Page 16 of Saint’s Revenge

Demon is dead.

And somehow, impossibly, we're all still alive.

Chapter 4 - Riley

I fade in and out on the ride back.

Consciousness comes in fragments: the rumble of the engine beneath me, the cold wind cutting through my clothes, Lucas's arm tight around my waist holding me upright. Pain radiating from my ribs every time we hit a bump in the road. The smell of smoke and blood and leather.

Then darkness again.

When I surface next, we're slowing down. The engine noise drops from a roar to a rumble. I force my eyes open, try to focus through the haze of pain and exhaustion.

Gates. Tall metal gates opening in front of us. A fence stretching out on either side, and security cameras mounted on posts.

We're somewhere. Somewhere that feels protected. Fortified.

The clubhouse.

Lucas's arm tightens around me as we roll through the gates. "Almost there," he murmurs against my ear. "Stay with me just a little longer."

I try to nod. Not sure if I succeed. Everything hurts too much to tell.

We pull into a parking area: rows of motorcycles already lined up, these ones different from the eight that rode with us. The engines cut one by one until it's quiet except for the ringing in my ears.

Lucas shifts behind me. "I'm going to pick you up now. It's going to hurt."

"Okay," I whisper. Or think I whisper. Hard to tell if the word actually comes out.

He dismounts, then reaches for me. Slides one arm under my knees, the other around my back, and lifts me off the bike. I can't stop the loud whimper that escapes.

"I know. I'm sorry." His voice is rough. Strained. "Just breathe through it."

I try. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Shallow breaths that don't expand my ribs too much. It helps. A little.

Lucas carries me toward a building, former warehouse by the look of it, converted into something else. Lights on inside. Voices filtering out through the open door.

We pass the other men on the way. I catch glimpses through half-closed eyes: tall man with long hair, another with short dark hair and sharp eyes, lean one covered in tattoos. They all look at me as we pass. Faces I don't recognize. Names I don't know. Some watch with concern. Some with curiosity. None with hostility.

That's something, at least.

The door opens before we reach it. A woman stands there: curvy like me, but auburn hair cut short and green eyes wide. She takes one look at me and steps aside immediately.

"Medical room," she calls over her shoulder. "Get her to the medical room."

Lucas doesn't break stride. Carries me through a common area, couches, chairs, a bar, people everywhere, and down a hallway. Another door. This one opens into a room that smells like antiseptic and looks like a hospital.

Hospital bed in the center. Monitoring equipment, and cabinets full of supplies. Bright lights overhead.

Lucas sets me down on the bed as gently as he can, but I still make a sound. Can't help it. Everything hurts.

"I need to examine you," he says. "Need to see how bad the damage is."

I nod slightly. Close my eyes.

He checks my pulse first, fingers on my wrist, counting under his breath. Then my pupils, shining a light in my eyes that makes me wince. Then my jaw, pressing gently along the bone.

"Possible fracture here," he murmurs. His voice cracks slightly on the last word.