When the Wolves Cry (Twin Flames Duet #1)

CHAPTER TEN

JAX

Slipping in through the old door, I’m greeted with slanted concrete floors that reek of mold. The brick walls are busted up and graffiti is spray painted everywhere in the abandoned warehouse.

I keep my steps light, stalking over the sketchy floor and towards the insistent chatter to my right.

These fucks are in the middle of a dog swap.

They’re cleaning the opponent’s dog off with milk to make sure they’re not coated in anything that could jeopardize the fight. Some bastards even try to use lube to make grappling more difficult.

Usually, I kill them the second I spot them. I’m going to try and get some information from these pieces of shit though.

Casually walking in, a spectator across the way spots me, fear flashing over his pimply face.

He smacks the larger guy’s chest next to him, alerting him of my uninvited presence.

“Sorry, bro! This one’s closed off!” the larger guy yells.

Both handlers stop cleaning their dogs—and all eyes fall on me.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a wad of cash and hold it up. “Two-K on Blue,” I say confidently, wanting to rip my own tongue out.

Eyes dart around and feet fidget, waiting for someone to speak up.

I stalk around, looking for whoever the fuck has the damn balls to say something. Finally, the man cleaning off the Red Nose stands up straight. “He’s abettin’ man. He can stay,” he talks tough, his body language saying otherwise.

I flash a fake smile. “Appreciate that. Who do we have here?” I ask, gesturing the cash towards the patient dogs.

Handlers love to gloat about their fighters.

Especially if they’re champions or top dogs. Makes themproudto have some fucking screws loose.

The chatter around me resumes, and the lanky man wiping down the scarred up Blue Nose grins ear to ear. He points over to the Red Nose. “That’s Zombie, he’s a mean motherfucker in the pit. Five-minute throat and chest. That son of a bitch has doubled what I spent on him. And he was not cheap, lemme tell you,” he says ardently.

“Ohh, I smell bullshit,” the man with Zombie chimesgutturally. He slips the thick chain over the dog’s head, walking him to his handler to swap back. “This is X, my champion. I haven’t had to beat the brakes off him yet, unlike Rob over there. X comes from top dog semen. So, naturally, he was born to be a top dog.”

I’m itching to shoot him in between the eyes. But he said something rather interesting.

“Damn, top dog, huh?” I ask, watching his eyes beam with excitement. “I’m new to the area, so I haven’t been able to find any fights worth a shit.”

“Silas White is the man that got me hooked up with X. He trains scrappers. Could hook you up too if you want his number,” he gleams.

Too easy.

“I’ll find him,” I say darkly.

The other man pats him on the back. “Stop talking about your fucking dog and let’s get thisgoin’. We have people waiting and bait that’s getting antsy.”

I was really hoping the small crate off on the side didn’t have live bait in it. These dogs are already trained fighters that have killed before. Bait isn’t typically used unless the fighters are inexperienced and need a push to get aggressive.

Shoving the cash back into my pocket, I ask, “If your dogs are as good as you say they are, why do you have bait?”

“Why not? Makes it more fun,” Rob chimes with a sick smile, hauling Zombie over the side of their makeshift pit.

It’s in the center of the massive, abandoned space, made up of plywood, maybe twenty square feet. It’s not the first fight the wood has seen given the big spots of burgundy.

The man with X chuckles, flashing wrinkled eyes at me. “You said you haven’t seen any fights worth a shit… Well, we got our hands on something that’s never been done before.Oughtacharge you an attendance fee for this crazy shit.”

My blood is sizzling under my skin having to remain cool and carry conversation with these pigs.

While they get the dogs straight, I casually glance around to find the perfect spot that will line me up to kill them as fast as possible.

I step up to the side of the pit, next to the pimply motherfucker that almost shit his pants when I walked in. He barely looks out of the corner of his eye, then darts his focus right back to the dogs.

Awfully scared for someone that gets entertainment from sick shows.

Some fool with glasses carries the crate into the pit, setting it down right in the center before opening the metal door.

The chatter and chants pick up, and I tunnel in on the black ball of fluff getting dragged out by the skin on its neck. My brows draw taut, and the dogs start getting riled up, growling and yanking the heavy chains in their handlers’ hands.

That’s not a fucking dog. That’s a wolf pup.

The man with X looks back with a shit eating grin, face turning red from holding back his powerful dog. “Yeah, buddy! A wolf!” he hollers.

