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“Just outside. I’ll be back,” he says it again.

But there’s a rush in his voice, a tinge of deception. He received orders. And he’s walking out of here without looking Trevor in the eye. That’s not by accident. Something is about to happen.

My pulse quickens.

Trevor doesn’t register any of it, but he is still suspicious. Before he can call Jake out, the VP of the Silver Stallions is out the door. He goes over to the window to watch him leave.

“Wait, where are they going?” he mutters, sounding increasingly alarmed.

“What’s going on?” I ask innocently.

“The Stallions. They’re following Merritt.” He steps out onto the porch to bark orders at the remaining security staff. “You three, stay here. You, you, and you, start moving around the perimeter.”

“They ain’t comin’ back, hoss,” I hear one of the goons tell him.

“Do your fucking jobs. I paid you for it.”

“There ain’t enough of us anymore, not if the sheriff comes up here.”

“Did I stutter?” Trevor snaps. Five seconds later, he comes back into the lodge, his face crimson with rage.

“Trevor?”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I’m pretty sure that stunt you pulled earlier just cost me my alliance with the MC,” he says, then takes out a knife and cuts the rope from around my wrists. “Get up.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“We’re not staying here. It’s obviously no longer safe.”

“Wait, I can still help you—” I try, but he points the gun at my head.

“Move, Tassia.”

32

LUCAS

“Go, go, go,” I tell Mitch and Tyler.

They break away from my side as we walk up the ridge leading to the side of the lodge while Jake Merritt and the rest of his Stallions rush down to their bikes to get away from what’s about to happen.

“Team Bravo, coming in from the east,” Patterson’s voice comes through my earpiece. “ETA five minutes.”

“You heard her, boys,” I tell Mitch and Tyler through the comms system. “We’ve got five minutes.”

Thankfully, Dexter got his men to back down, which leaves us with about ten hired guns to deal with, and they’re in our line of sight now. We move fast in the darkness of the night, like shadows, light on our feet, having left mercy far behind.

One of the men turns and spots us coming, raising his gun to fire. Tyler shoots first and takes him down. Two other men turn their weapons on him, but I take them out, while Mitch handles two more on his side.

“Cover me!” Tyler shouts and bolts toward the porch. A few moments later, we hear his voice thought the comms system. “She’s not in here.”

A dark-haired mountain of a man bursts out of nowhere from my left and rams into me. I hit the ground hard, waves of pain shooting through my left side.

“Fuck,” I growl, unable to reach my weapon in time.

He starts throwing punches. My ears ring and blood bursts from my lip. I manage to stick a knee between us and push back. He falls away and tries to come at me again, but not before a bullet flits through the air and pierces his neck. It goes in on the left and breaks out on the right, causing a jet of blood to spray over his shoulder.

A moment later, he collapses.