Page 215 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

My legs burn as I push harder, closing the distance to Nico. His hand catches mine, strong and sure, and he hauls me onto the back of his bike. The familiar leather of his cut is like armor against my chest as I wrap my arms around him.

“Hold on tight,” he growls, and I can hear the mix of fury and relief in his voice. The fury is for Ambrose, but the relief—that’s all for me.

I press myself against his back, my heart thundering in time with the bike’s engine. We’re not safe yet, but with my men around me, I feel the first spark of hope since this whole shit show started.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Nico guns the engine and we peel out, the bike’s tires throwing gravel as we accelerate. Atlas and Killian flank us, their bikes moving in perfect sync like they’ve done this a thousand times before.

I grip Nico tighter as he takes a sharp turn, the bike leaning so far I can almost touch the ground. Behind us, car engines roar to life as Ambrose and his men start to give chase.

“They’re following!” I shout over the wind, pressing my mouth close to Nico’s ear. His response is to twist the throttle harder, the engine screaming as we pick up speed.

The cool night air whips at my face, carrying the scent of the river. We’re riding parallel to it now, using the maze of warehouses and docks to our advantage. The bigger vehicles will have a harder time following us through here.

A bullet whizzes past, close enough that I feel the displacement of air. Killian drops back, putting his bike between us and the gunfire. My heart clenches. I can’t lose any of them. Not after everything we’ve been through.

“Stay low!” Atlas calls out from my left. He’s scanning the road ahead, probably looking for escape routes. That’s what he does—always watching, always protecting.

I press myself tighter against Nico’s back, feeling the tension in his muscles. He’s furious. I can tell by the way he’s holding himself, by the aggressive way he takes each turn. Furious at Ambrose, at the situation, probably at me for putting myself in danger.

But there’s no time to think about that now. More gunshots ring out behind us, and I know we’re not out of this yet. Not by a long shot.

All we can do is ride, and pray we’re fast enough to outrun the storm of bullets following us.

The bike vibrates between my thighs as Nico pushes it to its limits, weaving through the industrial maze along the river.

Behind us, engines roar and tires squeal as Ambrose’s men try to keep up in their cars.

The sound reverberates off brick walls and empty buildings, making it impossible to tell how close they are.

I twist around, keeping one arm locked around Nico’s waist as I raise my gun.

The lead car’s headlights are shining on us, making us perfect fucking targets.

I squeeze off two shots, and the windshield spiderwebs but doesn’t shatter.

Bulletproof glass. Of course these professional mercenary assholes would have bulletproof fucking glass.

“Hang on!” Nico shouts, and the bike lurches as we take a hard right turn. My stomach drops as we thread between two buildings, the gap barely wide enough for the bike. Atlas follows, but Killian has to find another route—the space is too tight for him.

More gunfire erupts behind us. I hear the distinctive pop of automatic weapons now. These bastards aren’t playing around anymore.

“We need to split up!” Atlas calls out. “Draw their fire in different directions!”

My heart seizes. No. We can’t separate. But before I can protest, Nico shakes his head. “Stay together!” he shouts. “We’re stronger together!”

I squeeze off another shot at the cars behind us, but the angle is bad and I waste the bullet. Fuck. We’re running out of options, and I’m running out of ammo.

The river appears on our right again as we emerge from the buildings and join up with Killian once more. Moonlight glints off the dark water, and I catch glimpses of our reflections as we race along the waterfront. Four shadows on bikes, being chased by demons in cars.

A fresh burst of gunfire whizzes past. Something hot grazes my arm—a bullet passing close enough to burn. I hear Killian curse, followed by the horrible sound of rubber tearing apart.

Oh fuck. No.

“Killian!” I scream as his bike fishtails violently, the blown tire sending him into an uncontrollable skid. Time seems to slow as I watch his bike go down, metal skidding against pavement in a shower of sparks.

Killian tucks and rolls as he’s thrown, but he’s moving too fast. His body hits the ground hard and keeps going, tumbling across the concrete like a rag doll. The sight of him lying motionless makes my blood run cold.

“Go back!” I try to wrench the bike around, but Nico’s grip on the handlebars is iron-tight. More bullets zip past us as Ambrose’s men close in.

“We can’t!” Atlas shouts, but I can hear the agony in his voice. He doesn’t want to leave Killian any more than I do.

I struggle against Nico’s control of the bike. “We have to go back! We can’t leave him!” The words tear from my throat, raw and desperate. All I can see is Killian lying there, vulnerable, at Ambrose’s mercy. Just like Atlas was.

But Nico’s voice cuts through my panic, hard as steel. “He’s dead if we all go down! We need to draw them away from him!”

He’s right. God fucking damn it, he’s right. If we go back now, we’ll all be slaughtered. Killian’s only chance is if we can pull Ambrose’s men away from him.

I press my face into Nico’s leather cut, tears burning my eyes as we speed away. The image of Killian’s body hitting the ground plays on repeat in my head. One of my psychopaths. One of my loves. Left behind.

Please, I think, my heart threatening to shatter. Please let him be alive.