The Jeep eats up the distance. Helena's head whips around, eyes going wide as she sees me coming. One of the guards raises his weapon, but he's too slow.
I wrench the wheel hard, and the Jeep slides sideways, blocking the sedan's path. The impact jolts through me as the front bumper clips the sedan's hood, metal screaming against metal.
For a moment, everything is still. Then Helena screams.
“Move it! Move the car!”
The guards scramble, one trying to pull open the Jeep's door while the other aims his weapon at me through the windshield.
My body locks up. I didn't think this far ahead.
Everything moves in slow motion. The guard's finger tightens on the trigger.
A blade flashes in the grey light.
Maddox appears from nowhere, moving like water, like shadows. His katana catches the first guard across the back of the knees, and the man goes down screaming. The second guard turns his weapon, but Maddox is already there, the blade singing through the air. A precise strike to the wrist, and the rifle clatters to the ground.
In seconds, both guards are down, writhing, alive but no longer a threat.
Maddox doesn't even look winded. He sheaths the blade in one fluid motion and turns to Helena, who's backed herself against the sedan, clutching her bag like a lifeline.
“Mrs. Hammond,” he says, his voice eerily calm. “I wouldn't run if I were you.”
Helena's face contorts with rage, but she doesn't move.
I climb out of the Jeep on shaking legs. My hands won't stop trembling. Adrenaline still coursing through me, making everything too sharp, too bright.
Maddox's dark eyes find mine. “Impressive driving.”
“I didn't have a plan,” I admit, voice barely steady.
“You don't say.” He grabs Helena's arm, grip firm but not brutal, and nods at me. “Let's go find your boyfriend.”
We walk into the warehouse, Maddox half-dragging Helena, me trailing behind on legs that feel like jelly. Pure chaos. Bodies on the ground, some moving, most not. Bikers everywhere, leather cuts catching the dim light. The smell of gunpowder and blood hangs heavy in the air.
Everything else goes out of focus when I see him.
Kai is slumped against Tank, one arm over the bigger man's shoulder, barely upright. His face is a mess of bruises and dried blood. Weight entirely on one leg. He's alive. He's alive.
“Kai!” His name tears out of me, raw and desperate.
His head snaps up. Blue eyes find mine across the warehouse. Relief. Pain. Love.
I run.
I crash into him hard enough to make Tank grunt, arms wrapping around Kai's neck, face buried in his chest. He smells like blood and sweat and smoke, and I don't care. I don't care about anything except the feel of him. Solid and real and breathing.
“Emma.” His voice cracks on my name. His arms come around me, holding me so tight it almost hurts. “Emma, Jesus, you're really here.”
“I couldn't stay in the car.” I'm crying, I realize. Tears streaming down my face, soaking into his ruined shirt. “I saw her running. I couldn't let her get away.”
“What?” He notices Helena behind me. “You stopped her?” His voice somewhere between horrified and awed.
“Maddox did the hard part.”
Kai pulls back just enough to look at me, hands framing my face. His eyes are glassy, unfocused with pain and exhaustion, but the way he's looking at me makes my chest ache.
“You reckless, beautiful woman,” he whispers.
