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“Positions,” he mouthed, his command a ghost of movement against the dark canvas of the night. Like phantoms, his brothers fanned out, each man becoming a shadowy extension of Lucky's will.
Then, with a predator's precision, they struck.
It was over before it began—a flurry of calculated moves. The guards crumpled, neutralized, their threats extinguished as swiftly as they had risen. Lucky motioned them forward. Lucky navigated the building with an innate sense of direction, his mind etching the map he'd memorized onto the reality before him.
They turned a corner and hell broke loose.
Hell Speed members swarmed, their presence a sudden deluge of violence in the claustrophobic space. But The Watchmen were an unstoppable force. Hell Speed were civilians, The Watchmen were formally trained.
Fists flew, connecting with flesh in a primal dance of power and prowess. Lucky was at the center, his movements a blur of deadly grace. Each strike he delivered was a promise to Trinity—his Little Rabbit—that he was coming for her, that she would be safe again in his arms where she belonged.
The scent of sweat and adrenaline mingled in the air, punctuated by the sharp sounds of impact as Lucky and his men fought.
“Toward the back!” Lucky's command cut through the chaos as they pressed forward. As he poured over the maps, he’d zeroed in on where he’d hold someone hostage. It had been identified as the room where money was kept, awaiting the armored truck pickups. The bars on the window would make a perfect jail. But he’d been wrong before. They’d leave no space unturned in their hunt for Trinity.
Room after room, they cleared with lethal efficiency, leaving incapacitated bodies in their wake, a clear path emerging toward the back office. They were close now; Lucky could feel it in his bones, a searing heat that coursed through him, fueling him on.
TRINITY
The tumult outside the room rose to a crescendo, a symphony of chaos and hope that had Trinity's pulse thrumming in her ears. She lay still on the cold floor, the ropes cutting into her wrists a stark reminder of her vulnerability. She tried, and failed, to escape. She hadn’t given up hope. She laid there thinking of other plans. They’d come for her eventually and when they did, she’d be ready.
Now, she heard the chaos outside the door and knew Lucky was there. Beneath the fear and the helplessness, a spark ignited within her—the unmistakable roar of Harleys, the battle cries of The Watchmen. They were here.
Daddy was here.
“Time to be brave,” she whispered to herself, summoning every ounce of courage. In the dim light, her eyes adjusted, seeking out shadows, forms—anything she might have missed that might aid her escape. Her heart raced, not just with fearnow, but with anticipation. Each muffled grunt and thud beyond the door was a step closer to liberation.
Suddenly, the door burst open, splintering under the force of entry. Lucky, his eyes—those fierce, unyielding orbs—scanned the room until they locked onto hers.
“Trinity!” he roared.
“Daddy!”
With swift strides, Lucky knelt beside her, his hands working with practiced urgency to free her from the knots that held her. His touch, a blend of roughened calluses and tender concern, sent shivers down her spine.
“I got you, Little Rabbit. You're safe now. Daddy is here," he murmured.
“D-d-Daddy…” Her voice was hoarse, from hours of fear and silence.
“Nobody hurts what's mine.” His words were a vow, each syllable dripping with possessive heat. “You're mine, Trinity. And I'm taking you home.”
With her bonds discarded, Lucky cradled her against his broad chest, standing with a fluid grace that belied the deadly strength in his muscles. He wrapped her in his leather cut, the scent of him—oil and earth and unwavering resolve—enveloping her in a cocoon of safety.
“Watch my six,” Lucky commanded over his shoulder, his focus razor-sharp as he shielded Trinity with his body.
As they moved, Trinity clung to Lucky. With each step, the darkness of the room receded. The corridor was a gauntlet, the air thick with the stench of gunpowder. Trinity said a quick prayer, hoping it was none of theirs that had been on the receiving end of a bullet. She didn’t know how she’d live with herself if one of them were hurt or worse, saving her.
Lucky led the charge, his hand clasped firmly on Trinity's arm as they navigated through the chaos. When Hell Speedmembers lunged from the shadows, their faces twisted in rage and surprise. Watchmen would hit hard and fast. None got even close to touching Trinity.
“Move!” Lucky's voice cut through the din. His eyes—sharp, determined—scanned continuously as he maneuvered Trinity behind him. The Watchmen fought with military precision, bodies moving in sync as they incapacitated each assailant with non-lethal, practiced ease.
“Keep close, Little Rabbit,” Lucky murmured, his tone laced with protective ferocity. Trinity nodded, her own heart a drumbeat echoing his urgency. She had never felt more alive, more connected to him before.
They burst through the final doorway, emerging into the cool embrace of the night. The tension in Trinity's shoulders eased fractionally once she was out of the building.
“Mount up!” Lucky's command sent them scattering to their bikes. The roar of engines filled the silence. Trinity climbed onto the back of Lucky's Harley, her arms winding around him, her body pressing flush against his. She could feel the thrumming life of the motorcycle beneath them, this would be the best ride of her life.
Trinity's grip tightened around Lucky’s waist with each turn, her trust in him absolute. The night air whipped against her face, a refreshing cold, reminding her she was alive. The Rocky Mountains stretched in front of her, never looking more beautiful. Grand Ridge loomed on the horizon, a promise of safety within its limits.
