It was the kind of job no sane person would take — a break-in at a private vault reinforced with silver, guarded by men who knew what they were protecting. You weren’t even sure why the Sons wanted it… just that it was important enough for them to risk their own necks.

The plan was simple: you’d slip inside through the narrow vent shaft, small and fast in wolf form, grab the package, and get out before anyone knew you were there.

Standing in the shadows behind Teller-Morrow, you watched as a group of leather-clad wolves prepped for the run — blades strapped to thighs, eyes flashing in the moonlight. The Alpha, blond and commanding, handed you a small black pouch.

“Get it. Don’t open it. And whatever happens — don’t get caught.”

There was an unspoken or else hanging in the air.

Juice smirked as he started your bike, ready to follow you to the drop point. “You sure about this, pup?” he teased, voice edged with something more than humor.

You weren’t. But the way the entire pack’s attention settled on you as the moon climbed higher told you there was no turning back now.