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It’s not over. Nogales’ parting words echo in my mind as the sirens draw closer.
“Woo,” Dix grins and lets out a loud whoop. “One less fucking headache in my life.”
He’s right, but it all feels anticlimactic. Nogales and Hector are dead, their MC nothing but a memory. We should feel better, but it’s quiet and almost somber as we head to our bikes to ride back to the clubhouse. The air is tense as fuck, as if we all know that this is the end of one war but another is coming down the pipeline any day now.
Inside the clubhouse, the women all fall silent when we enter. Their eyes laser in on us, trying to figure out why the atmosphere changed instantly. Gia speaks first. “What’s up, guys?”
“The Iron Kings are done,” Ace growls.
The women cheer, but even the sound is subdued because we aren’t happier about it. The women pass shots and beers around, reading our emotions correctly.
Ace downs a shot and slams the shot glass on the bar before he turns to us. “We’ll talk about lifting lockdown in a few days. First, we have to be sure there’s no more fucking heroes out there, looking to retaliate for the fate of the Iron Kings.” He nods and walks away, McKenna joining him as he leaves through the back door.
The rest of us sit around and drink, play pool and try not to think about what’s coming next.
A full-blown war with a cartel we know nothing about.
Chapter Twenty-One
Willow
As I slowly regain consciousness, the first thing I see is Joaquin's sleeping face. He looks peaceful, and for a moment, I feel reassured. But then the memories of what happened flood back to me, and panic wells up inside me.
I take a deep breath and try to bring myself back into the present moment.
“You’re awake.” Maven’s voice pulls my gaze from Joaquin, and I scan the room until I spot the sweet smile on her face.
“Yeah. You’re here,” I say through the haze.
“Of course I am,” she says. “We were so worried about you.”
I slowly sit up, feeling the grogginess slowly fade away, but pain rips through my back and chest.
“Ooh, that hurts.” I lean back against the bed with a tired sigh. “How long have I been here?”
“A while,” she says, and her gaze darts away from mine. “A long time, Willow.”
“Did you call my mom? She has to be worried about me. Or pissed.”
Maven comes closer to the bed, a serene expression on her face. “She knows everything. Joaquin asked me to call her after your first surgery. I listen to Maven explain that Mom’s been here on and off for days to check on me. “They’ve been in constant contact. Apparently.”
“F-first surgery?” I shake my head as those words sink in. I don't know what happened over the past week or two.
She nods and takes her hand in mine. “It was bad, Willow. But you’re going to be okay.”
“I just hurt a lot.”
“Well, you did get shot. And the bullet that hit you was tipped with a hallucinogenic and a poison. You had a really bad reaction to it. They did a second surgery to remove the remaining bullet fragments, and that’s when the tests showed the poison.”
My breathing turns shallow, and I feel as if I might hyperventilate. “Damn,” I say, trying to control my breathing.
“It’s okay, babe. Calm down,” Maven says softly.
I want to calm down, but I can’t. As much as I thought I was going to die, hearing how close I came to dying—twice—freaks me out.
“I’m calm,” I tell her around a few shallow breaths. “Totally calm.”
She smiles. “Yeah, honey. Just breathe. I know it sounds bad, but you’re over the worst of it. Now it’s just pain and antibiotics.” Maven turns to Joaquin, still passed out in the chair. “He’s been by your side every free moment. I think this is the first time he’s slept since you were shot.”
