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“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I muttered. “You got him?”
“I got him,” Skylar nodded. “Let’s go.”
We half-dragged, half-carried Hassan away from the smoking wreck and towards the Escalade. Every minute was critical, and I hoped like hell that Zane was still with Justice because we didn't have time to waste. As soon as we had settled Hassan into the backseat, I grabbed my phone out of the pocket of my slacks.
"Dialing Zane," I murmured, my heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. Every second felt like an eternity as the phone rang before Zane's steady voice came through.
"Bash?" he questioned, concern lacing his tone.
"We're coming in hot, Zane." I rushed out, my eyes fixated on Hassan's ash-covered face in the rearview mirror. "Hassan's been in an explosion. He's conscious but disoriented."
“What–what did he just say about Hassan?” I heard Justice say in the background. “Is he okay?”
A heavy pause echoed over the line before Zane responded, and I could picture their faces. Justice, heartbroken, Zane angry.
I was always putting them in danger.
It had to stop.
"I'll be ready," Zane finally said.
Disconnecting the call, I tossed my phone on the dashboard and pulled out of the parking lot at full speed. Skylar kept his hand pressed against Hassan's bleeding forehead, trying to keep him awake with forced banter. But I could see the panic in his blue eyes. He was good at hiding his fear but not from me.
As we raced down the streets of Miami, the neon lights and towering palm trees were mere blurs that mirrored my tumultuous thoughts. Each beat of my pulse echoed with a haunting question: How did this happen? The De Lucas were always a threat but even with their extensive reach, this kind of direct attack felt totally unprecedented.
Had Isabella betrayed us?
What if she wanted to take the baby?
I swerved a bit and re-focused on the road, trying desperately to remind myself to breathe. Right now, we needed to worry about Hassan.
"Stay with me, mate," Skylar urged from the backseat, his voice echoing through the car like a grim anthem. As Hassan’s eyelids fluttered, a thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, making my heart lurch.
"Lay off him, Skylar," I barked more harshly than I intended. There was enough tension in the car without Skylar's incessant chatter.
"Just trying to keep him awake," Skylar shot back defensively. But he fell silent, and the only sounds filling the car were Hassan's ragged breaths intermingled with the incessant hum of the engine. He wasn’t talking anymore. That was bad. Maybe he needed to go to the hospital, maybe Zane couldn’t help.
"Okay, I was wrong," I said. "Keep talking."
The corners of Skylar's mouth twitched upwards in an attempt at a smile, and he squeezed Hassan's shoulder reassuringly. "You heard him, mate. I've got free rein to ramble now."
Despite his unsettling pallor, Hassan managed a weak chuckle, his gaze flickering to the rearview mirror where our eyes met. His smile didn't reach his eyes, but that fight in his gaze was all too familiar. He was going to fight. Hassan was always going to fight.
We arrived at the Knives' building within minutes, tires squealing against the dark pavement as we pulled up.
"He's probably downstairs," I said as I killed the engine. "Let's get you there, Hassan."
The three of us were stumbling out of the car, Hassan sandwiched between Skylar and me as we walked up to the building. The night was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos we'd just left behind. As I reached out to open the front door, my eyes landed on a dark object at the top of the steps. A cold chill ran down my spine, the hair on my neck standing straight.
I registered what it was a second too late.
"Shit!" I cursed. Darius' severed head lay there, his eyes wide open in terror, a pool of blood congealing around the macabre trophy under the lights.
Skylar let out a low growl, his arm tightening around Hassan.
“Is that…?” Hassan started, his voice weak, eyes bleary.
“Motherfuckers,” Skylar spat. “They’ll fucking burn for this, I’ll–”