The man that brought the wolf in picks the crate up and scurries out of the pit, giving me my line up back to me.

Pretending to get comfortable for the show, I take a single step back while reaching for my gun in the back of my waistband. All eyes are excitedly watching the dogs snarl and snap at the scared wolf pup. So, no one notices me whip it out and line it up to the dome to my left.

I pull the trigger, watching the bullet fly through the three heads that I lined my shot up on. While they all fall dead weight, I pivot to my right to the other three that are now alarmed and reaching for whatever weapon they brought.

I steady my arm, and easily fire off three shots in a row, hitting them all right in between the eyes.

Turning my sight to the pit, I see the dogs frantically pulling and bucking to break out of their chains. The man with X drops him, sending him darting around the pit, trying to escape. He throws his hands up, cowering like I might show him grace.

I don’t.

I smile, shooting the fucker in the dome. Hopefully he remembers the enjoyment I got out of his death when he faces the hellish damnation of his twisted actions.

I don’t know what the fuck Rob’s doing. He’s weaving around, dragging Zombie to the point of choking, just so he can try to escape.

Don’t worry, I don’t let him.

The second his leg lifts over the plywood, I line my sight up on his forehead and fire. He still has a tight grip on the chain with his choking dog right under him, toppling backwards as death pervades his body.

“Fuck,” I mutter, shoving my gun back into my waistband and flying over the plywood. I thunder through the pit, and at the very last goddamn second, I shove the idiot to the side, so he doesn’t break the dog’s back or kill him.

Even in death, he’s trying to abuse his dog.

I snatch the chain and pull it from his grip, creating slack so Zombie can finally take a fucking breath.

I stretch the slip chain out and pull it off his head. He’s panting frantically and anxiously licking his chomps. He doesn’t run off though, unlike X. I don’t know where he darted off to.

I quickly pet over his head, feeling the bald lines that vein through his short, red hair. “You’re alright, boy. Only grass and treats in your future,” I pacify, as if he understands.

He probably doesn’t know what those two words are. The only“fun”fighting dogs are allowed to have are high speed treadmills that are boarded up on the sides and spring poles to strengthen their jaws. Sometimes they make them haul heavy weights to build muscle mass. Because, you know, that’s so much goddamn fun for a dog to be forced to do.

I whistle for X, looking around the busted-up place for any sign of him. The sound of a heavy chain dragging across the concrete resounds through the musty space, and I spot him prancing in, possibly understanding that the fight is over.

And he didn’t have to kill anyone to receive that relief.

Knowing the dogs are good, I walk over to the shaking, timid wolf pup, crouching down to his level. His cloudy eyes kind of break my heart. He’s terrified of me, fully expecting me to inflict pain.

There’s a little gash on his nose and a few sticky spots of matted hair along his body. Other than that, he looks okay. He’s just scared.

I take the chains off the dogs, replacing them with the slip leashes from my hoodie pocket. “What’s going on, Leon?” I ask, crouching down and picking the wolf pup up.

Heunmuteshimself, the sounds of shrieking invading my damn ear. “Ah, well…”

My brows furrow. “Well what?”

“There’s fog everywhere, man. Nadia and I have been looking around for her.”

“God-fuckin-damn it, Leon!” I snap, picking up my damn pace to get out of here. “How did you lose her?”

Alarm is ringing in my bones, replacing the taste of victory with ash. I raise my leg, kicking down the shoddy door to get it the fuck out of my way, and I stride out.

“Uh… she got upset that you were in my ear and just wandered off into the fog.”

“Did you not think to go after her?”

If you want something done right—do it yourself.

Now here I am, having to rush their freedom walk to the truck because someone fucked up.

“I-I did, man. This fog is seeping into my eye-ah, wait… There she is. Looks like Maverick is chewing out some guy.”

I get the dogs in the back seat and close the door, heart hammering in my chest and making me breathe heavier than a damn bull. “And Tala is with them?” I question for clarity, holding onto the pup as I throw my ass into my seat and rip my phone out of my pocket.

She never did text me back earlier.

“Si, I’m approaching right now.”

I turn my truck on, noting the cleaning van pulling up next to me.

“What happened, mija? We’ve been trying to call you.”

I back out, trying to hear her response over the dogs panting behind my head. “I’m sorry. My phone died.”

