Page 157 of Chasing Ruin
“It’s Leila. I know.” A small, shaky smile pulls at my lips. “Go.”
Something in his face cracks at that. He nods, though his expression is still twisted with panic and something deeper—something raw.
He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, his hand squeezing the back of my neck.
Then he’s sprinting toward the empty hallway. Toward Leila.
“Fuck.”
I jump as Hound snaps, panic flashing across his face.
“Bull, take Charlotte to the van and stay with her,” he orders quickly, then turns to the prospects. “Lock this entrance down. None of their men get out of here with a pulse. Understood?”
They nod firmly—faces determined.
“What happened?” Bulldog asks, voice steady as he steps closer to me, his presence instantly protective.
“I—fuck—it’s Spike. Ruin’s on his comms but I lost the connection,” Hound says, jabbing at his phone, fingers moving too fast, too hard. “Fuck!”
Theo.
Spike.
Oh God. Are they okay?
The question lodges in my throat, heavy and suffocating, as my body starts to tremble all over again.
“Finally.” Hound exhales, pressing the device closer. “On my way, Ruin.”
He goes still, listening. Then his gaze flicks to me—sharp, intent. “She’s safe.”
Hound turns toward Healer, who’s already coordinating with Mihai’s men. “Healer, with me. Now!” he barks, already moving—before his voice softens, just slightly. “I’m coming, brother. Stay put.”
Healer doesn’t hesitate. He grabs his kit in one hand, gun in the other, and follows right behind him.
I clutch Wolf’s cut draped over me and follow Bulldog out. I should be relieved, perhaps even feel some sense of comfort from being surrounded by the club—having escaped that hell.
Bulldog asks me questions about my injuries. I respond numbly—my mind reeling with whatever is happening in this darkened building in front of me.
Minutes pass by, and I stay frozen. Perched on the edge of Healer’s medic van. Sitting in the open loading area.
Dread hums low and constant in my chest, a quiet, relentless vibration I can’t shake.
It isn’t until I see Theo’s unconscious body being wheeled out—slumped in a barely functioning wheelchair—that the dread finally detonates.
Something sharp clamps around my chest at the sight of him so still. Even though I can see his chest rising and falling as they rush him toward the medic van, panic claws its way up my throat.
“Oh God,” I whimper, my legs giving out beneath me as I drop to the ground.
“He’s okay. He just passed out,” Healer says quickly, the reassurance spilling out in a rush.
“Spike?” Bulldog asks from somewhere behind me, his voice tight with concern.
But I can’t look away from Theo.
I crawl forward, dropping fully to my knees as I press my fingers to his pulse. The steady thrum beneath my thumb makes my lungs finally expand.
He’s alive.
