Page 52 of Triplets for the Rival MC

“I see it,” he replies calmly.

The SUV maintains speed, and the trucks close the distance. They’re too close for comfort. My pulse shifts, heart thudding in my chest. At this speed, a crash would be fatal. We all ease off the gas. The truck follows suit, choosing not to overtake the SUV, but the one in the back does, rapidly moving past us. We crest a small rise in the road where construction barriers narrow the lanes. The truck has slowed, boxing us in. I curse under my breath.

Two bikes shoot out from a side access road ahead, blocking Flint’s path. The black truck accelerates from behind, further boxing the SUV in. The vehicle swerves, slamming on its brakes in front of Cyrus, forcing him to brake hard.

“Ambush!” Smoke shouts.

Gunfire erupts; the crack splits the air. Bullets spark against asphalt. One shatters the SUV’s rear window in a violent explosion of glass.

“Tori!” I roar into the comm.

Cyrus’s voice cuts through, sharp and controlled. “We’re okay!”

Flint guns his engine and slams into one of the blocking bikes, sending it skidding sideways. I peel off to the right, firing as I move. Smoke and Drifter swing wide, trying to break the trap. The trucks screech to a halt, and doors fly open. Raging Bulls pour out. There are at least twelve of them, all heavily armed.

King steps out of the front truck like he’s stepping onto a stage. I realize then that this isn’t a random impulse attack. This was planned, carefully coordinated. They knew we’d be driving this stretch of road today, knew of our hospital appointment, and they correctly anticipated that we wouldn’t be out in full force.

My blood runs cold as King’s triumphant eyes lock on the SUV. That’s the target. They haven’t come to take us down, to kill us while we’re outnumbered; they’ve come for her.

“Stay in the car!” I shout, even though I know Tori can’t hear me over the gunfire.

Cyrus throws his door open and fires from behind it, using the SUV as cover. I see Tori duck low in her seat, hands over her belly. Flint barrels straight toward King, firing in controlled bursts. Smoke drops one Bull trying to flank the passenger side. Drifter takes another in the leg. The road fills with smoke and shouting and the sharp metallic scent of gunpowder. But I notice that their shots are going wide, preventative, on the defense, not offense. King doesn’t fire, allowing his men to cover him as he strides purposely toward the SUV.

Two of his men push closer to the SUV on Tori’s side. I swing around and take one down before he reaches her door, the other retreats under heavy fire. Cyrus shifts position, shielding Tori as best he can while returning fire.

King shouts over the chaos, “Get her out! Don’t damage her!”

Damage her, like she’s property, not a person. Rage explodes through me, and I ignore Flint shouting my name as I charge forward. I tackle one Bull who reaches for the door handle and knock his gun from his grasp, sending it skittering out of reach. We hit the asphalt hard. I smash my fist into his face until he goes limp.

Smoke’s voice cuts through the noise. “More coming from the rear!”

The road is boxed, there’s no way past them, and the side of the road is lined by dense woodland. We’re outnumbered, and there’s nowhere to run.

King finally draws his gun, pointing it at the SUV. He moves fast, using the chaos as cover. Before I can intercept him, he yanks open the door and drags Tori halfway out of the seat.

Cyrus lunges, trying to clamber through the car to her, but King slams the gun into his jaw and shoves him back. Tori gasps as King jerks her upright, one arm locking around her shoulders. He holds a gun to her head, and everything stops. Even his own men hesitate. The silence in the absence of gunshots is almost as loud as the air grows thick with anticipation.

“Back up!” King roars. “Or she dies!”

Flint freezes mid-stride, lowering his weapon. My hands shake with restrained violence as I do the same. Tori stands there, dust and broken glass clinging to her dress, pregnant belly protruding. She looks so vulnerable, her eyes wide and fearful as she holds her stomach protectively.

“You’re coming home,” King snarls in her ear. “This ends now.”

“I’m not your property,” she says. She’s so brave, even with a gun to her head, she won’t let him win.

He tightens his grip. “You don’t have a choice, you belong to me.”

“I’d rather die,” she snarls.

King chuckles. “So brave. But we both know that’s not true. Perhaps if you didn’t have your men filling your head with ridiculous notions, you would finally learn your place.” He cocks the gun, the sound hitting me like a blow, and I freeze. “If any of the Ghost Riders’ fire another shot or take one more step, I’ll blow her brains out.”

Something in the wild look in his eyes and in the venom of his voice tells us he’s being serious. He’d kill his own pregnant daughter just to win. If he can’t have her, he’ll take her from us out of spite.

He looks at his men, spittle flying from his mouth as he barks his orders. “Kill them. It’s time we rid ourselves of the Ghost Riders once and for all.”

The command hangs in the air. No one moves.

“Kill them,” he repeats. “Like shooting fish in a barrel, they won’t fight back to save her. We can end this right here, right now.”