I bite my lips, other, darker words on the tip of my tongue. If he’d died, I don’t know how I would’ve gone on, exceptthat every Viper in the clubhouse would have been ash before morning.
“Patch!” I cry, sitting up as he comes into the room in sweats and an old tee. “Wings is bleeding. Head injury from a frying pan. And his hands and feet are so cold.”
“Then let’s fix him up.” Patch places his med kit on the edge of the bed and waves me over. “Come on. I need an extra pair of hands.” I scoot out from under the mound of blankets and he nods at the dresser. “Grab him some warm clothes while I check his temperature. Heating the core is the focus right now.”
I quickly grab a long-sleeved tee, hoodie, and sweats, while Wings sits up with an awkward laugh. “I wasn't in there long enough for all this fuss.”
“You have a head injury,” I snap, hurrying back to him with the clothes. “You could be confused! Maybe you were in there longer than you realize!”
“Abbie, focus.” Patch has taken Wings’ temperature and is now checking the cut on his head. It can’t be too deep, because he’s applying a bandaid instead of stitches. “Socks and blankets, then we cover him in the heat packs.”
“Sorry. Okay,” I mutter, helping Wings pull his cold clothes off and replacing them with the fresh ones. “What else? Should I go check on the milk?”
A warm hand wraps around my shoulder and Ark draws me back against his chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can relax now. He’s safe.”
I swallow around a throat full of glass shards. “I need to help,” I croak, leaning back against him. “What if…?”
But my question is lost in a roar from the hallway. Ark spins me behind him, while Pitt explodes from the bed. They both run for the door, and I follow, skidding to a halt as Jackpot smashes Threads in the face. He must be fueled by a lot of rage, because the bigger man hits the wall, and Jackpot spins to glare at me.His eyes are wild, but they dance with glee as Nitro and Crab come barreling up the stairs.
“You think you can round us up? Try to kick us out?” Jackpot sneers, his glare drilling into Ark. “All you’ve done is fuck this club up since you took over. And now you’re letting a bunch of stuck-up bitches lead you around by your knot. Booker would be rolling over in his grave.”
“Vipers are poison!” I spit, glaring back at him. “Always were, and age isn’t doing you any favors.”
“Mouthy as fucking ever.” Jackpot feints in my direction, but then lunges at Ark, while his goons converge on Pitt. Ark sweeps me behind him with an arm, and I press myself back against the door. I’d relish the chance to put Jackpot on his arse, but the hallway is tight, and there are already too many fists flying in every direction.
“You’re a soft fucking prick!” Jackpot hisses as he swings at Ark. “No wonder your old man used to whip you like a dog!”
I realize I haven’t seen Ark fight since I was a teen, and he’s clearly no boxer, doing nothing to get out of the path of Jackpot’s fist. It smashes into his cheekbone, but he barely flinches as he wraps a hand around the smaller man’s throat and lifts him off the floor.
“My old man was a coward and a sadist,” Ark says as he shoves him back against the wall. “But that’s history. Just like you.”
The snap of Jackpot’s neck is like a firecracker in the tight passageway, and Nitro backs away, hands in the air. Pitt uses the distraction to knock Crab out with a vicious undercut, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m looking around, counting bodies, when Nitro pulls a gun from his vest. The world seems to grind to a halt as the pistol swings our way.
“Fuck this club!” he yells, his eyes darting around the hall. “Fuck every last stinking Flyer!”
I’m trying to think of ways to get Ark down on the floor – he’s the biggest target by a mile – when Bluff looms up behind Nitro. The Viper’s eyes flash with dread, a protest bubbling from his lips, but Bluff is already slashing his hand across his throat.
“Fuck!” Pitt hisses, leaping back as the other alpha crumples to the floor in a spray of blood. “You didn’t just want to shoot him?”
“Too noisy.” Bluff inspects the butter knife he’s holding, then leans down to stick it in his boot. “And this was convenient, since I wasn’t sure what Wings wanted on his toast.”
He nods at a dinner tray balancing on the top step. It has a plate of toast and little jars of peanut butter and jelly, and I blink. It’s just too surreal given that my heart is still trying to claw its way out of my chest.
“Is that it?” I ask Ark, tucking my hands under my damp armpits. “Are we done?”
“We are here,” Ark says, pulling me back against his chest. It thumps hard against mine and I breathe a sigh of relief. Somehow, we’re all still standing. “But I want every Viper gone in the next hour. No exceptions. Clean house.”
I grip his arm, letting his warmth sink into my bones. Now that the terror is fading, my rage is coming back. “They should all go fucking south. Way, way fucking south. Got it, Ark?”
“Got it, butterfly.”
Wings and Patch appear behind us, Patch sighing as he glances at Threads. “I’ll need to take him to the clinic.”
“I can help,” Bluff says, while Ark herds the rest of us back into our suite.
I can hear other people opening doors, no doubt drawn by the commotion, but Ark just shakes his head. “Into bed. All of you.”
Pitt goes to wash his hands, but Wings and I leap for the covers. He wraps his arms around me, covering me in the mound of blankets. “Was that as insane as it sounded?”
