She whirled on Ian, latching his arm desperate, eyes blazing fever-bright. "Ian... you're all I've got left."
One word in—his snarl cut her dead. "Don't touch me!"
Ian ignored the heartbreak cracking her face, prying her claws off digit by digit. "Clara, our ledger? We'll balance it slow."
His glare swept the Quinn pack. "Snag those strays upstairs. Quinns? Nobody bolts. You're all leashed till dawn."
Ian peeled out of the manor, paws flying over Tina's number the whole haul home.
Dead tone droned on loop—mech-voice ice, wrapping panic tight around his ribs like barbed wire.
He white-knuckled the wheel, gunning harder—blasted a yellow, tires screaming, nearly fishtailing into the guardrail from sheer speed.
Screech—brakes locked, jolting curb-side. Heart hammering wild, hawk-eyes bl
