The Bitter Tang
598 Words
The heavy metal door of The Broken Fang clicked shut behind them, sealing the trio inside a den of low murmurs and thick smoke.
Zamani took a slow, deliberate breath, filtering through the stench of stale ale and damp fur. The bitter, metallic tang of lead-lining was faint, but to her hyper-vigilant senses, it was as loud as a siren. It drifted from a private corridor at the back of the bar, heavily guarded by two massive, scarred bouncers.
Beside her, Douglas was a ticking time bomb. His towering frame was completely rigid, his shoulders squared as his amber eyes scanned the room like an apex predator evaluating prey. His raw Alpha aura radiated off him in waves, thick enough to make the wolves nearest to the door visibly shudder and slide out of their booths.
"They know we're here," Douglas muttered, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that barely carried over the bar’s gritty music. "And they know what I am."
"Which is exactly why you're going to sit at the bar, buy a drink, and look pretty," Zamani whispered sharply, stepping directly into his line of sight to break his intimidating stare. "If you march back there looking like an invading king, the source will vanish before you can blink."
Douglas’s eyes flared a brilliant, warning gold. He leaned down, his face inches from hers, his hot breath brushing her cheek. "You have exactly five minutes, rogue. If you aren't back, I'm burning this place to the ground with everyone inside it."
That same electric, static spark flared between them, a sudden jolt of intense heat that made Zamani’s breath hitch. She forced herself to look away, ignoring the way her body wanted to lean into his suffocating proximity.
"Five minutes is more than enough," she retorted, her voice dropping to a defiant whisper.
As she turned toward the back corridor, Paul stepped into her path with an easy, calculated grace. He didn't look bothered by the hostile glares from the crowd. Instead, he reached out, his long fingers gently adjusting the damp hood of her jacket. His touch was cool, entirely different from Douglas’s burning spark, but his eyes were sharper than a razor.
"Be careful, Zamani," Paul murmured, his voice a smooth, intimate purr. "The man running the back rooms is Silas. He doesn't trade in information unless the price is paid in blood or secrets. Don't give away anything we can't afford to lose."
"I've handled Silas before, Beta Smith," Zamani said, slipping past him with a quiet, sharp wit. "Just make sure your Alpha doesn't start a war while I'm gone."
Paul let out a soft, low chuckle, his gaze tracking her every movement as she walked away. He turned back to Douglas, leaning casually against the bar counter. "She’s magnificent, isn't she? A complete enigma. Watch the room, Douglas—our little rogue is about to stir up a hornet's nest."
Zamani approached the two bouncers at the back door. They stepped forward, their chests puffing out, but before they could speak, she caught the eye of the man sitting in the shadows of the private booth beyond them.
Silas.
She caught the distinct scent of lead-lined weapon cases wafting directly from the crate at his feet. She was inches away from the ashwood, but as Silas raised his glass to her with a dark, knowing smirk, Zamani realized the trap hadn't just been set in the Silver Ridge armory. It was waiting for her here, too.
- Writer
