Bull scrambled up behind her, grabbing her shoulders, trying to yank her back.
“Hold her!” Nash shoved her off hard enough to send her crashing sideways into the wall.
Bull went with her, trying to scramble away as she made her way back to her feet.
Nash’s eyes snapped to me, then to Taryn in my arms. “Put the bitch down. We need help.”
Something shifted in his expression. Cold. Calculating. “Do it if you want to remain part of this club.”
I gave him my own cold stare. “No.”
“Put her the fuck down and help me, Worthless.” He demanded, pissed at my inaction. “I’m your daddy.”
I didn’t move, barely blinking. “Not happening.”
The room stilled for half a second, and Nash stared at me in disbelief.
Then a crash came from deeper in the clubhouse.
“Fuck, there’s more of them!” Stain yelled.
Figures spilled from the hallway behind Bull.
Two.
Three.
More.
“Fuck!” Bull screamed, not able to take his eyes from Lynn.
Nash swore under his breath, backing up as his gun shifted between targets.
“Handle them!” He snapped at me. “Right…the fuck…now!”
I tightened my grip on Taryn. I could feel the heat of her through the blanket. The steady rise and fall of her chest.
Still here for now. Still human. And the only thing in this fucked-up world I cared about.
“Beck,” Stain said sharply. “We need to help your?—”
I shook my head once. “No.”
His eyes flicked from me to her. Then back to the hallway filled with movement.
It was time for him to decide—me, or what remained of the club.
I met his gaze. “I’m leaving.”
Another second, and that was all it took.
Stain exhaled hard, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said, hesitantly. “Yeah, I’m going with you.”
Behind us, Nash cursed. “Don’t you fucking?—”
I turned my back on him without hesitation.
Max was already moving, barking, clearing the path. The infected flooded into the room behind us in a wave.
