DAMIEN

Crack! I drop low, using the strength in my back leg to drive my punch harder into my brother Rylan Rock's ribs. "You don't own the west side. I do!" I shout, my voice rough with anger. There's no backing down now, not with him. If I let up for even a second, he'll hit me from behind. That's what Rylan does. He's sneaky like that.

I push my hair out of my face, squinting through the parking lot lights as I size him up. He's furious, too mad to fight smart. I move lightly on my feet, staying in my stance, spitting out the blood that's collecting in my mouth. My crew stands close by, watching, waiting.

"Damien, don't hold back!" Kellan calls out, his teeth flashing in a wild grin. "You know his weak side. Light him up!" Kellan's part of the rebellion, the small group I've been leading. It's a rough crew, but they've got my back.

"Shut up, Kellan," Rylan snaps, blood dripping from his mouth. He looks so much like me-same sharp jaw, same dark eyes, but taller by an inch. He's built like a tank at six-three, all muscle and rage. I'm six-two, not far off, but I've got speed. He's all strength, I'm all fire.

I swing again, catching him across the face. The crack of bone echoes through the lot, drawing gasps from the small crowd gathering around. This is nothing new. Everyone knows Rylan and I fight every week, it's practically a show for the pack.

"Stay down," I warn, but he grins, wiping the blood off his chin. Then, in a split second, he dips low, scoops up a handful of gravel, and flings it in my face.

"Ah, hell!" I curse, spitting out the gritty pebbles that sting my mouth and eyes. The bastard got me good. My knee buckles as he kicks me hard, and I drop for a second, one hand hitting the ground to keep my balance. The pain burns through me, but I don't let it hold me.

"Get up, Damien! He's coming for you!" Nova shouts. She's the only girl in my crew, a tomboy wolf with a sharp tongue and a mean right hook. Her voice cuts through the chaos like a spark.

I grin through the blood. "You're not the only one with tricks, brother." I grab Rylan's legs and yank, pulling him to the ground. The thud of his body hitting the gravel is loud, satisfying. I hope I cracked a rib or two. He groans, and I give him a solid kick in the side to make sure he stays down.

That's when I feel it, the heavy presence that freezes the air. My father.

Gareth Rock.

The crowd that had gathered around us shifts uneasily. Some step back. My father's presence has that effect on everyone. He's ruthless, cold, and stronger than anyone in this damn pack.

"Break this up!" Gareth's voice booms, low and dangerous. "Damien, get off your brother."

Of course, it's me he blames. It's always me. Never Rylan. I stand slowly, brushing the dust from my jeans, my chest heaving.

"He started it-"

"Shut it, Damien." His tone slices through the air. "You're supposed to be the heir to the throne, not a street brawler. I need you down in Upper Manhattan for the collection run. Wheelie Pop owes us, and I want that money today. Get it however you need to. Save your fists for that."

I clench my jaw, swallowing the bitter taste of gravel and blood. My father's eyes are cold, the color of storm clouds, his face marked with scars from battles I've only heard whispers about. There's one deep line under his left eye, a scar that cuts across his cheek like a warning. He's covered in tattoos, each one rumored to represent a kill. I've never asked. I don't want to know.

Rylan stands behind him, smirking, rubbing his jaw. I want to hit him again, but I don't. Not with Gareth watching.

"Yes, sir," I mutter, though my voice shakes with frustration.

My father's lips curl into a small, cruel smile before he turns and walks away, his heavy boots crunching against the gravel. The crowd starts to disperse, and I can feel my crew's eyes on me. Kellan gives me a nod, Nova shakes her head, and I just stand there, fists tight, heart pounding.

That's the thing about being a Rock, violence isn't just in the blood. It's the only language we've ever learned.

DAMIEN

Rylan groaned and rolled on the ground, clutching his back after our sparring match. I could hear his whining, and it almost made me laugh. Behind me, Drake and Nova rubbed my shoulders, hyping me up after the fight.

"Come on, man. You had him," Drake whispered, thinking my father couldn't hear.

But Gareth heard everything. He always did.

"Drake, that's enough," he barked. "You're going with Damien this morning. I want the full collection from every single business. And if you come back short, you'll be washing dishes in the kitchen for a week. Got it?"

Drake's jaw tightened. He wasn't dumb enough to argue. "Got it," he muttered.

