights cut white across the snow, steady and unrelenting.
Azrael shouldered the barn door shut with Boston and Sage pressing in beside him. The heavy latch caught, muffling the roar of wind and snow outside.
“Let’s move,” Syx said, stalking forward as he slid his sidearm back into its shoulder holster.
“What’s the transport situation?” Boston asked, glancing toward Azrael.
“None of you are going out there,” Azrael said, raising his voice over the storm that still battered the walls.
“Why not?” Syx scowled.
“Because, first—I gave you an order. And second, a strong wind could blow any one of us over,” Azrael shot back, squinting as something rattled in the gusts outside.
He met Syx’s storm-blue gaze head-on and held it. He understood the man’s frustration—hell, he felt it too. Every instinct in him screamed to be out there with Real. But he also knew what that would do—Real would be too focused on him to do his job. And that was the last damned thing Azrael wanted.
So Real was heading out with Stone, Dave, Rip, and Law. Crow, Black, and Winter would stay behind to protect the house.
Five lives out there, and only three snowmobiles between them.
The barn door slammed open, caught by the wind, and Rebel stumbled inside in a blast of cold. Sage and Syx moved fast, helping him wrestle it shut before the latch caught. The wind’s howl dulled to a muffled roar against the walls.
“The last thing they need is one of us getting lost,” Azrael said, turning back to his team, his voice lower now.
“Syx, Beck—you’re the biggest among us. If you want to go, you can, but there’s only room for one on the back of the third snowmobile.
” He started working the buttons on his coat, each movement precise, controlled.
“You’d better hurry,” Rebel said into the tense silence. “They’re pulling out any minute.”
Azrael crossed to the large heater, its low hum filling the quiet between them.
Rebel was only nineteen—just a year younger than him—but carried the air of a leader.
Holding his hands above the vent, Azrael rubbed them together, chasing off the last of the chill.
One by one, the others drifted closer until they formed a loose circle around the heat, boots scuffing lightly against the dusty barn floor.
Micah stood a little apart, dark hair loose around his shoulders, watching the others with that quiet focus of his. He didn’t say much, but Azrael caught the faint twitch of a smile when Freedom started pacing again.
“You’re gonna wear a groove in the floor,” Micah murmured, voice soft but edged with amusement.
Freedom froze mid-step, curls bouncing as he scowled. “I can’t help it. Sitting still feels wrong when they’re out there.”
“We all feel it,” Azrael said, steady but kind. “But we stay ready. That’s how we help them.”
“This sucks,” Boston grumbled, dropping onto one of the benches near the heater. His hands wouldn’t stay still, dark hair falling into eyes just as dark.
“I know. Believe me, I know.” Azrael met his gaze and gave a small grimace. He understood—Boston hated sitting out. But right now, the kid was more worried about Rip than himself.
“They’re tough. Strong as hell,” Rebel said, settling beside Azrael and holding his palms over the heat.
“Yeah. Every one of those guys is built like a tank,” Azrael agreed.
“Hell yeah, they are,” Aspen added as he came closer. Instead of taking the bench, he perched on a round barrel, arms folded.
As usual, Ocean chose higher ground—hopping up onto the table and folding his legs beneath him. “How will we know if they get into trouble?”
“Trust me,” Azrael said, voice steady. “With those five, they’ll be fine.”
The heater hummed, the barn filled with quiet warmth, and for a moment, it almost felt true.