Fuck, her voice sounds nice in my ear.

“If I see you around Tala again, a price will be on your head,” Maverick warns sharply.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Jax wants to know what happened,” Leon relays.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Tala rasps.

“No, it is a big deal,” Maverick cuts in and pisses me off.

No one should talk over her.

“They’re not supposed to touch anyone like that,” Maverick clips.

My face tightens in a white-hot rage. I pull the earpiece out of my ear and drop it into a cup holder. I don’t have time to find the fucker that touched her right now. I need to get the dogs to Dr. Zion and call Damascus Huxley.

Looking up Howling Haven’s number, I grow extra irritated seeing pictures of my little wolf at the sanctuary.

If I would’ve extended my research when moving here, I would’ve found my purpose for breathing a lot sooner.

Liam would have never had the chance to raise his hand.

I know that’s why she got nervous when the doorbell rang last night. She fully expected me to hit her.

Talk about a knife to the heart. Jesus, that stung.

I tap the number and push the call through, switching it to speakerphone. The droning dial tone only rings twice before he picks up. “ Howling Haven , this is Damascus,” he answers tiredly.

“I apologize for calling so late, sir. I have a wolf pup with minor visible injuries in my hands. Heard you were the man to go to for such a thing.”

“No apologies necessary, son. Time doesn’t exist when you’re doing what you love. So, bring ‘em on in. The lanterns will light your way.”

I slightly grin. “See you soon, sir.”

Haven’t heard anyone call mesonsince my father died.

The sanctuary isn’t too far off from Tala’s house. I’m sure she can hear the wolves on silent nights.

There’s a big wolf statue stationed in the middle of the circular drive for the Visitor Center. I roll past it, curious to know if it’s for Maiko or just a totem.

I keep straight, driving through the lanterns light to get to the gates of the haven. The pup in my lap has been balled up in an extra hoodie I had in here. He must like it. The dude’s been tuckered out.

I come to a stop in front of the massive, wooden gates, throwing my door open to a chilling symphony of the wolves crying.

It perks the little dude’s ears up.

I grin, holding onto him while getting out of my truck.

Mechanisms hum, rolling open the creaky wood that could use a refresh. I look around, trying to spot cameras, flood lights, anything that could ward off greedy hands.

Nothing.

The gates open up to tan skin and overgrown, black hair. He smiles brightly, still in today’s work jeans and boots with a big ass white wolf by his side.

“Evening, sir,” I say respectfully, heading in his direction.

I don’t get this close to the wolves I feed. They sit in the clearing and wait for me to roll the body parts to them.

“Good evenin’,” he smiles, stretching his arms out for the pup. “Let me see this little guy.”

I cup under his stomach, lifting him out of the hoodie and passing him over. Damascus has a twinkle in his eyes as he checks him out.

“My daughter is gonna lose her mind over you. You wanna take a walk with me, son?”

I’m in the place where Tala grew up. Absolutely, I do.

“Yes, sir.” I walk inside the gates, looking around while he smacks a red button to close the large wood.

It’s incredible. Gravel paths take course in every direction with a lot of trees to fill any voids. They have boulders for the wolves to climb up on, wooden houses for shelter. I even see a big ass tree house tucked into a cluster of trees a few yards away.

“Where’dyou find him?” Damascus asks, leading the way to a cabin.

“He was about to be used as bait for a dogfight.”

“You’re kidding,” he scoffs in disbelief. I shake my head. I’m not ajokester. “They just handed him over?” he asks quizzically.

“No, sir. I killed them.”

I observe him, waiting to see a flash of panic. But he just purses his lips in fairness and nods.

Interesting.

He pushes open the door to the cabin, and I walk in after him and the white wolf. I just admitted to murder, so I don’t know if I should close the door or not. I do, keeping my distance so that I don’t freak him out.

Setting the pup down on the exam table and reaching over to roll the IV stand closer, he asks, “You by chance know anything about cameras?”

“I’d say so,” I say modestly with a slight grin.

“I might need to jot your number down and give you a ring sometime. We had some loony bastards show up here a month ago and it unsettled me.” He sighs, concentrating on sticking the IV in the pup.

The white wolf sits down next to me, boring into my soul with pretty, yellow eyes. “You can call me anytime. I know Tala. So, I know about Pyro trying to buy the wolves. I’ve been trying to find the fucker… And I think I know who it is.”