The Harsh Bite: Codename: Spithra

THE HARSH BITE CODENAME: SPITHRA APEX TACTICAL SERIES CANDICE WRIGHT CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Epilogue Also by Candice Wright Acknowledgments About the Author The Harsh Bite Copyright © 2023 by Candice Wright This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Cover design by Dez Purington @ Pretty in Ink Creations Editing by Tanya Oemig Proof reading by Briann Graziano Created with Vellum For everyone who turned up to see me at RARE London. Thank you for all the love and support. You popped my book signing cherry. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me. CHAPTER ONE Astrid “This is a stupid idea,” I mumble as I contemplate turning around. If it hadn’t taken me so long to find the place, I might have, but stubborn is my middle name, and a bigger part of me wants to see this through. Besides, as much as I like to project an I don’t give a fuck vibe to the world, I’m not sure how many more souls my conscience can carry before I break. I take the turn I passed three previous times—before I realized I’d been going around in circles—and drive slowly up the unmarked road. When I say road, I mean the dirt path made by all the brave vehicles that have gone before me. I cringe at the pinging sound of gravel and rocks bouncing off my new SUV. I ignore it for now, putting it in the pile of tomorrow’s problems in my brain. A pile that is already overflowing. Instead, I take a deep breath and blow it out. The road goes on for miles, and I’m starting to think I’ve gone the wrong way yet again when a building finally comes into view. I’m not sure what I was expecting when I set out on this journey, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. A sign greets me as I pass through a wooden archway with APEX carved into the wood. “Thank you, sweet baby Jesus.” Now that I know I’m in the right place, a weight lifts from my shoulders. At least until I reach the top of the hill and get a better look at the place. When I was told about the team of men—or more precisely, ex-soldiers—living out here calling themselves Apex Tactical, I’ll admit I rolled my eyes. I pictured an old ranch or a hunting cabin where a bunch of washed-up old soldiers who couldn’t hack it in the military came to play with their guns. Asking around about them, I found that assumption rather quickly dismissed, but I still couldn’t seem to shake the image I had in my head of the ranch. Now, I’m more than happy to admit when I’m wrong, and boy, was I wrong. This ranch is not just any ranch. It’s like your friend saying her boyfriend likes to box a little, and then you find out her boyfriend is Mike Tyson. As I drive toward the parking area, I swear I see a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. But when I turn, I don’t see anything. I focus back on what looks like the main building and smile. It looks like something out of a movie. I mean, I guess you could call it a ranch if the ranch had been given steroids. For a start, the place is huge. I didn’t do any research on the building itself, and knowing how hard the damn place was to find, I doubt I’d have found anything. What I can see, even from here, is that it’s been restored—keeping a lot of the original features—and painted a warm, earthy red. Two large black doors with smooth steel handles stretch from the bottom of the entry to the top. A sandstone walkway leads up to it from the parking lot. There are various low-maintenance shrubs lining the path, giving it a homey vibe. Floodlights, which aren’t on yet, will probably cast the place in a warm glow once the sun sets. I pass the large garage to the left of the house and park my car near the front of the building. Turning my engine off, I climb out and stretch, working out the kink in my back from driving for so long. I shut the door, the noise loud in the quiet of the place, and pocket my keys. Now that I’m here, I feel a wave of unease wash over me. It doesn’t take much for my emotional pendulum to swing from one mood to another. This place is too quiet, and the stillness of it feels unnatural. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, ignoring the feeling between my shoulder blades that tells me I’m being watched, and give myself a pathetic pep talk as I walk toward the front door. “You’ve got this, Astrid. If they don’t listen, well, that’s on them, not you. All you can do is