He sighs. “I don’t understand you these days. That hospital has your head all twisted up. You’d better clear those cobwebs and remember where you come from quickly. ‘Cause people around here are talking.”
My stomach drops. “About me?”
Dad grunts. “And your loyalty.”
Closing my eyes, I exhale as my heart knocks around in my chest. That’s a dangerous sentence.
Thump. Glass shatters, and I jump.
“The fuck,” Dad growls, pushing up from his seated position. The window in his room shatters. Metal glints in the sunlight and clinks on the concrete floor.
“Get down. We’re under attack,” Dad barks.
Smoke pours from a canister. My eyes water and burn.
“Cover,” Dad hacks, “your nose and mouth.”
Dropping to my knees, I yank the hand towel from the bar and cover my face. Blinded, I cough as my throat rejects the mouthfuls of smoke I inhaled. Chest tightening, I run out of the room, trailing my father as I seek a safe space. Smoke and broken glass are everywhere. Feral Wolves scramble while women scream and run toward the exits.
Bang. A loud explosion draws my attention to the front door. Blown off its hinges, it launches a massive projectile that takes Leer out. I watch, horrified, as his massive frame is flung into the glass mirror behind the bar. Men storm in through the front in all black, shielding their faces with baklavas, but I recognize the leather vests worn by bikers.
What the hell did you do, Ferals? A head explodes to my left. The sound of flesh being riddled by a bullet and the spray of blood across my face and body makes me scream. I throw myself to the floor, trying to avoid the projectiles being unleashed toward the enemy and back to us. Scrambling under a table, pushing the weight to the left, I tip it over and use it for a shield. I curse my lack of a weapon. I’d gotten careless and forgotten about my surroundings. Now it would cost me my life.
A leather-gloved hand wraps around my hair and yanks me to my feet. I scream and swing out, trying to force them away as pain shoots down through my body. A hand wraps around my neck and lifts me into the air. Kicking my feet, I dig my blunt nails into the thick leather. As I struggle to breathe, my chest threatens to explode as the world waivers around me. The unyielding hand tightens, and I gag as my head grows light and my vision darkens around the edges. The barrel of a gun presses to the side of my head. I let go. I’ll take the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness over feeling my final moments.
“No. Not her!”
I fall into the black with the hopes I’ve been good enough to make it into heaven.
***
Cutter
Shoving the gun barrel away from Nadia’s head, I exhale sharply when it fires. The bullet tears across the room in a path where the limp bundle of limbs drops to the ground with a painful smack, as Destroyer stares at me like I’ve grown another head. I shove down the rage that rises inside me. He has no clue what the woman sprawled across the ground means to me.
“What the fuck, brother?” Destroyer barks. The gas mask distorts his voice.
I step into his space. “This is Nadia, Doc’s daughter. The one who saved my life when she was fifteen. I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t sat there with her thumb in my vein, preventing me from bleeding out until her old man arrived. No one is touching her.”
His eyes widen behind the plastic, and I see them spark with understanding. “Man, it’s your funeral. You can explain this to Tank.”
“I will.” Kneeling, I scoop the petite woman clad in a pair of pale blue scrubs and hold her close to my chest.
The blood has drained from her face. Angry red handprints stand out around her neck and make me growl. She’ll be feeling that in the morning. I want to shelter her from the graveyard we’ve made of the Ferals’ clubhouse. It’s not like us to lay waste like this, but the information we received was too damning to let go of or bring to them for resolution. We’ve been around for a long time because we act swiftly and precisely.
Colluding with smaller criminal organizations to overthrow us is grounds to stop breathing and have your shit erased from the map. Walking around the corpses, I pause at the man I once considered my friend and an alley. Doc had been good people for years, but greed and his barbaric President turned him into an unscrupulous piece of shit.
The President is the heartbeat, and it can make or break an organization. Scar was ruthless. After fifteen years of being a Nomad, he rose in rank after making his home in the Nashville charter. The life of a chapter President must’ve been too dull because Scar started delving into things he shouldn’t have. Now we’re pulling bodies into a pile to burn along with the compound in the middle of nowhere. I walk to the door.
“The fuck are you doing?” Vice President Forger rips off his mask. Anger and confusion warped his features. He looks mad enough to spit nails as he stops in front of me. Balancing her body, I push up my mask.
“Blood debt.” I turn sideways to give him a clear view of the woman I’m carrying. “This is Nadia.”
“Son of a bitch.” He shakes his head. “You’re dealing with everything that stems from this, and if it gets over your head—.”
“It won’t.” I tighten my hold on the curvy frame that’s tormented me for the past six years.
The scent of fruit and flowers assaults me, something soft among the harsh landscape surrounding us. From the moment Nadia bathed in my blood and put her fingers inside my arteries to keep my heart beating, she’s haunted my dreams. A Viking maiden with dirt and grime smeared across her face. She stood firm in my defense when I couldn’t advocate for myself. Her heroic act began an inappropriate obsession that hasn’t waivered or dimmed once. I want to shield her from this moment, but our life doesn’t allow for that luxury. Hitching her up to me, I tap her face gently. Startled, she splutters and jerks away from me. I tighten my grip.