Gareth turned back to Rylan, reaching down to pull him to his feet. I couldn't help smirking. Rylan's face was already swollen from the punch I'd landed. His jaw looked like it had been hit with a hammer, and he could barely stand straight. Good. Served him right for messing with me.

Rylan shot me a dark look just before Gareth started scolding him.

"Rylan, you're taking the Upper East run. There's a pack meeting later, and it's serious. The Silver Moon Pack's been pushing into our territory. Word is, they're buying up property in the region. That's our turf, and we'll keep it by any means necessary."

The mention of the Silver Moon Pack made my chest tighten. Those bastards had been our enemies for generations. My fists clenched as a memory of my mother flashed before me, her face, the pain, the blood. I could almost feel the rain from that night again.

The fury rose inside me. I still burned over her death. She hadn't deserved it, and my father said the wounds she took were brutal. The Silver Moons had destroyed her.

"I got it," Rylan said with a wince. Then he looked at me and muttered, "You'll get yours, brother."

Gareth shoved him toward the door. "Go clean up. You're rusty. You need a few sparring sessions to fix that."

Eli clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Come on, Damien. You heard Gareth. We've got work to do."

I brushed the gravel off my mouth and stared after Rylan as he limped away. "Idiot," I muttered under my breath. "Let's ride out."

The sun was just starting to rise as we headed for the Long Island headquarters. The Shadow Fang Pack was built on dirty money, collections from every corner of the city. Mom-and-pop stores, shady landlords, gambling rings, even a few chain businesses that paid us to "stay protected." We owned the underground of New York, and we were good at it.

I walked over to my midnight-black Harley, gleaming in the morning light. The chrome was engraved with our moon emblem - proud, dangerous, and untouchable. I grabbed my leather jacket from the ground, dusted it off, and pulled it back on. My hair fell across my forehead as I raked a hand through it.

"Gareth's losing it again," Nova muttered, strapping on her helmet beside her bike.

"He's wrong this time," I said, my voice low and steady. "Rylan needs to stay the hell off my turf and worry about his own collections. He's been short for months. And my father's got the nerve to tell me I'm the one slacking."

"Let it go, Damien," Drake said calmly. "We've got money to bring in. Gareth will see who's really pulling the weight soon enough. Let's prove him wrong."

Drake was my balance - solid, loyal, and cool-headed when I got heated.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, smirking. "Let's go."

The roar of engines filled the air as we took off. My Harley thundered down the road, the tires burning rubber. The wind ripped past my face, cool and sharp. Out here, flying through the city streets, I finally felt free.

New York's highways weren't open roads, but weaving through traffic and flipping off drivers gave me the kind of rush I lived for. The cops didn't bother us, half of them were as corrupt as we were, and a few even worked for us.

We stopped at a diner along the way, picking up greasy bacon, eggs, and coffee to go.

"You good?" Nova asked as we walked back to the bikes. "Rylan got you pretty good with that gravel throw. He's improving."

I smirked. "He's jealous. Always has been. He's not smart enough to see that bringing in money means more than throwing punches. He's desperate because he can't keep up."

Nova shook her head, smiling faintly. "You've got your own way of being smart, Damien. Like that deal with the dean on the Lower East Side. I still don't know how you come up with this stuff. You don't even care about school."

I raised an eyebrow at Drake. "Let's just say I opened a new income stream for Shadow Fang. The dean's got a little Fentanyl problem, and if that gets out, his career's over. I just want access to the college girls. Some of them are... worth the trouble."

Drake and Eli burst out laughing. I grinned. I had the dean wrapped around my finger, my grades were spotless, and the students helping me got paid well. Everyone won.

Egg yolk ran down my chin as I took a bite of my sandwich. My reflection in the Harley's chrome looked like what I was young, reckless, and ready to make my pack proud. We ran New York, and no one could take that from us.

Nova made a face. "You're disgusting."

I elbowed her playfully. "Yeah? That's not what Sky said last week."

Her eyes widened. "That dancer from Tootsie Roll? You're actually seeing her?" Eli asked, half impressed, half amused.

"Yeah. A few times," I said, crumpling my food wrapper. Nova groaned.

"She likes wolves," I said with a smirk. "Anyway, enough talking. We've got work to do."