Chapter 66 Terms of Trust
Kier’s POV
She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, watching us like she’d already won. “Ten million,” she repeated. “Or I walk.”
Jaxon was the first to move. He turned toward me, expression unreadable. “We should talk. Privately.”
“Fine,” I said. “Stay put.”
She smirked, tapping a manicured nail on the table. “Where would I go?”
We stepped into the adjoining conference room, the soundproof door hissing shut behind us. For a second, the silence pressed hard between me and Jaxon.
He leaned against the table, arms folded. “We don’t have a choice.”
“We always have a choice,” I snapped.
“She’s our only lead, Kier. You saw the footage—Sam’s gone dark. The van’s off-grid, and the tech team can’t get a trace on his phone. If she knows where this Moon Den is, we take it.”
“She’s a liar.” I said it flatly. “She’s rogue. She reeks of it. She’s been paid before—by him, by others. You think ten million makes her honest?”
“I think desperation makes people do stupid things,” he shot back. “And I think she’s scared. Scared people talk if they think you’ll listen.”
I paced the length of the table, my reflection dragging across the glass like a second ghost. “And what if she’s stalling? Buying time for whoever’s covering his trail?”
“Then we’ll find out. But if she’s not—if she’s right—then Sable’s closer to the edge than we think. You want to risk that because your pride doesn’t trust a rogue?”
“It’s not pride,” I said, spinning toward him. “It’s instinct. And it hasn’t failed me yet.”
He arched a brow. “Except the last time you trusted it, you ended up in sleeping with the wrong woman and your wolf went silent.”
I winched, the words landed like a blow.
Jaxon sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Sorry. But you know I’m right.”
For a long moment, the only sound was the rain against the glass. Then I exhaled, sharp and low. “Half,” I said finally. “No more. If she’s lying, she won’t make it out of this building.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.”
We went back into the room. The rogue’s eyes flicked between us, like she was measuring which of us would be easier to manipulate.
“Five million,” he said. “Untraceable. The other half when we verify what you tell us.”
She tilted her head. “Fair.”
I stayed standing, arms folded, watching her like she was a storm about to hit.
“Talk,” I ordered.
She slid a folded napkin across the table. This one wasn’t smeared with lipstick—it was clean, crisp, deliberate. A single word written in black ink: Moon Den.
Jaxon frowned. “That’s the bar?”
She nodded. “It’s where I took Sam. Where Rhea found him.”
The name hit like a spark in the dark. “Rhea,” I repeated. “She’s the one who supplied Sam?”
“She’s more than that,” the rogue said. “She runs the Den, but it’s not just a bar—it’s a trading post. Information, relics, favors. You can buy anything there if you know how to ask.”
“Where?” Jaxon asked.
“Downtown. Old district, near the river tunnels. No sign outside. Just a red light in the window. You walk in, you better know the code word or you won’t walk back out.”
“What’s the code word?”
Her mouth curved. “That’ll cost extra.”
My patience snapped. “You’re out of time.”
She held up both hands. “Easy, Alpha. It’s Hollow Moon. That’s what gets you in. But you’re not walking through that door yourselves.”
Jaxon frowned. “Why not?”
“Because you smell like authority,” she said. “You go in there, every rogue in the place will scent pack blood and scatter—or worse. Rhea will vanish before you even hit the bar.”
“So we send someone else,” Jaxon said.
She smiled, sharp and knowing. “Smart. Send a human. Someone who looks like they don’t belong anywhere near wolves.”
I didn’t answer. My mind was already turning, cataloging faces. Who could walk into a den of rogues and live long enough to walk out again?
Jaxon looked at me. “We are not sending Jenna."
I met his gaze. “She’s human and she’s the only one the rogues won’t sniff out immediately.”
“She’s also not trained for that,” he said. “It’s suicide.”
“It’s a conversation,” I said. “She goes in, orders a drink, asks the right questions, listens. We’ll have eyes on her the whole time.”
“You think rogues won’t notice a human wearing a wire?”
“I think Jenna can handle more than we give her credit for.”
Jaxon shook his head. “She’s not a soldier.”
“She’s family to Sable,” I said quietly. “And she wants Sable back just as much as we do.”
The rogue laughed softly. “You two sound like you’re debating who to throw to the wolves.”
“Shut up,” I said without looking at her.
She grinned, unbothered. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just saying—Rhea doesn’t talk to strangers. You send someone, they better be ready to bleed if she doesn’t like the questions.”
Jaxon straightened. “You’re sure this is where Sam met her?”
“I’m sure,” she said. “He went in talking about your girl. Everyone thought he was crazy. Rhea thought he was useful. She doesn’t do favors for free, so whatever he traded her—it was big.”
“Money?”
“Maybe. Or maybe something worse.”
I stared at her, searching for the lie, but all I found was exhaustion behind her arrogance.
Emma walked in with a black case and laid it on the table. She opened the case to show its rows of bills. "It's all there," she said. "Five million dollars."
Jaxon closed the case and handed it across the table. “Five million,” he said again. “Don’t make us regret it.”
She took it like it weighed nothing. “Oh, you will,” she said lightly. “Everyone who walks into that Den does.”
She stood, slipping the case under her arm, and headed toward the elevator. When the doors slid shut behind her, the silence that followed felt like a wound.
Jaxon exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re really going to send Jenna.”
“She’s the only one who can do it.”
“You should tell her what she’s walking into.”
“I will,” I said, staring at the rain streaking down the glass. “But not until we know what we’re asking her to find.”
He was quiet for a beat. “You still don’t trust the rogue?”
“No,” I said. “But if she’s lying, I’ll make sure she never lies again.”
Jaxon didn’t argue this time. He just nodded once, grim and tired.