Page 9 of Savage Saint

The first shot tears through the wall, sending debris toward those closest to the door. Then another—multiple rounds pierce through—and every brother moves.

“Down!” I yell out, aiming my gun toward the first hole. Every shot has been just to the left of the metal door, and I unload the first Glock before dropping it and pulling out my second from the holster. A few brothers join me while the De Leons stand beside me, both shooting at the section of wall past the original holes.

Casing after casing drops to the ground with muted pings, the music downstairs muffling the noise while plaster and dust fill the room. What should be chaos becomes controlled violence.

A thump against the door makes me pause, and I hold up a hand, the room immediately going still.

Rizos moves to one of the holes and looks through it. “Body on the ground. Looks like a male.”

“Check.” He does, opening the door, and the figure slumps with a puddle of blood growing beneath him. It’s not someone I know. Looks like a foreigner. “Dead?” With two fingers, Rizos checks his pulse and runs the same fingers across his neck. Muerto.

That’s when my eyes sweep the room, looking for injuries.

Thiago, Ivan, and those around them are fine. Only two have a small graze on the arm.

Then I see Ismael and Henry. The blind one has gone into shock but is breathing, while his handless friend is dead. Mouth open wide in a scream, with a bullet in the neck.

“Santos.” At my name, I turn and find Kaos leaning against the wall, a hand pressed against his side. Blood seeps between his fingers. Too much blood.

“Fucking hell, Trino. Where?”

“I’m good,” my little brother grunts, but that only pisses me off.

“Bullshit. How bad?”

“I think it went through my shoulder, but my side burns. Just let me sit…” he takes a step and crumbles. I catch him before he hits the floor, lowering him as his life’s essence coats my hands. Hot. Thick.

It doesn’t stop. From shoulder to hip, there’s so much red.

“Get me a clean towel,” I bark, pressing harder against his side, causing the idiot to curse at me. Good. He can bitch all he wants as long as he stays awake.

“We need a hospital, Saint. Doc is out of town for his cousin’s wedding⁠—”

“No. We can’t, Santos.”

“Trino. Quiet.” I get what he means. A hospital means questions, but I won’t let my brother die on me. Looking down at him, I take in his pale face, and there is no other choice. “Rizos, get Trino back to the compound, use the transport van, while everyone else gets this place cleaned and those two moved. Thiago, can I borrow your SUV⁠—”

He tosses his keys at me. No question asked. “Do what you need to. We’ll help here.”

“Thank you. I’ll meet you back at the compound.”

The clubhouse is closer than the hospital, and we have an on-site medical room. Doc keeps it stocked, and Rizos, like most brothers, knows how to treat wounds. The basics, but it’s enough until I get back.

Every minute Kaos is bleeding matters.

Then I leave. Don’t look back as I exit the club, get in Thiago’s rental, and head toward the emergency room because somebody in that hospital will be making a house call tonight.

By force.

Because of fear.

There is no other choice.

3

GENESIS

When I walked into the emergency department, I expected the usual Saturday-night chaos.