But his voice is steady when he speaks. "We need to move. Neighbors might have heard the gunfire. Police could be coming."
I look around the room, taking stock for the first time since I pulled the trigger.
Solveig's body lies crumpled on the floor, a neat hole between her eyes, the back of her head a ruin.
Her guards are down too—two dead, one groaning weakly in the corner until a Raider puts a final round in him.
The killing doesn't bother me.
These people took Dalla.
Threatened my child.
They deserve worse than a quick death.
"Hospital," I say immediately, turning my attention back to what matters. "She needs a hospital. The baby?—"
"I'm fine," Dalla protests weakly. Her voice is rough, barely above a whisper. "It's just cuts. I don't need?—"
"You're pregnant and you've been held hostage and you're bleeding from multiple wounds." I'm already lifting her, cradling her against my chest like she weighs nothing.
She doesn't resist, just curls into me, her bloody hand fisting in my shirt. "We're going to the hospital. That's not a request."
"RJ—"
"The baby needs to be checked." My voice breaks on the word, just slightly. "You need to be checked. I'm not taking any chances. Not with either of you."
She looks up at me, her blue eyes swimming with tears.
I see the fear there—not for herself, but for our child.
For the life growing inside her that's been through so much already.
"Okay," she whispers. "Okay."
She doesn't argue.
That, more than anything, tells me how scared she is.
How close we came to losing everything.
"Tor, handle the cleanup," Runes orders, his voice shifting back into command mode.
The father has stepped aside, the MC president is back in control. "Make sure there's nothing left to connect us to this place. No prints, no shell casings, no bodies that can be identified. Burn it if you have to."
"Understood." Tor nods, already turning to organize the men.
"The rest of you—we never came here. This place doesn't exist. If anyone asks, we were at the compound all afternoon. Clear?"
Murmurs of agreement.
The club knows how to handle this.
They've been handling things like this for decades.
The police might investigate the gunshots, but by the time they arrive, there will be nothing to find.
Just an empty farmhouse with a questionable history.
