She’s pale, her silk clinging wet against her ribs, but the fire in her eyes burns hotter than the muzzle flashes lighting the bay. And seeing her fight sets something dangerous loose in me.
I adjust Alicia higher, her weight dragging on my shoulder, and force my legs forward. My free hand clenches into a fist, ready to carve space, because no man, no bullet, no wall of SUVs is stopping us from getting out of this place alive.
Then the ramp floods with light. Tires scream, engines snarl, rubber burning against concrete. Motorcycles fishtail across the entrance, headlights blazing through the haze like searchlights.
For a split second I think it’s more of Serrano’s men, but past the chaos, the Royal Harlots colors glare. Quinn, LC, and Orchid storm down, weapons drawn and fury written across every line of them.
Gunfire cracks sharp, the whole bay lighting up with muzzle flash. LC drops to one knee, her shots snapping precisely, forcing Serrano’s guards back behind the vans. Sparks spit off steel, bullets pinging across the floor. Quinn wades in behind her, a length of chain whipping arcs through the air, every swing snapping bone and tearing screams from men too slow to duck. Orchid barrels straight for us, carving a path through the storm, her blade flashing red in the headlights.
“Finally,” I growl, half in relief, half in fury. The sound grinds out of me like broken glass.
Katana’s still bleeding at my side, fists swinging, her body refusing to quit even as the fabric at her waist soaks darker.Every time she drops a man, my chest tightens hotter. She shouldn’t even be standing, but she’s clearing space like hell itself.
“Take her!” I bark, shoving Alicia into Orchid’s arms. Alicia sags against her, eyes fluttering, a weak sound slipping past her lips. “Keep her safe.”
Orchid doesn’t waste a word. She just nods once, sharp and certain, and hauls Alicia toward the SUVs at the top of the ramp, LC pivoting to cover her with shot after shot.
Quinn swings her chain wide, clearing a brutal path, the sound of bone cracking echoing across the bay. Sparks spray as gunfire hits steel, a near-miss searing hot across my shoulder. I snarl, pivoting to cover Katana as she staggers but still plants her fist into another bastard’s jaw.
Gunfire eats the air. Muzzle flash strobes against the concrete, every shot sparking off steel, ricochets whining past my ears close enough to kiss. Heat sears across my cheek as a round slams the wall an inch from my head. Stone grit peppers my teeth. A hot line opens on my jaw. The garage is a warzone, echoes cracking off corrugated steel until it feels like the whole place is collapsing.
Katana and I move as one. She cuts low, while I drive high. Every time her body grazes mine, heat scorches through the chaos, but I can’t let myself feel it. Not with her bleeding out and refusing to give up.
I fire my weight forward, slamming a bastard back into the van, the steel groaning under impact as his ribs fold.
Quinn’s voice cuts through, loud from the ramp. “Keep moving.”
Orchid’s hauling Alicia up the incline, LC covering her with relentless fire. Quinn swings wide with her chain, metal singing every time it cracks bone.
Katana staggers once, blood loss slowing her down, and my chest seizes. My arm snaps out, steadying her, rage burning white-hot.
“Stay up, Hellcat,” I growl, voice gutted raw. “If you fall, I’ll carry you.”
Her eyes flash at me, feral even pale as ash. “Try it, and I’ll cut you myself.”
Then she’s swinging again, carving another bastard down, and it’s so damn her I almost smile.
The ramp’s clearing. The SUVs are still there, but Serrano’s men have fallen.
I adjust my grip on Katana’s waist, her blood hot against my side, and set my sights on that ramp. There’s no stopping us now.
Katana stumbles, her knees dipping, blood running dark down her side. I catch her before she can hit the floor. She’s too pale, sweat plastering her hair to her face. My heart rips wide.
“Don’t you dare quit on me now,” I grit, tearing my jacket off with one hand, pressing it hard to her wound. Warmth floods through the jacket, seeping between my fingers. My other arm locks around her back, hauling her against me. She hisses, fists still twitching like she wants to swing, but I don’t care. She’s fading. I scoop her up, cradling her tight against my chest, and push on.
Katana shifts in my arms, her breath shallow against my throat. Her blood soaks through my shirt, hot and sticky, and my stomach knots hard enough to choke me. I can’t lose her.
We break through the line of SUVs just as the ramp floods with light. Meadow’s town car swerves into the bay. The rear door is already flung wide, waiting.
“Get in!” Meadow’s voice lashes the comm, and I don’t hesitate. I bolt for the car, Katana limps against me, her headlolling on my shoulder. Her blood’s slick on my arms, dripping hot between my fingers no matter how hard I press.
I climb in with her clutched tight. The slam of the door shakes the frame, and the second my ass hits the seat, Meadow guns it. Tires scream, the car fishtailing before it claws up the ramp.
I pin Katana to me, my jacket jammed hard to her side. Her pulse flutters against my wrist, my jaw clenches tight enough to split. Her face is pale, lips parted, every breath stuttering shallow. I swipe her hair from her cheek, whispering words I don’t even recognize as mine. Promises. Pleas.
Through the rearview, Meadow’s eyes lock with mine. Her face is carved with the same fear strangling me. She pushes the gas harder, the wheel tight in her hands, dragging us away.
Behind us, sirens wail. Red and blue lights ripping through the darkness. But I don’t look back. All I see is Katana’s face, the strongest woman I’ve ever met, ashen against my chest, her blood on my hands.
