The glass of tequila was in my hand one second and gone the next, the liquid fire doing nothing to quell the inferno in my chest.

The slam of the empty glass on the table was a gunshot in the tense silence of the war room.

“Mobilize the Enforcers! I want the toughest squad we have, ready to roll out in five minutes!” My voice wasn't a shout; it was a roar that echoed off the stone walls, a sound torn from the very core of my being.

The sea of pack members gathered in the Grand Avenue didn't just hear me; they felt it. A unified, guttural roar answered...