My heart pounds violently, a chaotic rhythm of fear and hope. Ghost glances toward the door, urgency in his voice. “The guys are bringing a truck. Few minutes out.”
Riot heads toward the stairs, determination written on his face. “I’m grabbing her a bag. She’s not staying here.”
Good. Because there’s no way in hell she’s staying here after this.
With trembling hands, I shift Emma carefully into my arms. Her body feels too limp, too fragile, and the sight of all that blood—on her, on the floor, on me—makes my stomach churn.
“Jesus Christ…” Diesel mutters quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
I press Emma against my chest, cradling her head against my shoulder. “Stay with me, Trouble,” I whisper into her hair, feeling the warmth of her blood soak through my shirt.
Outside, engines roar into the driveway. The backup is here. Ghost steps outside and waves them in, urgency in hismovements. A truck pulls into the driveway while several bikes skid to a stop behind it.
The cleaners step inside, and the moment they see the kitchen, they freeze.
The blood. The dead man. Emma in my arms.
“Holy fuck,” one of them mutters, but I don’t even spare them a glance. My entire focus is on her, the gentle rise and fall of her chest against mine.
“Diesel,” I bark, urgency driving my words.
He steps forward immediately, his expression serious. “Yeah.”
“Drive.”
He nods once, and I stand carefully, holding Emma against me as gently as I can. Her blood soaks into my shirt, but I don’t care. Nothing matters except getting her to the clubhouse alive.
I walk past the stunned men in the kitchen, past the broken table, past the blood. I push through the cold night air toward the truck, the chill doing little to calm the storm inside me.
“Move,” I snap at Diesel, who jumps into the driver’s seat immediately.
I climb into the back with Emma still in my arms, holding her close as the door slams shut.
“Stay with me, baby,” I whisper, cupping the side of her face gently. “Please don’t leave me.”
Her eyelids flutter, and I can see her trying to focus. “Hawk?” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath.
“Yeah, baby, I’m right here,” I reply, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. “You’re gonna be okay. Just hang on for me.”
She takes a shaky breath, her eyes searching mine. “I… I’m scared.”
“I know, I know. Just keep looking at me, alright? You’re not alone.” My voice trembles, but I need her to hear me. “Stay with me, Trouble. Just a little longer.”
As Diesel pulls out into the night, I don’t let go. I hold her tightly, my heart racing with the fear of losing her. “You’re going to be okay, Emma. I promise. Just keep breathing for me. Please don’t leave me, baby.”
With every passing second, I focus on her, my world narrowing down to the two of us, fighting against the darkness closing in.
The truck skids into the clubhouse lot with a screech that sends gravel flying. The tires scream against the rough surface, and before it’s even fully stopped, I’m already moving, adrenaline surging through my veins.
The back door swings open, and cold air rushes inside the cab, but I barely notice it. Emma’s body is limp in my arms, her blood soaking through my shirt, warm and sticky against my chest.
“Move!” I bark, my voice sharp and demanding, slicing through the thick tension that hangs in the air.
The yard goes silent. Just moments ago, the place had been alive with noise—dozens of bikes rumbling, brothers from sister chapters laughing, music blasting from inside the bar. But now, every single man standing outside has gone completely still, their eyes wide as they take in the scene before them.
They’re staring at me. At Emma. At the blood.
I jump down from the truck, cradling her as carefully as I can.
