Metal clanged, feet shuffled, bodies hit the concrete. Jay punched a man mid-lunge. Keno disarmed another with a swift kick. Riot’s rifle barked twice, answered by screams.
I felt sweat running down my spine. My hands trembled, but adrenaline sharpened me. It was a long way from being a TA, but it was how I was brought up. My father didn’t believe that males got all the fun. Caleb and I were both trained to handle firearms, to shoot, to hunt, to survive.
I moved again, eyes on Jay. Every sense was acute. Every step mattered. We cleared the warehouse. Guns, drugs, and burner phones were all tossed into duffels.
“You held your own,” Jay said.
I exhaled, letting a ragged laugh escape. “Told you I wasn’t here to stir shit.”
Jay’s eyes narrowed and he pointed to the man I’d shot. “That guy, Malo, used to extract info with a crowbar.”
I didn’t flinch. “Then I’m glad I emptied my clip.”
Riot whistled. “Steel in her spine.”
Keno nodded. “More than some brothers in their first fight.”
Jay’s gaze lingered, respect, wariness, acknowledgment.
We slipped into the trees, the warehouse behind us burning. Heat brushed my back, flames illuminating the dark.
I drew a deep breath. Heart still hammering, lungs on fire. Every muscle screaming. Every sense alive.
I was in. All the way.
Purpose. Survival. Revenge. Every step forward from there was mine to take, and I was ready.
Chapter 27
Reaper
The warehouse was still burning when we pulled away. A dull orange glow in the trees behind us, smoke curling into the dark sky. Riot drove and Keno rode shotgun. Lucy sat beside me in the back, quiet, eyes on the dark trees blurring past the window. She didn’t look scared. She looked like she was lost in thought. Boxer, Link, and Finn sat opposite us, looking grim. They were bloodied from being ambushed outside, but none of them were too badly hurt.
We all needed to breathe, but none of us could. Not after what we’d found, and not after what we’d done. We had disrupted one of the Fangs’ warehouses and had the duffel bags full of their stuff in the back with us.
Later, the clubhouse was near-empty. The others had peeled off to clean weapons and patch wounds. I found myself in the kitchen, gripping a chipped mug like it might anchor me. Coffee, not whisky, the real poison came later, when the adrenaline wore off and the silence kicked in. Maria had made a stew that I’d eaten a little of, but my appetite had left me.
The door creaked open and Lucy stepped in. For a second, she lingered near the door like she wasn’t sure if she waswelcome. She was still in my clothes, Henley hanging loose on her frame, sleeves pushed up, trousers hugging her hips like they belonged there. Christ, she looked better in them than I ever had. Better than anyone. Some part of me, the part I tried hardest to bury, liked it. Too much.
I didn’t tell her that. Didn’t even let my eyes linger.
“You okay?” she asked, setting her own empty bowl into the sink and washing it down.
I didn’t look at her, I stared into the mug. “No,” I said simply.
She didn’t flinch and didn’t fill the air with words to make it easier. She waited, wiping the bowl and putting it away.
I finally looked up. “This is the point where you run,” I said.
“I’m still here.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
She crossed the room and stood close but didn’t touch me.
“I didn’t come this far to quit when it got real.”
I grabbed the edge of the counter.
