Page 142 of Moonlight & Mayhem

“He was my father,” he reminded.

“He was still a man,” she said.

“He was Alpha,” Chrome admitted.

“Still a man,” Chris said. Chrome didn't know what to say. Chris looked back toward the trees. “You survived.”

“Yeah, barely,” he said.

“I'm glad.” Two words; that was all it took to make his fucking chest hurt. I'm glad. Chrome stepped closer before he could stop himself, and Chris looked up at him. Their eyes met, and snow landed in her hair. He reached out, stopped, and Chris looked at his hand, and then at him. Chrome slowly brushed the snowflake away, and she didn't move. His fingers grazed her hair, and her wolf rose. He felt it. It wasn’t a bond, not exactly, but something changed between them. Chris inhaled sharply, and Chrome's wolf slammed forward. Ours. Fuck. Chris's eyes flashed wolf-gold, and for one heartbeat, neither of them moved. The clubhouse door opened.

“Chris,” Tempest said. Christmas stepped away from him, and Chrome immediately missed her warmth, which was ridiculous. Tempest stood in the doorway. “We've got a problem.”

Chris's VP expression returned instantly. “What?”

“Someone breached the garage,” Tempest said. Chrome's wolf surged, and they both moved. Inside the garage, the overhead lights were on, and Red stood near Chris's motorcycle with her gun drawn. Moon and Mayhem were beside her, and Chrome stopped. Another package sat on the motorcycle seat. It was smaller this time, with white wrapping and a red ribbon. Christmas swore, and Tempest looked at Chrome.

“You recognize this shit?” Tempest asked.

“No.” Chris walked toward the bike, and Chrome caught her arm. She looked down and then back up at him. He expected an argument; instead, she waited.

Moon moved closer to the box. “I’m not having any visions.”

“That doesn't mean it’s safe,” Chrome said.

“I know,” Moon said.

Mayhem grabbed a long metal tool from the workbench. “Could poke it.”

Moon stared at him. “What, no,” she said.

“Just a suggestion,” Mayhem said. Chris pulled her arm free, and Chrome let her. She approached the bike. A card was tucked beneath the ribbon with one word⁠—

CHROME

His stomach dropped, and Chris looked at him. “Your turn.” Chrome approached the bike, but he didn't touch the box. He didn't need to, because he knew what was inside. He could smell it—old leather, smoke, cedar, and something he hadn't smelled in twelve years. His brother.

“No.”

Chris stepped beside him. “What?” Chrome stared at the box. His hands began shaking. Fuck. He curled them into fists, but Chris noticed anyway. She always noticed. “Chrome.” He reached for the ribbon, and this time, she caught his wrist.

His eyes snapped to hers. “Could be a trap,” she said. They were his own words. Under any other circumstance, he would have smiled, but right now, he couldn't.

“It's not,” he insisted.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Because I know what's inside,” he said.

“How?” Chrome couldn't answer. Chris released him slowly, and he opened the box. Inside was an old leather bracelet—cracked and worn. A silver wolf tooth hung from the center, and Chrome stared at it. The garage disappeared, and he was eighteen again, sitting beside Elias on the roof of their father's house. Elias tossed him the bracelet.

Keep it.

Why?

Because you're always stealing my shit anyway.

Chrome swallowed. He'd buried that bracelet with his brother. He knew he had. His hands shook harder, and Chris touched his back. Just once, steadying him. Chrome picked up the bracelet and found a folded note that lay beneath it. He opened it and found his brother's handwriting. Chrome would have known it anywhere. There were only three words.