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So I knelt on the floor, too dazed to get up, waiting for the first woman I truly cared about to sacrifice herself willingly.
Selfish Caroline no more.
I knew she was doing this for more than herself, more for me—but for us, and for the Devils. For the future of Reno itself.
I hated the exchange. The attacks she barely missed. The terror that she would miss her mark. The fear that she would hit, but it wouldn’t make a difference.
Bang!
Blood exploded from Vane’s head.
It jerked back like someone had yanked a string through his skull. His dark eyes lost their rage, going wide in shock—just until the light went out.
Then he crumpled into a lifeless husk, dropping to the concrete with a meaty thud that seemed louder than the gunshot itself. Vane twitched once. Then stillness.
A horrifying amount of blood pooled from his head, spreading toward Caroline’s boots. She didn’t move as it stained the bottoms.
Vane was dead.
No drama. No last words. Just fucking dead.
I looked at Caroline. She was frozen, wide-eyed and breathing hard, still holding the gun up as it smoked.
She had killed the bastard. It was justice. Vane tried to hurt her, and she didn’t take that shit lightly. She got her revenge—and saved the Devils.
My brothers and I were just as frozen, gaping at Vane as if we hadn’t seen dozens of dead men before. They were all conscious now, battered, bruised, and bleeding, but alive.
And then they looked at Caroline.
Her arms went limp at her sides, and she let the gun clatter to the floor.
That was its own kind of trigger.
I lurched forward, pulling Caroline into a lung-crushing hug, kissing her wherever I could. She didn’t reciprocate at first, but then sobbed and flung her arms around my torso.
“He’s gone, baby,” I whispered into her blood-flecked hair. “He’s gone. Dead. You’re safe. You saved us. I’m so proud of you.”
While Caroline wept into my shirt, I looked up to see the Devils regrouping a distance away. Half of them limped, the other half gingerly touched fucked-up body parts. Brody was already tending to Mason’s stab wound with a big strip of his own shirt as a tourniquet.
Guilt started to cripple me.
Jackson? No way would he let that shit slow him down. He was already in leader mode.
“The Wolverines will be here any minute. Pray to whatever god you want that the spikes took enough of them out, then pray to another that it evened the numbers like we predicted. Bates,” he barked.
Caroline stiffened but didn’t acknowledge Jackson. A spark of pride zipped through my veins.
Jackson sighed heavily. “Caroline.”
I released Caroline from my embrace so she could face her greatest enemy. Her eyes were teary and puffy, but they burned with resilience, her chin tipped up. She wasn’t going to be intimidated by any man now.
“Where—” Jackson began.
“I’m glad you’re all alive,” Caroline interrupted. “Let this be proof I’m no longer affiliated with Walter Bates. Before you ask,” she continued with a bite. “There are first-aid supplies in one of the closets. I’ll lead you to them.”
Jackson, not pleased at being talked over, nodded curtly. “Lead the way, then.”
“Quickly,” Brody urged. “Mason. He?—”