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Steady.
Sure.
Eve’s blue eyes lock with mine and she nods. Her face is covered in blood as though she’s a painting and the artist has decided to go from black and white to red.
Blood. Dark and almost syrupy spills toward my white Converse. I take a step back.
Cindy keeps screaming, then slides to the floor, rocking back and forth. Again, my eyes find Eve’s. She stands, moving toward Dewey.
Leah has already gotten a towel and is holding it to his ribs as she calmly asks for someone to get her son.
“Ryder. Call Ryder,” I yell, not letting go of my Glock.
“Julianna saved us.” Dolly sounds far away. I see Doug walk her outside. I smell vomit, and my eyes find Charlie puking as she cries and screams for David.
My ears ring and my fingers tingle. The smell of something burning, or maybe it’s the metallic smoke, is making my eyes water.
Seconds tick by, maybe hours. Time seems not to matter as I stand with the dead.
I’ve never seen death, much less thought I would play God.
I have no regrets.
Shoot to kill. His voice guided me.
“Julianna.” I blink as if he’s still in my head, yet he’s alive—a force that pulls me awake and lets me know everything will be alright.
Ryder’s warm hands hold my face. I look up into his golden-brown eyes, and it’s like looking into my own soul.
“You’re okay?” he says in a low growl.
I nod. “He was going to kill Eve. He was going to kill everyone.” He pulls my head tight to his chest. I can hear his heartbeat, strong, powerful.
“Give me your Glock, Bellezza.” He pulls back, taking it out of my hand and slipping it into the back of his jeans.
I hear no sirens.
“Julianna saved us,” Charlie screams. “He was going to kill us, kill all of us.” She shakes her head. “Thank you for killing him.”
She reaches for me and I hold her. We stand together. This must be what war feels like—a bond that happens when you somehow cheat death.
“Charlie.” David runs in and takes her into his arms as she weeps. The house is filled with Disciples. Blade is yelling, Ox is wrapping the corpse in plastic, Eve spits at it as he drags it away.
Axel takes Antoinette out while Blade holds Eve, his arm slung over her shoulder. She’s panting, probably from the remaining adrenaline, as he barks orders on the phone.
“Ryder, take care of Cindy.” I look over at her. She seems lost, almost as if she’s in another world.
He looks down at me, his eyes searching my face.
“I’m fine.” I nod at him. “She’s not.”
“Sit, I’ll be right back.” For a moment, he touches my cheek, then moves on.
All proof of what just went down is disappearing before my eyes. Almost as if nothing happened. The floors, the walls, all are being scrubbed clean. The smell of bleach makes my lungs and eyes burn.
Ryder walks over to Cindy and crouches down. She responds to his voice. Then he lifts her up and she clings to him as he walks her outside.
Where are the police? I should be scared, worried that I might go to jail, yet I’m not.
Ryder won’t allow it.
I won’t allow it.
“Julianna?” I blink up at David whose silver eyes hold so many painful memories, yet they seem clear right now.
“Is Charlie okay?” I stand.
His eyes mist with tears and his nostrils flare. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
I shake my head. “You owe me nothing. Ryder’s who taught me.”
“I owe you everything,” David says. “Thank you.” He turns and walks toward the front door. Passing Ryder, he says something to him.
Ryder’s eyes find mine.
Everything stops, and I shiver. I can feel the rage that lives and breathes like a beast inside him. As he walks toward me, his energy, real and powerful, envelops me.
Consuming is the only word that comes to mind.
He reaches me, holding my face with both hands. Looking at me as if he’s in pain, I know that everything has changed.
There is no going back.
RYDER
Present
Disciples’ clubhouse
Burbank, CA
“We’re on lockdown,” I snarl at Rip. “See to it.”
Not stopping to say more, I move forward. My loyal brothers stand in a line as we pass. Some say, “Thank you”…others stay quiet as they show their respect to me, but mostly to my Julianna.
My fucking jewel.
She looks startled, blinking up at me for guidance. But she needs none. She was born to be worshipped, admired for her kindness and fierce strength.
I let her go up the stairs first, and she nods at them while we pass. When we get to my door, my head pounds. The rage, guilt, and fucking fear have me on autopilot.
Fear.
My greatest tormentor. I don’t allow it because once it’s infiltrated into your bloodstream, you might as well put a bullet in your head. I almost kick my door open, and when we enter, I bolt us in.
