Page 53 of Bear Hunt

Bear

“You will find her or you will die trying.” I keep repeating this new mantra to the man in the mirror. From the tightness in his facial muscles to the wild glint in his dark brown eyes, I barely recognize him.

“You. Will. Find. Her.” What other options do I have? None. That’s the only viable ending to this fucked up story.

Pressing my palms to the bathroom cabinet, my fingers curling around the lip, I close my eyes and go over the plan we started hashing out last night. Sarge was elaborate in his tactics, but the gist of the mission is straightforward: go in, kill anyone who gets in your way, get Athena out, kill anyone who gets in our way, then get the fuck off the property.

It sounds simple but a million things could go wrong. The property looked huge on the blueprints we studied last night, but the good thing about your target being paranoid is the limited number of exits. There are two, and we’ve already got eyes on the entrances keeping us up to date.

Someone’s in the house, we know this for sure. The lights go on and off in different rooms, the television flickers in the upstairs room, and guards are stationed on ten hour shifts, rotating between inside and outside. I guess no one can survive being out there for more than a couple of hours, I don’t care how well dressed they are.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that the loud bang at the door has my heart rate spiking.

“Yeah.” I call out once, but realize it’s not loud enough, so I repeat myself.

When the door swings open, I turn from the mirror and look at my best friend standing in the door jamb.

“You ready for this?” He’s not taking this situation lightly, he knows what it feels like to have someone important in harm’s way.

“Were you when Mac was taken?” It’s not really a non-answer, I’m curious because I don’t fucking feel ready, at all.

“Not even a little bit. There’s no gettin’ ready for this shit, brother. We have the intel, we have the means, I guess now we need the hardcore focus. That’s the difference.” He’s right. Psycho has the capacity to zero in on one goal and fucking destroy everything around him to get to it.

That’s what I need to do too. Focus and get shit done.

“Yeah, get shit done is right.” That’s exactly what I needed, the Psycho pep talk.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that we’re all down at the mess hall, Sarge’s words not mine, getting a high-protein breakfast.”

I blink a couple of times, my brain trying to catch up with my ears.

“I guess that’s what happens when you go on a mission with the military.” I mean, we’re no slackers before going all barrels drawn, but we don’t prep with an Olympian’s breakfast either.

“Ain’t gonna lie, I’m not upset about steak and eggs as my first meal.” Psycho rubs his belly and grins like a madman. “Breakfast of fucking champions.” To top it all off, he does a poor rendition of the Marine Corps oohrah before slapping me on the shoulder and jogging right out the door.

That motherfucker ain’t always right in the head, but I can’t deny that getting some protein before we face that fucking weather outside is sounding real good right about now.

With that thought, my head swivels to the right, and as if the universe is trying to tell me something, the light dims a little outside and the sky opens up to a curtain of heavy snowflakes.

Goddamn, this shit is no joke.

With one last look in the mirror behind me, I repeat my mantra for my girl.

“You will find her, or you will die trying.” Then I nod and follow my brother out the door, ready for battle. Ready to bleed. Ready for any-fucking-thing as long as it involves getting my girl back into my arms where she’ll be safe.

Where our compound is an old, renovated internment house, this place looks like a ranch with bunk houses spread all around the main house. I’m no bettin’ man—unless I know I’m gonna win—but if I had to guess, I’d say one of the brothers inherited his parents’ ranch and donated it to the club.

It’s nice, that’s for sure. Only problem for me is having to actually step outside to join the guys at the clubhouse. Or the main house, as they call it.

Gotta be fifteen below right now and I’m not gonna lie, we do not have the clothes for this shit.

As soon as I hop onto the wrap-around porch, my booted feet hit the wooden floor and I stomp out the snow stuck to my soles.

“There he is!” When I look up, the front door is open and I’ve got a straight-eye shot to the long-ass table where all the SOKbrothers and sister are stuffing their faces with food. I swear to fuck, they better leave something for me.

“Come on, brother. Let’s get some food in ya. Tonight’s gonna be hard and you need to be on top of your game.”

I grunt in agreement as Tank leads me inside.

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