I should’ve stopped this before it started.
I should’ve killed that bastard myself instead of gravity doing it for me.
By the time we pull through the gates, my jaw hurts from clenching. Grinder and Miles peel off to secure the perimeter. Country Boy parks near the clubhouse door, already barking orders at whoever’s closest to get the infirmary room ready.
We don’t have a real infirmary, just a back office turned into a makeshift med bay years ago because this life demands stitching and bandages more than paperwork.
I kill the engine and swing off the bike before it fully settles.
Smoke is there a second later, helping Tiffany out of the SUV. She waves him off, but her legs wobble, and he ignores the protest. He hooks an arm under her shoulders like she weighs nothing.
I head straight to the other side.
Holley climbs out slowly, jaw tight, trying to pretend she’s steadier than she is. The second her feet hit the ground, she sways.
I catch her.
Her fingers clutch my cut, twisting in the leather like she’s centering herself on the feel of it.
“I’m fine,” she whispers.
“You keep saying that,” I murmur, voice rough, “and I’m gonna start charging you for lying.”
Her eyes meet mine—shiny, exhausted, stubborn. “You came.”
Yeah. That does something to me I’m not proud of.
“I told you I would,” I say.
She lets out this tiny, shuddery breath that sounds like pieces of her finally relaxing. I tuck her against my side, one arm around her, guiding her in.
The clubhouse goes dead quiet when we step inside.
They all knew we’d gone to get them.
Seeing them back—alive, walking, breathing—does something to the room I can feel in my bones.
Tension unwinds.
Rage settles.
Relief hums through the floorboards.
I don’t stop walking.
“Back room,” I say. “Now.”
Country Boy moves ahead of us, opening doors. Grinder follows with a first aid kit. Someone presses a bag of ice into my free hand. I don’t even see who.
I get Holley to the med room and sit her on the cot. My hands are gentle when I touch her, but they’re shaking.
She notices.
“Tony,” she says softly. “I’m okay.”
“That word is banned,” I growl.
She almost smiles.
