Chapter 17: The Storm Breaks
The silence between them stretched like a wire about to snap. Sofia's grey eyes held Duncan's, her lips parted, the question already forming on her tongue. Duncan's hand pressed flat against his stomach, a motion so small he hoped she'd mistake it for a cramp, a twitch of fatigue. Her gaze dropped to his fingers, then climbed back to his face, and he saw the calculation there, the slow turning of a lock.
The radio on Reese's belt screamed.
Static first, a burst of white noise that made the whole hall flinch. Then a voice, dry as old bone, crackling through the speaker. "Iron Howl. We see your little clubhouse from the ridge. Your fence is already crossed. We're coming to collect what your omega owes us."
Reese fumbled for the radio, his hands shaking so bad he nearly dropped it. The transmission cut to silence, then a laugh, low and cruel, before the static died.
Jared's chair scraped backward across the concrete floor before the echo of the voice faded. He was on his feet, amber eyes blazing, the air in the room suddenly thick with the weight of his alpha presence. "Everyone on the yard. Now. Cole, you and Danny take the east fence. Marcus, get the bikes running. Sofia, arm the front doors."
The pack moved like a single animal startled from sleep. Chairs toppled, boots hammered, voices overlapped in sharp, clipped commands. Duncan rose from his seat, his legs unsteady beneath him, the nausea rolling in his gut with a new and terrible urgency. He kept his hand on his stomach, pressing hard, as if he could hold the secret inside his own body.
Reese stood frozen, the radio still clutched in his white-knuckled grip. Jared crossed the room in three strides and took the radio from him, not gently. "How many on the fence?" he barked into it.
The speaker crackled. "Enough."
Jared's jaw tightened. He threw the radio onto the table, where it skittered and came to rest against a dented coffee mug. "They've already made their move," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We're not going to meet them on the road. We defend the clubhouse."
Danny shouted something from the door, already halfway out. Marcus's heavy footsteps thundered toward the garage. The hall emptied around them, leaving Jared and Duncan in a pocket of stillness while the storm gathered just beyond the walls.
Jared turned to him, and Duncan saw the question in his eyes before it reached his mouth. The alpha swept his gaze over Duncan's face, reading something there, some trace of the truth that Duncan had tried so hard to bury. "You're white as a sheet," Jared said. "Stay inside."
"No."
The word came out sharper than Duncan intended, but he didn't take it back. He stepped forward, forcing his spine straight, forcing the tremor from his hands. "They tracked me here. They're coming for me. I'm not going to hide in a room while your pack fights a war I started."
Jared's nostrils flared. His hands came up, cupping Duncan's face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones with a gentleness that belied the rage simmering just beneath his skin. "You didn't start this. They chose to come. And if anything happened to you, I'd burn the whole valley to ash."
Duncan's throat tightened. The nausea rolled again, sharp and undeniable, and he had to swallow hard against the urge to gag. He pulled back slightly, pressing a hand to his mouth, and saw Jared's eyes narrow.
"Duncan." Jared's voice was low, careful. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just the adrenaline. I'm fine."
"You've been saying that for two days."
Duncan forced a smile, thin and unconvincing. "Maybe I just like saying it."
Jared held his gaze for a long moment. The yard outside erupted with the roar of motorcycle engines, boots on gravel, the sharp bark of Marcus snapping orders. The Coyotl were coming, and every second of delay was a second they couldn't afford.
But Jared didn't move. His thumb caught the corner of Duncan's mouth, a gesture so tender it made Duncan's chest ache. "When this is done," Jared said, "we're going to talk. About whatever it is you're hiding from me."
Duncan's heart stopped. For a breath, he thought Jared already knew. The alpha's amber eyes bore into him, and Duncan felt the weight of that gaze like a physical thing, searching, seeking, peeling back the layers he'd so carefully constructed.
Then Jared released him, stepping back, squaring his shoulders. "Stay close to Sofia. If the yard falls, you two take the north wall and don't stop running."
"I'm not running anywhere," Duncan said.
Jared's mouth curved, a dark and wolfish smile. "I know. That's what scares me."
He turned and strode for the door, his boots heavy on the concrete, the pack sigil on his vest catching the dim light. The yard outside was a blur of movement, bodies and machines and the sharp metallic scent of guns being loaded. Duncan stood alone in the emptied hall, his hand still pressed to his stomach, the radio on the table giving a last, dying crackle of static.
The two threats collided inside him: the war coming for the pack, and the secret growing in his own body. Both demanded to be acknowledged, both could tear him apart if he chose wrong.
He took a breath. He steadied his hands. Then he followed Jared into the night.