Page 2 of Tender Wild

They were slaughtering.

Diablo’s face had gone hard, jaw muscles bunched tight beneath his skin.

“Let’s go. Nothing more we can do here,” Miguel muttered, already heading toward the exit.

“Yeah,” Diablo replied. The word came out flat and emotionless. Miguel knew better. Beneath that stoic mask, the wolf was reliving his own nightmare.

They moved quickly toward the exit. Diablo’s eyes never stopped scanning the warehouse, like he expected more bodies to materialize from the shadows.

The summer heat hit like a sledgehammer after the warehouse’s dank chill. Miguel yanked the bandana off his face. The air was clean and fresh after the stench of death, but it couldn’t wash away what they’d seen.

Their bikes waited outside, polished chrome reflecting the afternoon sun.

Diablo climbed onto his massive machine, a creation of shiny black metal and chrome with sharp, powerful lines that he’d crafted himself. The tires were thick, and the handlebars spread out extensively. The leather seat creaked as he settled his weight onto it.

Miguel swung his leg over his own cruiser, flinching at the heat against his jeans as he fired up the engine. “Someone’s using this place as a dumping ground.”

“Or a testing facility,” Diablo added, his eyes hollow. “Could’ve been me.”

No point arguing the truth. Miguel revved his engine, pebbles scattering under the tires as they put distance between themselves and the warehouse of horrors.

The road stretched ahead, a black ribbon slicing through overgrown fields, heat shimmering off the asphalt. Miguel’s T-shirt clung to his back under his leather jacket, sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades.

His thoughts drifted to Jared, to the way the cheetah had looked at him that night—curious, unafraid of his scars. For the first time since the accident, he hadn’t felt like a freak. Even after Jared left to return home, he kept in touch with Miguel, texting, calling, and sharing funny memes or chatting about his day. It had only been a week, but he already missed the cheetah.

A flicker of movement in his side mirror yanked him back to reality.

Four motorcycles, coming up fast.

“Damn it,” he said under his breath, accelerating slightly to pull alongside Diablo at the next stretch of straight road. “We’ve got company.”

Diablo’s gaze flicked to his own mirror. His expression told Miguel everything. The brother’s jaw was locked, eyes narrowed to slits, hands gripping the handlebars like he wanted to rip them off. He recognized that look. Diablo wasn’t scared. He was furious.

Miguel knew what the brother was itching to do—stop everything, throw punches, and rip them apart. But that wasn’t an option.

“Four of them,” Miguel said, voice raised over the engines. “Sportbikes.”

Diablo nodded once, throttling up. The road blurred beneath them as they picked up speed, wind battering Miguel’s face. He squinted against it, eyes watering slightly.

Another glance in the mirror confirmed what he feared. They were gaining. The sleek bikes ate up distance with ease, designed for speed in a way their cruisers weren’t.

“They’re gaining,” Miguel called out. He felt exposed. If these assholes caught them, if they had those tranquilizers...

One-handed, he pulled out his phone and fired off a text to Matias. SOS. He shared his location then hit send, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

Diablo said something, but the words were lost to the wind as he opened his throttle wider. Miguel followed suit, the bike’s engine growling in protest.

The speedometer climbed: seventy, eighty, eighty-five. Both bikes accelerated, engines screaming as they pushed past ninety. The sportbikes closed in, sleek and predatory compared to their heavier cruisers. Miguel felt his bike resist, too heavy for these speeds.

The road curved ahead, a long bend that would slow them down. Miguel downshifted, leaning into the turn. In his mirrors, the sportbikes handled the curve with ease. They were close enough now that Miguel could make out details—dark visors, lean bodies hunched over their tanks.

Had to be Hyenas.

Five miles to the town limits. The hyenas gained ground, their engines whining higher as they ate up the gap, gaining precious feet.

“We can’t outrun them,” Miguel shouted.

Diablo bared his canines and decelerated. What the fuck was he doing? With a curse, Miguel did the same.

---