“Fuck.”
“We’re okay.” I looked at Fighter. He was fading, his skin going pale and his hands cold. His breathing was growing more and more labored. He needed help and quickly. “We need your help. Fighter’s not doing too well.”
“Where are you?”
I looked around us, seeing the old farmhouse I used to hang around in with Scratch when I was younger.
I gave him directions to our location. “We’re going to keep going, though. It’s not safe to sit and wait.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Rider?”
“Yeah?”
“Get here fast, please.”
He grunted an okay and hung up and I looked over at Fighter, watching how he was fighting a wave of dizziness. I was exhausted and in pain. But mostly, I was confused by everything that had just happened. My life had done a complete 360 in the past couple of weeks, and instead of the strong woman I thought I was, I felt weak and vulnerable. I gritted my teeth, searching for some strength within me, because I couldn’t give up now; I had to keep going. I owed him that, at least. After everything.
“It’s okay, we’re going to be okay. They’re on their way, baby,” I soothed. “Just hold on.”
He glanced over at me and tried to smile. “Baby?”
“Shut up.” I smirked.
He blinked sluggishly, his expression looking pained. The blood from the knife tracks had stopped flowing and had started to dry in sticky red lines down his face, cracking whenever he changed his expression.
“You’re going to be all right,” I said with determination.
“So are you,” he replied.
I placed my hand on top of his. “Because of you.”
He shook his head. “No, because of you. You’re so strong,” he said, his words filled with awe.
*
A rumble in the distance that sounded like a thunderstorm had me looking up. I watched a cloud of smoke appear on the horizon, and from that cloud six bikes and a van appeared, speeding toward us before coming to a screeching halt. A big man with a thick black beard climbed off his bike and came to Fighter’s side, reaching him before Gauge or Rider could. He threw an arm around Fighter and pulled him up.
“Help her first,” Fighter grunted, attempting to shrug out from under the other man’s grip. “Battle! Her first.”
“Stop being a fucking martyr and get in the van, dick breath!” Battle replied. “We’ve got her.”
Gauge scooped me up like I was a piece of straw and placed me in the van while Rider and another man with long, waist-length hair tied back helped get his bike on the back of a trailer attached to the van.
“Fighter,” I called to him, and he looked up at me, finally allowing Battle to help him into the van. He lay down across the seats, resting his head on my lap. The longer-haired man dropped to his knees next to us and pulled out a medical kit as the door slammed shut and we started to pull away. Fighter’s eyes rolled back in his head, almost like he knew he could rest now that I was safely with his brothers.
“I’m Axle,” the man said, looking up at me. He had the kindest face I’d ever seen, and his sincere expression made a sob claw its way up my throat. “What the fuck happened to him?”
I looked down at Fighter and shook my head, not knowing where to even begin. I was finally taking stock of his face and the mess Razuuk had made of it. Two long, deep gashes were sliced down his face from forehead to chin, just like he’d done to Scratch all those years ago and any other man that had looked at me since. Only this time, Fighter had stayed and fought for me. He had stood up to my dad, refusing to back down. He’d paid in blood and money for me, but it wasn’t dirty or cheap, it was beautiful.
He coughed and I stroked a hand through his hair gently. His face was covered in dry blood and purple bruises, and his left cheek was swelling something fierce. But it didn’t matter. He was still my dark angel, broken, both inside and out, strong and loyal.
I leaned over him and placed a kiss on his bloody forehead as my tears dampened the blood on his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against his cold skin. I gripped his hand tightly in mine, squeezing it as hard as I could, and feeling anguish when he didn’t squeeze back.
“So you’re her?” another voice said from the front seat.
