Shermaine had given Molly a heads-up about her trip to Loang. Molly had originally planned to pick her up at the airport until she found out Shermaine wasn’t flying in at all. So instead, she decided to wait for her at the bar.

The bar belonged to Molly, a place she frequented. Since the assassination attempt three days ago, she no longer left the house without security.

That evening, a sleek sports car pulled up outside the entrance. Before the engine cut off, the white wolf at her side had already jumped out.

“Get back here,” Molly called firmly.

Roy paused, turning back with clear reluctance.

He didn’t understand why she was visiting a bar, but he didn’t like it. Places like this were crawling with men who’d love nothing more than to get close to her for the wrong reasons.

Even if he no longer believed he deserved to be with her, it didn’t mean anyone else did. That possessiveness ran deep in his bones, and it was getting harder to suppress.

Reluctantly, Roy jumped back into the car. Molly shut the door behind him and locked it. “If you come with me, you’ll cause a scene. Stay in the car and be good.”

Roy whined in protest.

He lifted a paw and tugged at Molly’s sleeve, clearly unhappy about being left behind.

Molly sighed. He really did remind her of Roy, always needy and trying to win her over with those pitiful eyes. She reached over and scratched behind his ears. “Come on, don’t be like that. Just wait here.”

She hadn’t planned to bring him at all, but he’d followed her to the car and refused to leave.

She didn’t have time to argue, so she gave in.

“Awoo!” Roy whined again, this time more insistent, his snout pushing against her shoulder.

He was trying to charm her, clearly wanting to go inside with her. Then, before she could stop him, he leaned forward and licked her neck.

Molly flinched. His tongue was rough, the barbs on it catching her skin. It stung enough to leave a tiny red mark, even drawing a few beads of blood.

Roy instantly froze.

He had been gentle, or so he thought. He’d even retracted the barbs. And still, he’d hurt her. The sight of that red spot made something twist inside him.

He shrank back, curling into the seat like a scolded dog, ears flat and body rigid with guilt.

Molly wiped the blood away with a tissue, unconcerned. The mark was minor. By tomorrow, it would be gone. Her skin healed fast, and scarring was rare. A bit of ointment tonight, and it would leave no trace.

Still, the location of the mark, just beneath her jawline, was hard to ignore. The redness lingered, unmistakably intimate, like a lover’s bite.

She didn’t dwell on it. She reached out again and scratched behind his ears. “I’m not upset. Why are you?”

What she hadn’t expected was that this wolf really understood. The fact that he was genuinely upset about hurting her meant something.

But Roy stayed huddled, silent. In this form, he couldn’t even get close to her the way he wanted to.

Molly leaned down and pressed a kiss to his head. “Don’t be sad, Roy. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Roy’s ears twitched. Just that little bit of affection from her was enough to make his entire body come alive. He let out a happy growl and rubbed against her, almost knocking her off balance.

Molly laughed, breathless from his enthusiasm. She placed a hand on his head, eyes dark and searching. “You really do feel like him…”

Roy froze, lifting his gaze to hers.

He knew exactly who she meant, and the ache in his chest deepened.

After a pause, Molly pulled herself together. “Stay in the car, okay? Don’t wander off. I mean it.” She cracked a window before she left, just enough to keep the air moving so he wouldn’t feel stuffy inside.

Roy watched miserably as she disappeared into the bar. He was restless, fighting the urge to charge in after her and drag her back out. He scratched at the window a few times in frustration.

Deep claw marks marred the bulletproof glass. Roy saw what he’d done and immediately retracted his paw, curling back into the seat in defeat, waiting for Molly to return.

After Molly entered the bar, the bodyguards found seats without much thought.

She, however, asked the manager to bring out the finest selection of spirits. That night’s shift happened to be covered by one of the top bartenders in all of Ustrana.

Shermaine had always had a taste for alcohol. On that point, they clicked immediately.

Molly sent her a message: [How far out are you?]

Shermaine: [Ten minutes.]

Molly: [Good drinks are waiting.]

Shermaine: [Love that.]

They chatted beneath the low lights and pulsing rhythm of the bar, the music deep and visceral, as if designed to draw out hidden desires and let them dissolve in the night’s intoxication.

Then, a man approached, someone from Bruce’s side. A bodyguard moved to intercept him, but Molly gestured slightly.

“Let him through,” she said.

The man came forward, speaking plainly. “Bruce has gone missing.”

Molly’s brows drew together. “When?”

“Two days ago.”

“And you’re telling me now?”

“We tried earlier,” he replied. “But your mother intercepted the message. Without the proper token, we can’t mobilize anyone from the organization to search for him.”

“I’ll authorize access,” Molly said. “Keep me informed.”

“Yes, Ms. Hill.”

He tipped his hat and disappeared into the crowd.

Roughly six minutes passed, though to Roy, waiting in the car, it felt like a lifetime.

Then, outside, a woman’s scream cut through the night. She was being dragged into a car by a group of men. No one moved to help.

Incidents like this were far too common overseas.

Roy hadn’t planned to get involved until he caught a glimpse of her. She looked like someone from Wallington.

With a single blow, he shattered the sports car’s window and slipped out.

The road was wide and open. He ran hard, gaining on the car.

Pedestrians gasped, turning to watch.

His speed nearly matched the vehicle’s.

The driver glanced in the mirror, spotted what looked like a wolf in pursuit, cursed, and floored the gas.

Roy launched himself into the air, landing squarely on the roof.

Then he dropped into the driver’s line of sight, blocking the windshield.

Blinded, the driver panicked. The car veered and slammed into a wall. Smoke rose from the crumpled hood.

Several rough-looking men spilled out, brandishing pipes and knives. But the moment Roy bared his fangs, they fled in fear.

The woman inside wasn’t conscious, her face pale, breath faint. They’d likely given her something.

The vehicle was still operational. Roy spotted a man’s jacket in the back. He grimaced at the strong stench of smoke, but still draped it over his legs as he slid into the front seat.

The car lurched, then sped off.

Roy shifted back into human form, took the wheel, and drove.

Meanwhile, on Shermaine’s end, a message came through. Apocalypse had spotted Roy.

They’d sent a satellite image of Roy behind the wheel of a car, and the location was Loang.