I was standing by the large window in my workshop, staring out at the sky. My knuckles were bruised and stinging from a job I’d finished earlier that evening, but I barely felt it. I felt restless. I felt like a wolf pacing the length of a cage that was getting smaller by the second.
Behind me, Jax was leaning against a cluttered workbench. He was tossing a heavy brass lighter up and down, the clack sound echoing in the quiet room. He was my right hand, the only person in this town I trusted to keep his head when things got ugly.
"We have a problem at the north border, Killian," Jax said. He stopped tossing the lighter and looked at me. "The local crew is pushing in. They think because we’ve been quiet lately, we’ve gone soft. They’re trying to move their shipments through our woods agai
