Page 99 of Rocky Top

Birdie was ahead of me, runnin’ through the brush like she’d done it a thousand times. Her senses weren’t fully wolf yet, but they were damn close.

I followed, paws poundin’ the earth, blood boilin’.

Emma was out there.

And no one fucked with my family and lived to brag about it.

We found them near the old river crossing, deep in the pines where the trees grow so thick sunlight barely touches the moss.

I heard herscream before I saw her.

Ain’t nothin’ in this world that'll hollow a man out faster than the sound of a little girl screamin’.

Especially when she ain’t just any little girl—she’s Emma. Eliza’s baby. My president’s future stepdaughter. Family.

It echoed across the Smoky foothills like a bullet ricocheting through bone, sharp enough to slice through engine growl and wind and even my own goddamn heartbeat.

That son of a bitch.

Brent had always smelled like dog shit. I’d scented him once before, back when he first came sniffin’ ‘round again. We’d run him out of Knoxville, but clearly he’d crawled back like the roach he was.

And this time, he had Flint with him.

My wolf bristled.

Flint—our Flint—was a goddamn traitor.

He’d played us all, smilin’ that slick smile and actin’ like he gave a damn about the club. And now? He’d delivered Emma into Brent’s hands like a sacrificial lamb.

Flint had a shotgun slung across his chest. Brent had Emma in his arms, holdin’ her like she was some kind of goddamn bargaining chip.

“Put her down,” I growled, comin’ outta the brush in human form again, blood boilin’.

Birdie was at my side, her shift fading, but her eyes still bright with instinct.

Brent sneered. “Ain’t this sweet? Y’all come runnin’ like dogs to the slaughter.”

“You’ve got one chance,” I said, steppin’ forward. “Hand her over.”

I looked at Emma. Her eyes were wide, lip quivering, but she didn’t cry.

“You don’t put the girl down,” I said slowly. “And you’ll find out what kinda monster I really am.”

Flint stepped in, flashing his weapon.

“You fuckin’ traitor. You were one of us.”

Flint smirked. “Brent offered somethin’ better.”

“You sold out your family for what? Table scraps from a rat like him?”

Brent snarled. “You don’t get to talk. You’re a fuckin’ monster, Rock. You think we don’t know what you did? In that prison yard?”

“The yard,” Flint hissed. “You slunk in there in fur and fangs and tore Mark apart like a fuckin’ beast. Left nothin’ but bones and blood.”

“Mark kidnapped Eliza and Emma. He hurt his little girl. He was scum. Same about to happen to you.”

“He was my brother!” Brent roared, eyes wild like he was gonna shift. But he was holding onto his leverage, Emma. Couldn’t shift without letting the girl go.

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