The meeting room smelled faintly of smoke and oil — engines cooling after a long ride. Maps and monitors covered one wall, harsh blue light cutting over three men who hadn't slept in days.
River Fontenot stood at the head of the table, jaw tight, eyes flicking between the live feed and the coded alerts crawling across the screen.
"Third breach in a week," he said finally, voice low but cutting. "Different entry points every time. Whoever's behind this isn't guessing — they know our systems."
Miles leaned back, boots propped on the table, frustration masked by a lazy grin. "Or they're testing us. Seeing what breaks first — the firewalls or us." His golden eyes met his brother's. "My money's on us."
River didn't bite. His composure was iron — which made the edge in his voice sharper when it cracked through.
"I had Beau pull the logs. We're being ghosted. No trace routes, no source. It's like the attacks vanish midstream."
Beau Thibodeaux shifted the toothpick in his teeth and sighed. "Ain't nobody vanish midstream unless they've got tech we can't touch. Our firewall's solid, but it's built on old bones. Everyone's movin' to newer systems — IronWard Security."
Miles snorted. "Those human tech-heads half the South's bragging about?"
"Yeah. They upgraded Bay Ridge and Copper Hollow last season. Not a single breach since. Whatever encryption they're runnin' — it's clean. Unhackable, far as anyone's seen."
River's gaze sharpened. "You're suggesting we bring in humans to touch our systems?"
"I'm suggestin' we stop bleedin' intel before someone gets killed," Beau replied evenly. "IronWard's got a reputation. But if we go that route, we do it like the others — only the owner and one trusted employee set foot on pack grounds. No contractors."
Miles tilted his head, smirk creeping in. "So, two strangers in our den, handed the keys to the kingdom."
"Not strangers," Beau said. "The owner herself handles high-risk clients. She don't come cheap — or uninvited."
River's brow lifted. "A woman runs IronWard?"
"Yeah," Beau said with a short laugh. "Name's Salem Boudreaux. Ex-military tech. No patience for bullshit. Packs that hired her swear by her systems."
Miles grinned. "Sounds like your type, brother."
River's lips curved slightly. "Sounds like someone who knows how to stay alive in a world full of wolves."
He turned back to the flashing warnings on the screen. "Fine. Reach out. If she's as good as they say, she'll know why we're calling."
Beau raised a brow. "And if she says no?"
River's tone was pure steel. "Then we make her an offer she can't ignore."
⸻
The phone on Salem Boudreaux's desk had barely finished ringing when she snatched it up.
"Yeah, IronWard Security—hold on a damn second!" she barked, wedging the receiver between her shoulder and ear. "Rhea! If you patch that router wrong again, I swear I'll feed you to the gators myself, cher!"
A laugh drifted from the next room. "Relax, boss! It's not on fire—yet!"
Salem muttered something in Cajun French that would've made a priest blush, slammed the door, and refocused.
"Alright," she said curtly. "Now, who's calling before I start charging by the minute?"
A deep, controlled voice answered. "This is River Fontenot, Alpha of Crescent Moon Pack. I'm here with my brother, Miles, and our Beta, Beau Thibodeaux. We were given your name."
Salem arched a brow, twirling a pen. "Fontenot, huh? Can't swing a dead cat in New Orleans without hittin' one. What makes you special?"
A pause. Then Miles's impatient drawl cut in.
"Maybe the part where someone's trying to gut our system and leak pack intel. We heard IronWard's unhackable."
"Unhackable's a dangerous word," Salem replied flatly. "Makes people want to test it."
"Then maybe that's what we need," River said smoothly. "A system that can take the hit."
"I don't usually take pack contracts," Salem said. "Too much ego, too many secrets. Last wolves I worked with tried to pay me in promises and blood oaths."
From the hall, Rhea called, "You forgot the part where they nearly blew up our field van!"
Salem covered the receiver. "You wanna run this call?"
"Hard pass," Rhea shot back. "You scare Alphas better than I do!"
When Salem returned to the line, she could practically hear Miles grinning.
"Your people always this fun?"
"Only on Mondays," she deadpanned. "Alright. How old's your infrastructure?"
Beau's Cajun drawl came through. "Old enough it wheezes when you boot it up. We've been runnin' local firewalls and manual overrides, but it ain't cuttin' it. You're the only one who's outsmarted the kinda breach we're seein'."
Salem hummed, tapping her pen. "I'll need full system access, a week on-site, and no interruptions. I don't do crowds, egos, or anyone lookin' over my shoulder."
Miles whistled. "You don't even pretend to play nice, do you?"
"I play nice when it's worth the effort," she said, voice sharp as glass. "You've got a security problem, not a PR one. I'm not here to kiss rings."
River's tone stayed calm. "You'll have what you need. Only you and your second allowed on our grounds. Name your rate."
That quiet authority made her pause. "Send the details," she said finally. "If your problem's as bad as you say, I'll take a look. But don't expect me to babysit a pack of bikers."
Beau chuckled. "You'll fit right in, cher. Ain't nobody down here needs babysittin'."
"Good," Salem replied dryly. "Because I'm fresh outta patience and coffee."
She hung up before they could answer.
Rhea leaned in the doorway a second later, holding two mugs. "Let me guess — we're heading to New Orleans?"
Salem took one, smirk tugging at her lips. "Apparently. Crescent Moon Pack's got themselves a hacker problem."
Rhea grinned. "And you couldn't resist, could you?"
"Please," Salem muttered, glancing at her screen where the first encrypted email was already rolling in. "If I'm gonna deal with wolves again, might as well start with the ones cocky enough to call me personally."