Page 85 of Riot’s Revenge

For a brief moment, his expression softened. His hand came up to cup my cheek, the rough brush of his thumb strangely gentle compared to the gunfire and shouting surrounding us.

“Go,” he said quietly.

Then he was gone, disappearing back into the chaos before I could say another word.

I stood there for a second, struggling to make sense of the chaos unfolding around me. Only moments ago, the clubhouse had been loud and crowded. Now people were running for cover, voices overlapping in panicked shouts as brothers rushed toward the gunfire. The smell of gunpowder burned the back of my throat. Swallowing hard, I forced myself to move toward the rear hallway, trying not to think about what might be happening at the front of the building. My hands were shaking so badly I had to curl them into fists.

I was almost at the stairs when someone came around the corner so fast, I nearly walked straight into them.

“Jesus,” I gasped, stumbling backwards.

Ripper swore as he caught hold of the wall to steady himself. His jeans were half done up and his kutte hung open, making it painfully obvious what he’d been doing before the attack started. Brandi appeared behind him a moment later, her red hair a complete mess and her lipstick smudged.

A thunderous crash ripped through the hallway as the back door exploded inward, wiping everything else from my mind instantly.

All three of us turned toward the doorway. A man stepped through the opening with a handgun already raised, his leather kutte marking him as a King before I even registered the patch. The sight of him sent a wave of cold dread through me and I felt the blood drain from my face.

For a moment his gaze moved between the three of us, assessing the hallway, then his eyes found me and the smile that spread across his face was worse than the gun. “There she is. Riot’s whore.”

My heart seemed to stop. The barrel swung toward me, and suddenly, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything except stare as he took aim.

Ripper reacted first. He launched himself in front of me just as the shot rang out. The sound was deafening in the confined space, and I watched in horror as blood sprayed from his shoulder and splattered against the wall behind him. He hit the floor with a sickening thud.

A scream tore from my throat, then Brandi grabbed my arm and yanked me backwards. “Move!” Brandi shoved me backwards with far more force than I expected. I stumbled onto the stairs just as another gunshot rang out through the hallway.

Something hit me, I fell back, banging my head on one of the steps. For a split second, I thought I’d been shot. Then I realized it was Brandi. She’d crashed into me with enough force to knock me backwards, her body shielding mine as we fell.

I stared up at her, confused, trying to understand what had happened, then I saw the blood. A dark stain was spreading rapidly across the front of her shirt, growing larger with every passing second.

My stomach dropped. “No.” The word barely made it past my lips.

Brandi stared down at the blood spreading across her shirt before lifting her eyes to mine. The look on her face stopped my heart. She looked confused, as though she couldn’t quite understand what had happened.

I lunged forward and caught her as her knees gave way. The warmth of her blood soaked instantly through my hands, and I pressed them against the wound on instinct, desperately trying to stem the flow. Training took over automatically. Apply pressure. Keep her talking. Keep her conscious, but it wasn’t just a patient. It was Brandi.

Brandi, with her sharp tongue and endless confidence. Brandi, who never seemed to care what anyone thought of her. Brandi, who I’d spent months trying not to hate after finding her in Riot’s bed and she’d just taken a bullet for me.

My throat tightened. “Stay with me,” I begged, pressing harder against the wound. “Come on, Brandi. Look at me.”

Her breathing hitched beneath my hands and fresh blood welled between my fingers no matter how much pressure I applied. The sound of each breath sent a fresh wave of panic through me. It was wet and uneven, the kind of breathing that every part of my training told me was very, very bad.

“Please,” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice.

Movement caught my eye, the King had taken another step toward us and my stomach churned as he raised his gun again.

“Nobody left to save you now.” He grinned.

I knew I should move, that I should drag Brandi out of the way or throw myself over her or do something, but I froze. Fear rooted me to the spot, leaving me staring helplessly as the barrel swung in our direction.

The gunshot that followed was deafening. I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain, but nothing happened. I opened them again to see the King jerk violently before crumpling to the floor.

For a second I simply stared, my mouth opening and closing, unable to understand what had happened. Then my gaze dropped to Ripper. He was still lying where he’d fallen, one arm stretched out in front of him. The pistol trembled in his hand as he lowered it, and a second later his head dropped back against the floor.

The hallway seemed to fall strangely silent. Not truly silent. I could still hear shouting from downstairs, the distant wail of sirens and the chaos continuing throughout the clubhouse, but all of it felt far away.

Brandi’s hand found mine. The movement was weak, barely more than a twitch, but I grabbed hold of it immediately and looked down at her.

Tears blurred my vision. “You’re okay,” I whispered.