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RAVEN

T he wind whips my hair as I run across the field.

Right until I hear the first two rounds of gunfire, when I lose all propulsion towards the building Wraith told me to run to.

I stand exposed in the middle of the field, tears stinging my eyes, as I try to convince myself that those two bullets weren’t meant for Wraith.

My heart is utterly torn. Run to the white building and survive for my boy. Or let a good man get killed when I know it’s me they’re after.

There’s a reason big decisions like this are played out in a long montage during movies. Because it’s impossible to decide quickly.

But the one thing I do know is that I need to decide now. Because standing in the middle of the paddock, fully exposed on all sides, is reckless.

I close my eyes, take a breath, and listen to my heart.

Turning on my heel, I sprint back toward the stables. There is no way I am tall enough to climb back through the window. And if the men have already shot Wraith—I suck in a harsh gasp at the thought—I’d be foolish to put myself in the same situation.

I press my back to the siding of the stable.

Use your brain, Raven.

Think.

A man’s agonized moan pierces the air, but from the intonation, I know it’s one of the Russians, not Wraith.

But there were two shots, so it doesn’t mean anything.

Although, if Wraith were dead, I feel like the men would have left to find me.

Three more shots fire, and I jump, ducking to cover my head as one breeches the stable wall.

When the sound settles, I creep to the end of the building. If the men are looking toward the office for Wraith, they won’t be looking over their shoulder for me.

The truck has been left with the giant lights on the roof still beaming brightly in the direction of the barn.

It takes me a second to acclimate my eyes to the brightness, but the more I look at the truck, the more I’m confident no one is in the driver’s seat.

Perhaps the keys have been left inside.

I debate running to it, wondering if I could fit it into the stable if I just charged at them, knocking them all over.

But I think the stable might be too narrow.

I could steal the keys and run into the barn they’ve already searched to hide in the loft. It might cause enough of a distraction and kill time until Butcher gets here.

More shots fire from inside the stable.

“Fuck you,” I hear Wraith shout. “You don’t want the girl. You want her fucking husband.”

“We have our orders, as do you.” The voice is almost robotic in nature, like it is reading from a script it hasn’t seen before.

The only thought that registers is that I still hold the gun and knife in my hand, so I peer around the doorway and see one of the men dead on the floor, another up against the stable wall, breathing heavily, with a hand pressed hard against his chest.

The two other men have split and are approaching the office from either side of the stable, weapons raised.

So, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try to steady myself.

I’ve been helpless, but I refuse to be helpless anymore.

I step far enough into the doorway such that I can raise my weapon and fire. The first shot flies past the man’s head, causing him to duck. I didn’t expect the kick back from the pistol. With another breath, I manage to get off another shot and see his body jolt before I step back out of the doorway.

“Fuck,” I hear him scream.

“Igor,” another man yells. Then footsteps.

“She’s outside,” someone shouts.

“Blue! Run!” Wraith’s throaty yell echoes through the stables, and I hear rapid gunfire exchange.

Footsteps become louder and louder, and I know they are headed for me. I run for the truck, praying to God that they won’t shoot up their own vehicle.

But the sound of bullets hitting the body of the truck proves I’m not that lucky.

I crawl by the tire, hoping it will offer some protection.

Despair weighs heavily. I’m not capable of defending myself against the men.

I’m not even certain I’ve saved Wraith.

I want to make it home to Fen so badly, I can taste it.

And then I hear it. The faint roar of motorcycles.

No police siren could have sounded any better or given me more hope.

I only have to stay alive for a few more minutes.

“Where is Marco?” the Russian shouts.

“Headed back to his house. There’s cash in the safe he wants. You don’t need me.”

The man laughs. “We still need you. Let’s say ‘collateral.’”

I try to peer around the back of the truck to see where he is, too late to notice that he’s only three feet away, with a gun trained on me.

I scramble, pushing my heels into the dirt to get away from him, but he simply laughs again. I raise the gun, but he lunges forward and kicks it from my hand.

The scream that bursts from me echoes through the night. My fingers must be broken and dislocated.

I bite my tongue in agony.

He reaches for me, grabbing the wrist of my broken hand, and drags me to the door of the truck. “I have her,” he shouts jubilantly.

“Think again, fucker,” Wraith says as he fires his weapon from the doorway of the stable, then drops to his knees.

The man holding my wrist looks at me as if confused by his fate.

His grip loosens as blood spills from his mouth before he falls, stiff like a plank of wood, to the ground.

But I have no time for him or his injuries. Wraith is sitting on his knees, weapon in his lap, head down. But before I get to him, he slumps over into the dirt.

The roar of bikes grows, and lights form around us.

My breaths become sobs as I pull Wraith’s head messily onto my lap with my only good hand. His breathing is ragged.

“Please, Wraith. No. We did it. Your club’s here.”

