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“Strawberry, get Doc!” I heard Popcorn yell ahead of us.
We squeezed past the rubble and into the clubhouse. The bar was bustling with the makings of war. Benji and Addy fell in behind us while Popcorn and Cook barked orders at anyone in sight. Even Narcissa offered me a grim nod as she passed out weapons, the look in her eyes seethed with the promise to rend flesh from bone.
Outside, I could hear the battle raging. The throaty purr of enemy bikes charging into Soul Reaper territory. No, fuck that. Our territory. The Soul Reapers and Sasha’s pack were one and the same as we defended our people. Wave after wave, they came followed by the rapid tattoo of shots exchanged. The snarls. The tearing of flesh. The screech and burn of metal and rubber kissing gravel and parked obstacles. The obscene gurgles of death.
Inside, windows and doors were swiftly barricaded. Some of the humans gathered together, once more reduced to a terrified huddle as Viola ushered them gently to safety, calling over a couple of prospects to stand between them and danger. A few of the Soul Reapers were using furniture to patch up the gaping hole in our clubhouse wall made by our hasty retreat.
Our pack moved seamlessly, humans and wolves alike, to secure our territory as best we could. Time was of the essence. This attack was more carefully planned than I would have expected of an MC whose leadership had been decimated only days before.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me being shot hurts like a bitch?” Sasha groaned.
I winced at how thready her voice sounded. “Hold on, love. Doc’s on his way.”
My entire focus was riveted to the woman in my arms as she gripped my shirt and refused to look away from my face.
“Where do you need me?” Doc’s voice was calm as he appeared from the hallway, emergency kit in hand.
“Over here,” I growled in relief. “Sasha’s been hit.”
I carefully laid her out on a table in a booth along the edge of the room. Not much cover but it would have to do, Doc needed room to stitch her up.
A trickle of pain leaked through from Sasha’s side of the bond—despite her best efforts to shield—and was swiftly answered by a fresh surge of fury from Mongrel. Faced with her chalk-white complexion and the blood that wouldn’t stop pumping, I felt like a piece of flotsam being shoved around back and forth between them as I used my shirt to help stem the tide.
Doc cursed as he joined me and got straight to work, disinfecting his hands. “Bullet inside or out?”
“Out, I think.”
“Good,” his voice was clipped but gentle as he worked. “Sasha, this is gonna hurt a bit, okay? I need to take a peek to make sure then we’ll get to work on this bleeding.”
More blood. Fuck. I kept my mind as clear as I could and focused on following Doc’s crisp instructions as he confirmed that the bullet had indeed passed through her body. Then he began packing the wound. Sasha gripped my hand like a vice but didn’t utter a word of complaint as I sent all my love and admiration down through the bond while the medic worked.
White as a ghost, Winter was standing right next to our booth, staring at the three of us with vacant eyes. Her body swayed like a leaf on the wind.
“They’re coming for us. They’re coming,” she mumbled over and over, hands squeezing her middle like she was trying to keep herself from tearing apart. “Won’t stop ‘til we’re dead.”
“Then we’d better make sure they get dead first, yeah?” Viola snapped when she caught an earful of what the poor girl was saying and cuffed Winter upside the head. “Now get under that table and hide, girl. You’re no good to anyone spouting nonsense.”
The look Winter shot Viola was terrifying but Sasha’s 2IC remained completely unruffled. In fact, the grin she sent Winter was deadly. “Thatta girl. Keep hold of the fire, yeah? They don’t get to snuff out the woman I’ve seen clawing her way back this week.”
Tight-lipped, Winter nodded then scampered off to crawl under a nearby booth as Viola turned away to address the room. “That goes for the rest of you, right? Give those fuckers hell. No matter what. Feel me?”
“Right,” Cook nodded in agreement and gave Viola a fist-bump. “Now, everyone not guarding an entrance, get up against the walls in pairs or threes and guard each other’s backs.” Cook stalked toward the kitchen. “Jubilee, with me. We’ve got the back door. My little knives are hoping to meet a few of those rat bastards.”
The sweetbutt trotted obediently at her heels as they disappeared through the swinging doors. Just as I was turning back to work with Doc, a crash sounded from the kitchen. Something metal hitting organic matter with force.
“Lil’ bi—” Cook’s muffled groan snuck out from underneath the still swinging doors as a body slumped heavily to the ground.
My wolf’s hackles stood to attention at the distinctive snick of a bolt being slid open followed by a masculine snarl. “What took you so long, bitch?”
The crack of a fist hitting a flesh cut off any reply, chased by a shocked feminine whimper.
Then silence.
Moments later, the sweetbutt came shuffling back into the bar, shoulders slumped in defeat. A fresh claiming mark pumped sluggishly down her neck. Blood soaked her top. Strolling right behind Jubilee, and gripping his mate by the back of her still bleeding neck, was Crusher. His face split in a garish grin while his freshly claimed mate’s blood dripped from his chin.
A trio of bikers flanked the new Vice President of the Bone Crushers, weapons at the ready. Crusher’s eyes fell on Sasha as I slowly edged my way in front of the booth. Doc continued working on his patient, pretty much ignoring the interruption.
“Looks like you got started without us, omega? Piss weak effort, I must say. I thought the Soul Reapers would be better hosts and put on a real shindig. No matter. Nothing like a bit of death and carnage to brighten up a party.”
