Page 35 of Knox (The Devil’s Luck MC #6)

CAROLINE

V ane was a one-man ambush. Against five battle-hardened Devils—men carved from violence, each carrying more scars than they could count—he didn’t just hold his own. He fucking dominated.

He didn’t even have a gun. The ridiculous amount of knives on his person… Somehow, they were more formidable than six guns.

The cherry on top? He wore a fucking bulletproof vest.

If I wanted to kill Vane, I had two options: shoot him between the eyes—or blow his fucking dick off.

And honestly? The latter would be far more satisfying—no. It would be justice .

Ruin the part that was going to ruin me. Bleed and die for all the pain he had caused to his victims in the worst way a man could imagine.

The Devils were good shots—especially Jameson, the former Texas Ranger—but none of them were trained like Vane. Or Jameson, for that matter.

The rest of them? They got by on the skin of their teeth. They were street-smart bastards born from shitty homes, broken families, and found families. Bruises and blood were currency for them—but after battling against my father’s Wolverines for years, they had no desire to spend any more.

The Devil’s Luck survived shit no one else should. That made them dangerous.

But even with that grit, Vane was something else. He was a monster from the bottomless pit of hell.

As predicted, Vane targeted me first.

He unsheathed a knife in each hand, roaring like a charging bull—and moving just as fast.

I wasn’t the best shot. No way I could kill him in the heat of the moment.

But I wasn’t the worst. I learned to handle a gun at twelve years old. Maybe I could just slow him down.

I aimed.

Fuck you, bastard.

Brody shouted, “No!”

I pulled the fucking trigger.

The bullet grazed Vane’s bare arm enough to make him jerk and stagger, spraying blood, but not stopping him. It just made him angrier.

Now my ears were ringing, and he was going to kill me.

Caroline, you stupid bitch.

But I kept shooting.

Bang!

Bang!

Ba—

Brody shoulder-checked my body out of the way. If he hadn’t, Vane would have slammed right into me.

None of my shots hit vital areas. They all slammed harmlessly into his body armor.

Brody was the first to engage Vane. Guns, knives, and fists clashed and collided.

Mason was barking orders at Abel, Grant, and Jameson, a new plan to override the initial one. They couldn’t start shooting at Vane lest they hit Brody.

But Brody was too engaged in the vicious fight to hear the commands. Vane knocked Brody’s gun arm up, firing it into the air.

I was used to gunshots. The ringing in my ears didn’t bother me—it was just another day at the office. That wasn’t what made me flinch. That wasn’t why my finger almost twitched on the trigger again.

Groomed to be my father’s puppet, his shadow, his Wolverine kit, I’d been surrounded by his men my whole life. Violence didn’t faze me; I’d watched bodies drop without blinking damn near monthly.

Those men were nothing more than tools—fucked-up coworkers in a blood-soaked business. If they died, I lost nothing.

I had liked being heartless.

But Knox made me care . And that ruined everything.

The Devils were his family. And they had already lost Gabriel because of me.

Even if they were cruel to me, reminding me that I was still my father’s daughter, I was determined to prove that wasn’t who I was anymore.

I was, as Knox joked, a new me .

I cared now. About people. About lives. That was an entirely new feeling. It was a shitty new feeling.

Feelings. Ew.

But there was no undoing it. I couldn’t un feel. All I could do now was finish what I started. I was going to kill my father—for the sake of the people I cared about because of my feelings for Nate.

And maybe, eventually, for my own damn sake, too.

I deserved freedom if it was the last thing I fucking did.

But damn did I want Knox to get here faster.

His five brothers were fighting for their lives against one bastard of a man.

Brody’s gun went skidding, metal scraping against concrete. Before I could think it through, I lunged for it. In that split second, the only Devil who showed me a shred of human decency was punched so hard I heard bone crack.

I whirled as Vane started wailing on Brody like he was the source of all evil. Thank fuck—his brothers were there to haul Vane away and attack him in a swarm.

More blood sprayed, more bones cracked, more chaos unfolded.

It was all so fucking fast and more brutal than I had ever seen—and that was really saying a lot.

