Asher ushers us away from the warehouse and over to a nearby clearing of concrete behind a shipping container. There are panicked people everywhere, bike engines roaring to life as they try and flee the horrible commotion.
I stare back at the scene, gasping for breath. There on the back wall of the warehouse is a massive black-and-green serpent spraypainted on the tin.
“Fucking Serpents,” Asher growls, and I know he’s seeing what I am. He pulls a gun free and clings to it, scanning our surroundings.
Jagger drops down to his knees and sucks in ragged breaths. “Flower, you okay?” He coughs.
I inhale deeply and collapse down on the concrete beside him, not too far from where we parked the car. “I’ll live.” But fuck, what if they are out here someplace waiting for us?
“Ash?” Jagger growls out.
“I’m fine. But where the fuck is Cruz? We need to get out of here.” He looks frantic, and I know how he feels.
Where is he? He got out of the building before we did. He knew where the car was parked, he should have beaten us here with his security by his side.
A hiss comes from the building and something explodes. Then the whole roof crumbles, collapsing into the center with almost a scream as the metal gives in to the heat.
A silent sob wracks through me. Please let Cruz be out here somewhere and not trapped in there looking for us or something.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I stare back at the boys. Jagger is out of it, not his normal in-control self at all. His body shakes, and he stares into space in a way that scares me. But Asher is calm, his eyes locking with mine as he hands me his phone. “Call him, while I keep a look out,” he says, holding his gun, protecting us.
I press call and wait. I hear a faint phone ringing in the distance, but he doesn’t pick up.
Out of nowhere a shadowy figure comes barreling toward us, covered in soot and blood. “Get in the fucking car. The cops are on their way, and the Serpents aren’t far behind,” Cruz yells to all of us.
We’re up and running in no time, the four of us jumping in the Jeep, Cruz and Asher in the front, with me and Jagger in the back. Asher’s flying down the street before I have time to buckle my belt.
Jagger’s eyes are haunted in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. I take his hand and lace our fingers because I have no clue what else to do.
He pulls me into his lap. “You’re alive,” he tells me like there was a question about it. He’s not himself at all, and that scares me more than what we’re running from. What the hell happened to him when he was younger?
I take his face in my hands and slowly kiss his lips. “So are you.”
He grips me so tight it nearly hurts, but I let him because I can see it’s what he needs. It’s what I need as well. Anything to make him feel better. “I fucked up,” he whispers. “What the fuck happened?” he growls at his brothers as he seems to regain his composure. “That plan was fucking foolproof.”
“Not all security was ours. I killed two guys before I got back to you all. Both with serpents inked up their arms, disguised in our men’s attire,” Cruz says, his furious voice sendinggoosebumps over my skin. I fucking told them, nowhere is safe from my family.
Chapter 24
Paint It, Black
IsleptwithJaggerlast night. He was quiet, broody, but still hugged me tight until I fell asleep. I don’t know exactly what happened to him to give him those scars and turn him into a zombie as soon as he heard the word fire, but after last night, I know it was bad. I wish he would talk to me, open up, but I know that’s not his way. He thinks he has to be the strong one, the bossalways with his shit together for everyone else. The pressure must be exhausting. Especially when he’s carrying around so much trauma.
When I snuck out to find breakfast, he was still fast asleep in bed. I took the opportunity to have five minutes to myself and made scrambled eggs and buttery toast with coffee while I listened to one of my playlists. Ash and Cruz haven’t stirred either. I guess last night took a toll on all of them. I’m just thankful this place is so safe.
I shove open Jagger’s bedroom door with my hip and place the plate and coffee down on the bedside table.
He rolls over, his sleepy eyes running over me.
“Breakfast.” I offer a half smile, not sure what else to do.
His fingers wrap around my wrist, and he tugs me back into bed with him, rolling on top of me and looming down in that way he does, with his sleep-messed hair hanging half over his eyes. “Did I say it was okay for you to go make breakfast alone?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not asking for permission. You would think after weeks of me disobeying your rules, you would learn it’s pointless and give up.”
He forces one of his knees in between my legs, his body oozing power over me. “Spread your legs,” he growls when I fight against him.
I stare back up at him, wondering how to navigate him when he’s like this. “Jagger. You need to eat something, it’s almost midday.”
