Page 86 of Riot’s Revenge

Brandi’s lips trembled slightly, and something in her expression told me she knew the truth as well as I did.

“No, no, no,” I murmured, tightening my grip on her hand, but a second later, her fingers slipped from mine.

I waited for them to move again, for her chest to rise, for another breath. But Nothing happened and the realization hit me like a physical blow.

I sat there frozen, covered in her blood and staring at her face, unable to accept what I was seeing. Only moments ago, she’d been standing beside me, alive and yelling at me to move. Now she was gone and no matter how desperately I waited for it, she never took another breath.

33

MARIA

I don’t know how long I sat there holding Brandi. The nurse side of me had left and I was just me.

At some point the gunfire stopped. The shouting didn’t. Voices echoed through the clubhouse, footsteps thundered up and down the stairs, and somewhere outside sirens wailed into the night. None of it seemed real.

Brandi’s blood was everywhere. It soaked through my jeans and coated my hands where I pressed uselessly against her wound. I knew she was gone. Every part of my training told me she was gone. I couldn’t make myself let go. Because she’d stepped in front of a bullet meant for me. The thought replayed endlessly in my head.

I should have moved. I should have done something. I should have⁠—

“Maria.”

The voice barely registered.

My gaze remained fixed on Brandi’s face.

“Maria.”

Strong hands gripped my shoulders.

I looked up to see Riot. His eyes traveled over my face before dropping to the blood covering my clothes, and the color drained from his face.

A curse slipped from his mouth. I’d never seen him look frightened before.

He dropped to his knees in front of me. “Where are you hurt?”

I stared at him as my brain struggled to catch up. “What?”

His hands were already moving, checking my arms, my shoulders, my stomach.

“Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not . . .” My voice cracked.

Riot grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. “Maria.”

The panic in his eyes made my chest ache. “I’m not hurt,” I whispered.

He checked me over twice again, then his eyes closed and the relief that crossed his face was so raw it made my throat tighten. His forehead rested briefly against mine, just for a second. Then he pulled away and looked down at Brandi and the relief vanished, but he didn’t ask what had happened.

“Ripper?” I managed.

Riot glanced toward the end of the hallway where the medical room was. “Alive.”

The air rushed from my lungs. He was alive. At least one good thing had come out of that night.

Before either of us could say anything else, heavy footsteps pounded down the corridor. It was the Police. The officers flooded the hallway with weapons drawn, shouting orders that echoed off the walls.

“Hands where we can see them!”