“Kurva anyád!” Warwick spat, punching the gas, his gaze snapping to Ash.
A bullet pinged off the building right by my head, spewing debris into the air. Shooting back, I watched the horses galloping toward us, gaining on us far faster than I liked.
Warwick snapped the handlebars, squealing the bike down another road, Ash right behind us. Maddox fired back at them.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sound of gunfire shrilled the night air, bouncing off the buildings, exploding in my eardrums. With every breath, I tensed, ready to feel a bullet sink into my skin.
Warwick made a gesture with his hand, his head darting back to Ash. The friends understood each other with looks and simple gestures after so long fighting together.
Warwick gave Ash a nod when his bike came even with us. Ash responded in kind before peeling off down a side alley while we spun the opposite way, hoping to split or falter the gang.
I twisted, firing back at the four horsemen who came after us, the other three going after Ash. My legs clung to Warwick for life, dread shimmering under my skin, terrified this would be the night our number was up.
Bullets pinged off our bike, scraping close to my body, the heat of the slug sizzling my clothes. Warwick’s muscles tensed. I sensed his need to pull me in front of him, shield me like he was also afraid the next shot would embed itself into my brain.
The clops of hooves on the concrete vibrated my spine, the hollers growing louder, icing my veins with panic.
“Hold on tight,”his voice hissed into my ear, my arms constricting around him right as he snapped the bike to the left, the wheels slipping on the damp cement. His foot struck the ground to keep us upright as he spun us down another street, the engine revving as he tore down the road. Just a few yards later, three men on horses tore from an alley right as we passed, shooting at us.
I yelped in shock, realizing they were the ones I thought went after Ash and Maddox. Instead, they had gone around, coming at us fromanother angle, boxing in their prey. It was smart. Cunning. Like they knew we were important targets, coming for us as if we really did call out to danger like a siren song.
The horses galloped up next to us, one of them getting right next to the bike. A Hound reached out for me, his fingers wrapping around the strap of my backpack, yanking on it. With a cry, I struggled to keep my balance on the seat, almost falling off. To thieves, the bagmighthold something of value—money, drugs, items to sell or trade, but it held nothing of worth in the conventional sense. But to me, it possessedeverything: Opie and Bitzy and the last thing I had of my father’s. His words, his thoughts, his writing, and possible knowledge of what I was.
There was no way I would let it go.
Twisting to my assailant, I pulled the trigger right as he wrenched the pack from my shoulders.Bang!The bullet hit its mark, sinking into his side. His body jerked. A grunt huffed from his chest, his frame sliding off the horse.
Slamming into me.
A scream caught in my throat as his weight knocked me off the bike, plunging us to the ground. Bones crunched, smacking the stone. The bike was shoved over by the force of our weight. All of us skidded across the pavement like scattered cargo. The shrill sound of metal scraping over stone pierced my ears. My head spun as I tumbled, not even comprehending any pain yet. The clip of hooves on the road echoed in my head like an alarm, telling me to get up. Run.
“Kovacs!”I felt Warwick’s call in my soul more than I heard it. My lids fluttered, and I turned my head to the gang. Their horses pranced and huffed as they took in the body of their fallen comrade a few yards from me. Then one of them leaned over, swiped up my bag, and without a second glance, steered their horses around and rode off.
“N-n-no...” I cried out, struggling to sit up. The need to run after them had me on my feet, picking up a gun and opening fire.
The shots ricocheted off the stone walls, mocking me with their empty threats as the gang continued to ride away.
“Nooooo!” I tried to run after them, limping, my arm twinging in agony as I continued to shoot, panic blanketing me with the need to not let them out of my sight.
“Kovacs!” Warwick wrapped his arms around me, yanking me back, ripping the gun from my hands. “Stop!”
“No!” I tried to wiggle from his embrace. “Let go! We have to goafter them!” He didn’t relent. “Do something!” I thrashed harder. “Or get the fuck out of my way!”
“No.” He grunted when my elbow dug into his gut.
“They have Opie and Bitzy. They have the journal,” I heaved, knowing they were too far to catch by now anyway, but logic didn’t matter. Tears prickled at my eyes. “Let me go! You fuckin’ pussy!”
He didn’t surrender his hold or move, but I could feel him explode around me, his anger and violence scraping and scratching against my skin, pushing in deeper, halting the air in my lungs. It only pissed me off.
“Get off me!” I kicked my heel into him.
I heard a soft groan and, at first, I thought it was Warwick, until the noise came again.
A louder grunt came from the man lying on the ground. Warwick’s arms dropped, clicking the gun he took from me, strolling over to the man and raising the weapon to his head.
I reacted on instinct.
