Enemy Under My Roof.
The gate went shut behind me. Something in my chest sank right with it. That sound didn’t leave room for any argument.
I looked around instead of staring at steel.
Nothing here matched the stories we were told.
Kids ran between two garages chasing a dog, I think. Screaming with laughter loud enough to sound across the yard. An old man sat on a crate with a carburetor in his lap. Muttering to himself. Two younger wolves argued behind him about torque settings, ignoring him completely. A woman walked past in coveralls hauling a toolbox nearly her own size. Nobody looked twice at her. Prospects scrubbed down a row of bikes near the wall. Somebody heckled them from the fence. Half insult, half something else. Sounded almost playful.
It looked like a town. Ordinary. Functioning. Minus the fact every person in it could tear your throat out under a full moon.
I grew up hearing Iron Fang described one way. Savages. Men who burned villages for sport. No families, because men like that didn’t have hearts to build one with.
Nobody mentioned kids.
That felt wrong in my stomach worse than anything else so far.
Ryker walked ahead through the yard. I watched the people around him instead of him.
Nobody bowed. Nobody dropped to a knee, the way I’d seen old Black Moon wolves grovel around my father for a favor. People just went about their business. Conversations cut off mid-sentence, nobody telling them to. A couple prospects nodded, quick, went right back to work. A woman called something out about a delayed shipment. He answered without slowing down. She looked satisfied and let it go.
Nobody flinched when he passed.
They looked proud.
I’d built this whole place in my head on fear holding it together. Some leash wrapped around every throat here. I couldn’t find the leash, just people who wanted to be here.
Hated how much that got under my skin.
A man fell in step beside him. Older than Ryker by ten years, maybe. Quiet in a way that felt deliberate. He looked me over once. Slow. No hostility I could find. Just weighing something.
“This the bride,” he said. Not a question.
“Aurora,” Ryker said. “Marcus Cole. My VP.”
Marcus didn’t offer his hand. “Heard you put a knife to his ribs on the way in.”
“Tried to,” I said.
Something crossed his face. Gone before I could name it. “Good instinct.”
He fell back before I could ask what that meant.
“Move.” A different voice, already grabbing for my wrist before I could pull away. “What did they do, drag you here by the arm?”
Sharp-eyed woman. Dark hair pinned back with a pencil stuck through it. She had my wrist turned over before I got a word out, thumb pressing right into the bruise Ryker’s grip left there. Her mouth went flat.
“Ivy,” Ryker said. Sounded like a warning.
“Don’t answer to you when somebody’s hurt.” Didn’t even look at him saying it. Already steering me toward a low building off to the side.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to pull back.
“You’re not. Don’t need your permission to know that.” Grip stronger than she looked. “Not letting the future Luna walk around with a wrist like this.”
“I’m not”
She cut me off without slowing. “Sit.”
I sat. Arguing wasn’t worth the effort right now.
She wrapped my wrist in something cold. Smelled like mint, something sharper underneath. Muttered the whole time about men who didn’t know their own strength. My mouth twitched anyway, listening to her talk about Ryker like an inconvenience instead of an Alpha.
“You’re not scared of him,” I said.
“Should I be? Still just a man under all that.” She didn’t look up. “Somebody’s got to remind him.”
I kept that to myself. Same as Marcus had filed whatever he decided about me.
Another man waited outside when Ivy let me go. Arms crossed. Built like a wall somebody forgot to put a door in. Scar cutting through one eyebrow. Jaw set hard enough I didn’t need him to say a word about how he felt.
“Jax,” Ryker said, at my shoulder like he’d been there the whole time. “Sergeant-at-Arms.”
Jax’s eyes moved over me once. Flat. Back to Ryker.
“This the arrangement.” Not a question either. Everyone here talked in statements.
“This is Aurora,” Ryker said.
Jax gave a short nod. Felt more like a warning than a greeting. Walked off toward the training yard without another word.
I felt something cold sit in my stomach I couldn’t name.
“He doesn’t like me,” I said.
“Doesn’t trust anyone from Black Moon. Give him time.”
“Wasn’t asking for reassurance.”
Something flickered at the corner of his mouth. Gone before I could decide if I understood it.
He led me up a staircase after that. I braced myself for a cell the whole climb. Bars or locked door with nothing in it.
Instead, a room that didn’t look like a prison at all.
Wide bed. Balcony doors open on the valley, mountains catching the last of the morning light. Clothes hanging in an open wardrobe already. Folded stacks on a chair by the window.
I spun on him. “You expected me.”
“Yes.”
Nothing else. No explanation. No apology. Just the word, sitting there like it should’ve been enough on its own.
“How long has this room been prepared for me.”
He didn’t answer that one at all.
I stood in the doorway. Refused to step through it. Some stubborn piece of me convinced crossing that line meant conceding to something.
He watched me for a moment. Patient in a way that got under my skin worse than anger would have.
“There are four rules while you’re here,” he said.
“Didn’t agree to rules.”
“Four rules.” Like I hadn’t spoken. “Don’t leave the compound alone. Don’t interfere with club business. Don’t threaten my people.”
A pause.
“Don’t mistake my patience for weakness.”
Never once raised his voice through any of it.
I stepped past him into the room. Close enough our shoulders nearly brushed. Looked him dead in the eye.
“You forgot rule five.”
He waited.
“Never turn your back on me.”
I shut the door in his face before he could answer.
Silence swallowed the hallway on the other side. I stood there, palm flat against the wood, listening for footsteps that didn’t come.
I searched the room the second I trusted the hallway was empty.
Closets first. Hands along every seam. Drawers next, pulled all the way out. Bathroom tile, tapped for anything hollow. Furniture flipped and checked underneath. Window latches. Balcony door frame.
Convinced there had to be a camera somewhere. Some device. Something that explained how a man I’d met twice already had this room here ready for me.
Found nothing like that.
Found something worse.
The wardrobe held a full set of riding gear. Leather jacket. Boots beside it. Gloves folded on the shelf above. Helmet resting on its own stand.
I pulled the jacket down. Checked the size out of habit.
Fit. Not close. Exact.
Boots fit too. Gloves snug across my knuckles.
Never gave anyone my measurements. Never been within a hundred miles of this compound before last night.
Cold worked down my spine that had nothing to do with the balcony air.
I sat down hard on the edge of the bed. Went back through everything. Exhausted. Furious. No answer that made sense. My eyes swept the room one more time out of pure stubbornness and stopped.
A black velvet box sat on the bedside table.
Hadn’t been there when I searched the room. I’d checked that exact spot twice.
Picked it up slow. Some instinct told me not to. Opened it anyway.
An antique silver ring sat inside. Two wolves engraved, facing each other beneath a crescent moon. Metal worn soft with age.
Tucked beneath it, a folded scrap of paper.
Four words. Nothing more.
Wear it before sunrise
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