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Chapter Twenty-Two
A cacophonyof gunfire fills the air in the moments after the explosion. Dust from the ceiling rains down on me, but my focus is locked on the battle I can hear outside. A battle that sounds like it’s for their lives. My heart gallops in my chest as I hope and pray my family, and Dane’s family, will come through this in one piece.
A large boom has my stomach twisting again. Are they bombing the compound? Fear rises in my throat as I try to loosen the ropes around my wrists and ankles, needing freedom, needing the safety the so-called cavalry can provide. I feel sick, nausea sitting just on the edge of my consciousness as I tug at my bindings. All I succeed in doing is rubbing my skin rawer.
I see the handle on the door jiggle and cold swamps me. Someone is trying to get in. Is it friend or foe, that’s the question? It could be Dylan coming back to finish what he started, or it could be Dane, riding in like the proverbial white knight.
It’s neither. The man who steps inside the room is Slade.
My heart leaps. Oh, thank god. I wanted Dane, but Slade isn’t a bad substitute. Relief floods me, relief that I’m finally safe, that this nightmare is over.
He peers at me, as if trying to see me beneath the mess of contusions and cuts littering my face, and then straightens.
I mouth, “Thank you,” at him, but he doesn’t come towards me. He hesitates in the doorway before he shuts it behind him.
All my senses go on alert as he takes a wary step towards me, as if I’m a dangerous animal.
“Where is he?”
Dylan. He’s asking where Dylan is.
Without my hands to sign, all I can do is shift my shoulders. Slade moves slowly to the chair, tucking his gun in his waistband and my senses tingle.
Is something wrong?
“This should never have happened to you, kid,” he mutters as he takes me in. “Things have changed over the years, and not in a good way. Derek wants us out of the drug running, he wants to become civilians. I don’t want that. We’re unprotected when we’re weak. This is a prime example of that.”
He pulls a knife from his boot, and I find my breath catching in my throat as I stare at the metal blade.
“That daft twat has it in his head that’s the direction we should go in. The man isn’t fit to rule.”
His words wash over me like cold water.
What is he talking about?
Does he mean to usurp Derek?
Is he crazy?
Clearly, he must be because no one in their right mind would seek to dethrone their own president, to deal harm on their Club.
He cuts the ropes and I sag forward, unable to stop my boneless body sliding into his arms.
“Easy, darlin’.”
He barely has the ropes free of my ankles when the door opens behind him. He spins at the same time my head lifts, and my heart stops. It’s Dylan.
Slade gently pushes me back onto the chair so I don’t fall out of it and then stands, tugging his gun free from his back. It’s pointed right at Dylan, whose own gun is dangling loosely in his hand at his side.
“How’s it feel to be the hero in this scenario, Slade?”
“You backstabbing shit. I fucking vouched for you.”
“It did make things easier with your help.” He ponders this. “I doubt I could have done this as fast without it.”
“Why? Why’d you do it? The Club didn’t do shit to you.”
“You treated me as less. I was seen as a nobody. Your boys were obnoxious and frankly I was tired of it.”