I felt so fucking useless.

But like hell if I was about to stay that way.

I bolted across the floor toward the mezzanine stairs—right as Mason roared in agony. The sound pierced through my very soul.

I spun to see Mason stagger back, a huge-ass knife protruding from his shoulder. Vane wheezed with laughter, already turning to the next Devil.

No.

Mason stumbled, catching me in his peripheral vision. For a moment, the world stopped spinning. It was only our stare that mattered.

What I was going to do next—he was going to think I was a coward.

But I wasn’t. He just couldn’t see it yet.

So I turned and ran—not away, but toward a purpose. I flew up the stairs, Mason’s glare burning my back.

The mezzanine was full of forgotten boxes with layers of dust, nothing anyone ever gave a shit about. The warehouse was supposed to be temporary—no one even thought about settling in.

And now?

Now it was the perfect vantage point to rain hell from above and put a bullet straight through Vane’s black heart.

Like divine fucking judgment.

My pulse was hammering in my ears, but it barely drowned out the noise.

The sounds were the worst. More grunts. More punches. More missed gunshots.

We were so unbelievably fucked.

“Knox,” I whispered, “please get here, you stupid idiot.”

I didn’t know if Vane was beatable, but I knew one thing: if the Devils didn’t stop him, I would be trapped alone—and that scared me shitless.

Vane couldn’t leave this warehouse alive.

Suddenly, a door banged open, and footsteps pounded closer. My heart lurched into my throat with such relief that I wanted to weep.

Knox and Jackson.

“Finally, the fucking cavalry,” I breathed, my voice cracking, gripping my gun until my knuckles turned white in the ugly fluorescents above.

More chaos ensued—and then I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Vane and Jackson ran by. I watched them beat the ever-living shit out of each other. Vane was my target and I tuned everything else out. I had to wait until he was alone without anyone in the crossfire.

Still, I barely heard the footsteps crashing up the stairs.

“Caroline.”

Knox.

I wanted to run to him—but I kept my cool. I couldn’t be emotional. I had to focus. We met gazes, and it was as if he read my mind.

He nodded in understanding. I thought he would leave, but he stepped forward and held out a bloody knife.

I took it. Our fingers brushed. A spark between our skin turned into a shiver down my spine. Suddenly, there were a hundred things I wanted to say to him.

I opened my mouth, but Knox closed the distance in one step, sealing my lips with a desperate kiss.

When he pulled away, he ruined the moment.

“You can’t do shit up here, baby girl,” he said quietly, intensely.

“Hell I can’t,” I snapped immediately. “I have the perfect vantage point to?—”

From below, Jackson roared, “Knox!” and then the sound of bone against bone.

Knox’s eyes flashed, turning wild. “Downstairs, Care. Shoot when it matters. I?—”

“Come out, Caroline!”

My blood turned to ice. Knox’s expression turned so dark with hate and rage that I feared him for the briefest moments.

“Come out, Royal Flush,” Vane crooned in his deep, mocking voice. “I have unfinished business with you both. I have a knife to your president’s throat, if you want to come see.”

Knox’s already stiff posture stiffened impossibly further. His fingers tightened on his gun.

“I’ll give the count of ten before I slit his throat like a pig.”

Fuck. No.

Knox looked sharply at me with such authority that I felt compelled to obey whatever he said next. I would have preferred it in the bedroom, but that wasn’t a luxury we could afford right then. Blood now. Sex later.

Vane kept taunting. One of the Devils shouted, “Get your asses down here!”

“ Ten !”

“Get up,” Knox ordered in a hiss, not entirely unkindly, “and stay behind me. If you have a clear shot of him, shoot.”

“He has a vest.”

“ Nine !”

Knox made a disgusted face. “Of course he fucking does. Head or dick, I guess.”

I fought a smile. “Great minds, Nate.”

“Huh?”

“ Eight !”

“Nothing. Let’s kill this motherfucker.”

“That’s my girl.”

Knox descended the stairs first, and I was just behind, but neither of us abandoned our guns or raised our hands in surrender.

“ Seven —”

Vane had Jackson in a chokehold with a knife slicing into his cheek.

