As the last SUV disappeared around the bend, dust hanging like a ghost in the silence, Finnegan didn't relax. He turned sharply to the perimeter guards emerging from the tree line, weapons drawn but useless now.
"Lock the gates!" he yelled, voice cracking with the force of the adrenaline dump. "Double the patrol. Triple it. And do not—I repeat, do not—let anyone in. If a squirrel crosses that line, I want to know about it!"
The guards nodded, scrambling to secure the gates. Finnegan watched them work. The wolf inside him was still pacing, still hungry. It had tasted the hunt and wanted blood.
Damon appeared at his shoulder, shotgun lowered but ready.
Finnegan didn't wait to see it done. He looked at Jax, and something wordless passed between them—a recognition of what they'd both almo
