Only logic told me it was without doubt one hundred percent my reality.
Embry loved me.
I loved him.
But we were at war and the first rule of a biker fight was that you didn’t wait around to be hit. He’d defend me to the death, but he couldn’t do that trapped in this cab with my free-flowing blood.
Fuck’s sake.I swiped at my eyes with one hand, wrestling my seatbelt undone with the other. In the haze of Embry’s confession, I’d forgotten to take it off.
Had he taken his off?
I couldn’t remember. My reeling brain couldn’t recall much except his whispered words.“I want you to fuck me.”
Well, okay then. But I needed to not die in this fucking HGV first.
Gritty sounds of a savage fight reached my ears. I latched onto them, digging deep, and scrambled out of my seat.
Blood flowed from my mashed eyebrow. I smeared it with the heel of my hand, absorbing the smell of iron and my fast-rising adrenaline. Unbidden, my body gave in to a chemical reaction that tapped into the worst parts of me, muddying my conscience until murder seemed the most favourable conclusion to this fucked-up night.
I was still clutching the hammer Embry had given me. My fingers tightened around it, and I followed him out of the shattered windshield and into the fucking fire.
He was already fighting hard, Crows swarming him, fists and weapons flying. They were so focused on attacking the smallest brother of any value that they didn’t see me coming.
Not that Embry needed my help. Three of these motherfuckers were already down and out cold.
Three down, five to go.
My boots hit the tarmac. The biggest Crow raised a scaffold pipe, the same kind that had hit Rubi last year. Hell, it could’ve been the same brother for all I knew. I didn’t look at them and see faces, just cunts that were going to die before they laid a finger on my brothers again.
The Crow swung for Embry, too high and too slow. Embry’s greatest strength was his speed. His ethereal agility. He danced out of reach and fly-kicked the bastard in the face.
Job done.
Didn’t stop the wave of fury that engulfed me, though. The guttural roar as I blasted into the fray. Blood still impeded my vision, but it didn’t matter. I’d fought with Embry more times than I could count. With Nash. With Rubi. As they reached us, I sensed their presence like we were pack, not men. Nash with his brutal haymaker. Rubi who could hold two men down with one hand while annihilating two more with the other.
We were outnumbered, as usual.
As usual, it made no fucking difference. Putting Crows down was a way of life. Routine, almost.
Until some stupid fucker pulled a shank.
I saw the glint in the haze of the dawn sun. A shitty kitchen knife with a big blade and green plastic handle.
The Crow was a young blood who had hair like a fucking Womble. Locke, Folk, Ranger—even Rocco, rest in power—they were pretty motherfuckers. Annoyingly so. This prick was the ugliest piece of shit I’d ever seen. The stupidest too. He raised the knife and charged at Rubi’s back, blade raised to plunge into my brother’s spine, but he never made it.
Embry barrelled into him, taking him down with a rage-filled shout that was equal parts terrifying and hot as fuck. He body-slammed Womble-Crow into the dirt, whaling on him so hard his fists were a blur, and then his feet as he put the boot in.
It was a fucking sight to behold, cos I knew how bad my boy needed this. Revenge. Closure. Catharsis. I didn’t know the right word. Just that every hit felt so good it was gonna take an army to stop him.
Or, as it happened, just me. Nash and Rubi were still bogged down in their own fights.
Me? I was done.
I launched a Crow across the nose of the HGV, hooting as he landed in broken glass on the other side and howled in pain. A year ago, I’d have chased him down, chucked a few knives of my own, just for funsies.
But I didn’t carry blades anymore.
Truth be told, I could barely look at them without feeling sick. WithoutseeingEmbry’s stomach oozing with blood, his lips turning blue.