Their eyes were both wild, bodies twitching to keep the upper hand.

The size of Vane’s arm made Jackson’s look like a twig.

The other Devils were still scattered, too banged up to intervene.

Even if they could act, they didn’t. It would only complicate the delicate situation.

This was between me and Vane now.

“What do you want, Vane?” I said, forcing my voice to be loud, clear, and deadly.

My coldness was nothing against his deranged fixation

“What do I want?” he repeated, slowly, almost as if he didn’t understand the question. “I want to finish what your daddy asked me to. He wanted you tamed. Obedient. I wanted you broken .”

Vane pressed the knife hard against Jackson’s neck. The president winced as blood welled from the pricked skin. “And I still do. You and you. ” He jerked his head at Knox. “Made a fucking joke out of me. It wasn’t personal until then. Now your whole fucking club is going to die for?—”

“Fine.”

Knox whirled. “Care, no .”

He tried to prevent me from shoving past him, but I slipped out of reach and crossed the floor faster than Knox could move.

Vane’s savage grin stretched wider. Jackson watched me with a heavy mix of emotions, like he knew something was about to snap loose.

I stopped a few feet from Vane, tucking my gun in my pocket. “Let’s negotiate, then.”

“Caroline,” Knox hissed, voice sharp with warning.

I ignored him.

Vane threw his head back, howling with laughter. “You don’t get to make demands, missy.”

“No,” I agreed lightly, “but I can make a good distraction.”

Vane’s brows knitted in confusion—and then jerked in pain when Jackson stole a knife from Vane’s belt and stabbed it into his unguarded thigh.

Vane bellowed and released Jackson, who didn’t waste a second. He spun and landed an uppercut that snapped Vane’s head back like a ragdoll.

And then Jackson went feral.

I knew Black Jack was dangerous—he’d spent a decade as a Navy SEAL. His training made him lethal, and he had spent years giving my father a run for his money with his physical strength and tactical cunning.

But I had no idea just how capable or how merciless he could be.

Vane was barely able to block the barrage of Jackson’s punches. The president wrenched the knife out of Vane’s thigh and wielded it against him. Vane might be the mercenary built like a battering ram—but this was Jackson Black going full tilt.

And with his MC, his girl, and his unborn baby on the line…

He didn’t miss.

Or let up until Vane landed a lucky punch that sent Jackson stumbling back.

Knox filled the empty space.

My stomach flipped over. “No!”

Knox and Vane went at it like two boxers. Knox wasn’t the same fighter as Jackson, but Vane had taken some real damage, so Knox held his own almost better than Jameson. Maybe it was in my honor.

But then my Knox took a brutal hit and dropped to his knees, dazed.

I didn’t think—I ran.

I launched myself at Vane with nails outstretched and vengeance flooding my veins. I slashed—claw marks raked across Vane’s face. Blood blinded his eyes, but before I could twist away, he caught my waist and lifted me off my feet. I felt him fumble for another knife.

I kicked and writhed like a ten-headed cat, twisting free just enough to fall to the floor. My gun fell out of my pocket, sliding across the cement floor.

Fuck .

Vane unsheathed a knife with a grating shing ! and slashed it at my face. I rolled and miraculously dodged being sliced.

My gun.

I grabbed it and lifted my gun to his head.

If I aimed right, he was going to get shot point blank.

There was no fear, no mercy, in his eyes—no sanity.

The Devils were shouting, Knox was trying to grab me, but I knew in my bones that this was the moment. The moment Vane got what he deserved. The moment I earned closure. The moment I saved anyone else from his monstrosity. The moment I reclaimed me .

Everything seemed to go into slo-mo. I saw Vane pull back his arm to swing, his body leaning forward. He was hindered by the thigh knife wound.

I closed one eye—not entirely a good idea—and aimed the barrel at Vane’s forehead.

Knox screamed my name.

I pulled the trigger.

The recoil sent me back as Vane’s knife sailed through the air where my face had been a millisecond ago.

His knife clattered to the concrete—and then his body.

Unmoving. Bleeding out. Dying.

Dead as a fucking doornail.