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“Bulletproof,” Koyn surmises, reaching me. The grenade in my hand itches to be used but I need to get it inside to kill those fuckers. “Get back,” I bark toward the brothers closing in.
Racing around the back of the car, gunfire hits the targets close by. Knowing my brothers have my back, I use the butt of my rifle and smash out the back taillight, dodging the jerking of the car as the driver attempts to get free. “Bye, bye, assholes.” Pulling the pin, I shove the grenade through the hole and run to take cover. The explosion is music to my ears, the satisfactory carnage stoking the darkness inside me. The blast happens too quickly for them to realize what I’ve done. The fire rips through the car, tearing some of the roof off before engulfing the metal in flames, leaving no cunt alive within it.
“Chase down any of the fuckers who ran,” Rage calls out to a crowd of brothers as he reaches me.
“Was that him?” he asks, blood splatter on his face, twin Glocks in his hands.
“Them,” I correct. “Fallaci brothers.”
“Did you see Fisher or any Lilith Army cuts?” He scours the bodies.
“Not from what I can tell.” I shake my head.
“They weren’t brothers,” Koyn calls out.
“You’re bleeding,” he informs me, pointing to my gut.
“Tore the stitches.” I shrug.
“Notice there are no police.” Rage waves his hands around.
“Copper said these fuckers had powerful ties,” Koyn reminds him. I know our club has ties with the local law, so not getting a heads up feels like a betrayal.
“They did us a favor with that one,” I remind him. It would be hard to justify our weaponry and the blood bath.
“Who took off in the SUV?” I ask, wondering if it was PB getting out of here before we could take him apart.
“Fuck knows, but we’ll find out. Let’s tend to the wounded and re-group. Fisher is still out there.” Rage holsters his weapons and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “The thing with the grenade…”
“You like that?” I quirk a brow.
“You’re not just a pretty face, brother.” He exhales on a chuckle and pats my cheek with his other hand.
Shoving him away from me playfully, I pocket the ring from the grenade, a token I’ll keep.
The lot is covered with bodies, mostly the enemy, but there are brothers amongst the dead—casualties we never wanted.
As we get closer to the club door, my heart sinks as Jameson runs toward me. “They’re not in there.” He’s out of breath, eyes manic.
“Who?” Rage frowns.
“The girls. They didn’t make it out of the SUV.”
My heart drops. A pounding roars in my ears as static energy sizzles in my veins. The ground trembles beneath my feet, a black mist consuming me. “Who the fuck was driving and where have they taken them?” Rage asks.
“Idiot.” PB walks over to us, his brow hanging low. “It’s Idiot,” he says again, almost in disbelief. “He’s the rat.”
I’m going to peel his skin from his bone. I’ll wear his fucking blood as war paint as I take him apart slowly. He will know agony before death comes for him. There will be nothing left to bury.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ruby
Chaos erupting all around us turns my blood cold. The crunching of metal being twisted and bent from the gate being smashed through shook the foundations of the car, the impact so loud it sounded like a bomb went off. Ezekiel and Jameson shout for us to go inside, but the door doesn’t budge as Lily pulls on it, and the child lock is engaged in the back to prevent mother from slinging herself out. “Oh god, Drew,” Melanie cries out, leaping over the backseat to climb into the front. The car Animal and Drew were in is upside down being rammed across the asphalt by what looks like a snow plow. Brothers pour out of the club, immediately engaging in crossfire.
“Get down!” I yell, yanking my mother’s head down to her knees as bullets pepper the club, a couple hitting the side of the car.
Melanie manages to get into the front seat and moves to open the passenger door just as Idiot jumps in on the driver's side.
“What’s going on?” Lily cries. For a spilt second, the thought runs through my head that he’s going to drive us around the side of the clubhouse to get us away from the gunfire. That turns to dust when he grabs a handful of Melanie’s hair and yanks her back into the seat while hitting the locks. Kicking the car into drive, he haphazardly darts away from the clubhouse toward the exit that was once a gate.
Leaping forward in my seat, I slap at him to get him to release Melanie as she wriggles, trying to free his hand from her hair.
“Let her go, you asshole,” I scream. Lily joins in and wraps her hands around his head, attempting to cover his eyes. We would rather crash and burn then let him leave with us. The way he’s manhandling Melanie shows his intentions are anything but good. The club has a rat, and out of all the people it could have been, it’s this little asshole.