“Raven. How many?” Butcher shouts.

“I only saw four.” The final word cracks as I say it.

Smoke comes and stands over Wraith’s body, weapon raised as he looks around.

“Grudge,” Butcher says. “Start counting.”

Catfish puts another bullet into the skull of the man who broke my hand. And I try to bite back a sob as the man seems to jolt at the shock of it.

“Brave…girl,” Wraith whispers, and my sobs spill over into full blown tears.

“You got this, Raven,” Smoke says. “You’ve managed to keep each other alive this long. Stay strong, sweet thing.”

There are three more shots in the barn, and I jump at each one.

Wraith reaches for my hand to hold it, but the agony of the breaks comes rushing back in.

“Fuck,” Smoke says, reaching down and smacking Wraith’s hand from mine. “How did you dislocate your fingers?”

I tip my chin at the body and tears spill onto Wraith. “He kicked my hand.”

“Fucker,” Smoke says.

The rest of the club finish their searches.

“We use the truck to get them both to the hospital,” Butcher says. “Call three prospects; one of them can drive and pick up the others. They come get my bike and Wraith’s. Tell ‘em if they get any more beaten up, I’ll bring the prospects back out here and shoot their balls off.”

Smoke shakes his head. “Let me drop them off.”

“I’m president of this club. This is one of my men. I’m also fucking older than you. I end up doing time for any of this because someone tugs on the leads, it’s better me than you.”

Smoke slaps Butcher’s shoulder. “Good talk. But I’m still gonna follow you in.”

“Just organize the fucking logistics of us all getting to the hospital and rides and shit. Pull in some hangarounds if you need to.”

Atom looks down at Wraith. “Where are you shot?”

He lifts his palm from his abdomen, near his appendix.

If I could cry any harder, I would. “I’m so sorry,” I manage to say.

But Wraith gives me a weak smile through his own pain. “I’m…not. We lived.”

It takes us half an hour to get to a hospital, but despite the wait I was expecting, the leather these men wear opens doors fast.

They take one look at Wraith and try to rush him away from me.

“Wait,” I say, hurrying up alongside the stretcher they place him on. I touch his cheek gently. “I love you.”

Wraith gingerly lifts his arm so his knuckle brushes my cheek for a second before dropping back to the stretcher. “Love you.”

His eyes roll back in his head, and then he’s whisked down the corridor.

“No. Wait,” I yell while I try to run after him. “Is he alive?”

Strong arms wrap around my middle. “Let them take him,” Atom says gruffly as I try to kick against the hold.

“We need to get you seen,” the emergency room doctor then says to me.

“No. I need to know he’s okay. What just happened to him? I need to be here when they’re done. I need to be there when he wakes up. When he?—”

“Raven,” Smoke says, stepping in front of me. “He’s in the best hands. And he’s going to be in surgery for a good long while.” Gently, he strokes the skin on the back of my broken hand. “Let them fix you while he’s in there.”

I look at Smoke and can see there are unspilled tears lining his eyes too. “I can’t. I...”

“I know, sweetheart. You want to look after him. And you did such a good job today. But the best thing you can do is let them put you under. Rest, while they fix your hand, then be awake before he’s out.”

“Please,” Atom says, releasing his hold.

“Okay.” I turn to face Butcher. “Is Fen okay with Ember?”

Butcher steps forward and cups my cheeks. “I’ll say what you’re really scared of. Both you and Wraith in surgery at the same time. The club’s got all of you. No matter what.”

“And I’ll take care of Fen,” Smoke says. “You have my word.”

I wish I’d had time to see my baby, but I turn to the doctor. “Okay.”

When I finally wake, my first thought is that there is petroleum jelly in my eyes. The world looks blurry, and there’s a halo around the light fitting.

“Wraith,” I say.

“Hey, Raven. It’s me, Smoke. You’re good, sweetheart.”

I try to lift my hand, but it doesn’t feel like it’s there. Panicked, I try to lift my head, but can’t. “My hand.”

“All fixed. It’s gonna be pinned in place for a couple of months.”

“Where’s Axel?”

Smoke moves my hair off my face. “He’s been out of surgery about an hour. About an hour behind you in terms of recovery time. But they’re gonna bring him here when it’s safe enough.”

I look up and down the small room with four beds and see there is space.

“Thank you. For coming to get us,” I say.

“You feel up to telling us what happened?” Smoke asks.

I sigh. “Not yet.”

He smiles. “Okay. You rest. I’ll go tell the others you’re okay. Everyone is worried.”

I try to focus on the clock on the wall but find I can’t as I slide back under knowing Wraith is safe.

When I wake again, the room is full. Iron Outlaws line the walls. But I turn my head, and in the bed next to me is Axel. I reach my good hand for him, but he’s too far away.

“Tell me you’re okay?”

“How could I not be?” he asks gruffly. “I’m looking at my future wife.”