1

Lucy

I’m covered in blood and fuck knows what else. As I push my foot heavier on the gas pedal, I try not to focus on that. If I do, I’ll freak out and I don’t have time for a meltdown right now. I hit the accelerator to the floor and the car surges forwards, narrowly avoiding clipping the back of another vehicle. I’m probably breaking every speed limit in the borough, but I don’t care. My only thought is on my destination, and getting there as fast as possible.

I glance up through the windscreen, pushing my blood-spattered hair from my face, cringing at the way the gore coats my fingers. I can smell the coppery-tang of the blood, taste its sourness on my tongue and it makes me want to gag. My hands are shaking as I wipe them on the leg of my pants suit and peer in the rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of my haunted eyes, eyes that look like they’ve seen hell.

I can’t see if I’m being followed or not, which doesn’t help my anxiety. My heart is hammering in my chest, panic licking a path up my spine. I shouldn’t be driving. I can barely see through the blood in my eyes, and my fear is carving a path through my gut, but I’m running on adrenaline.

I don’t know how I’m still alive. I should be dead. I know the bullet got too close. I can feel the path it took burning like fire across my forehead. How it missed is a miracle, a one in a million chance.

I try to steady my fingers on the steering wheel, but I’m trembling so hard I can barely grip it. When the clubhouse finally comes into view, my breath feels like it catches in the back of my throat and relief floods my veins. I hit the accelerator harder as I approach the gates and duck down as I hit them. The car fights against the barrier for a moment before it breaches, the gates coming off the hinges with a screech of metal that makes my teeth hurt.

Losing my visibility for a moment beneath the twisted frame, I don’t see the post until it’s too late. I have a second to brace for impact, but it’s not enough. The car hits with a roar of noise that makes my ears ache. I’m flung forwards as the airbag deploys, my head pillowing into the material before I’m kicked back into my seat with the force of a wrecking ball. Pain explodes through my face and chest. It’s like getting punched with a titanium fist.

Then everything is quiet.

I don’t move, shock making me immobile, but when my body starts to wake up, I feel pain stabbing its way up my chest and through my skull.

I groan, smelling the acrid scent of burning and as I raise my head, I can see smoke billowing from under the hood of the vehicle. My head is throbbing, but even half-dazed, I remember my need to find safety.

I fumble for the door handle and get a couple of fingers to it. My vision is rolling and nausea climbs up my throat as I pull it. It opens with a creak and I try to get out of the car, but my legs are weak, so I tumble onto the ground, the tarmac scraping my palms.

There are figures rushing towards me. As I push my bloody hair from my eyes, I think I see the Untamed Sons insignia, but I can’t be sure. My heart is hammering in my chest as flashes of metal twinkle in the mid-afternoon sunshine and voices are yelling at me to keep down. My ears ring, and everything seems like it’s coming at me from underwater.

Through my haze, I can just about see the guns pointed in my direction. Did I leave the devil behind only to face new monsters?

I try to speak, to tell them who I am, but my words stick in my throat.

“Fuck! Lower your guns!” a voice I recognise yells.

Nox.

It’s a balm to my soul, and I cling desperately to the relief hearing a familiar voice among the angry ones brings.

“Lower your fucking guns.”

Then he’s in front of me. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision enough to see his eyes pierce mine and I see the cogs turning as he tries to work out the puzzle before him.

“Lucy?”

Tears bubble behind my eyes. I want to tell him of the danger I’m in, but all I manage to squeak out is a pitiful sounding, “Help.”

His brows draw down and his hands come to the side of my face. There’s panic growing in his eyes, and that scares me. He’s not a man to frighten easily.

“Lucy, look at me.”

I try to, but my eyes are heavy and unfocused. He’s blurry in front of me.

“What the fuck happened? Is this blood yours?” he tries. “Fuck, Whizz, get over here.”

“Get her inside first,” another voice growls out. I’m sure it’s Ravage from the gravelly, angry sound of it, but I can’t see him clearly and my ears are still ringing. My head is also a ball of agony now. “Titch, move the fucking car.”

I’m pulled up to my feet and swept up into strong arms. I cry out as I’m moved, pain flaring through my chest.

Nox mutters an apology as he carries me bridal-style into the clubhouse. I burrow my face into his chest as we walk, smelling the leather of his vest, feeling the softness of the worn material against my swollen face, seeking comfort from him. In Nox’s arms, I finally feel safe, even if that safety is only borrowed. If he knew the truth of what happened, he would never protect me.

He would never put his club at risk.

I’m placed on a hard surface—a tabletop—and then a guy with chin length, dirty blond hair steps into my space. Whizz. I vaguely remember him from the hospital. He’d visited Lily-May a few times.

He shines a light in my eyes and I push his hand away with a groan as the brightness burns the backs of my eyes.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I need to check you over.”

“He’s the club’s doctor,” Nox tells me.

It’s Nox’s reassurance that has me lowering my hand and letting him shine the light again, following his directions.

“This is a pretty nasty burn you’ve got.” Whizz probes around the wound on my forehead and I pull back at the white-hot pain his touch brings. “How’d you do it?”

I lick my lips, not sure if the truth will help here or not, but there’s suspicion in Whizz’s voice. Presumably, as the club’s doctor, he’s seen his share of gunshot injuries.

I decide the truth is the better option here. “I was shot at.”

“The fuck? Who shot at you?” Nox demands, rage lacing his words, as I hear the door open.

“Someone want to fill me in?” Ravage.

My stomach twists. I know Sasha loves this man, but honestly, he makes my blood run cold. I’ve been around men like him my whole life—men with souls so dark, so twisted and fucked up they don’t know right from wrong. I have no doubt Ravage would snuff my life out to protect his club, to protect Sasha and Lily-May, and he’d be right to. Me being here is a danger to everyone he loves—to everyone I love too.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” I mumble, trying to slide off the table even as pain lances through my body, but strong hands grab me, stopping my escape.

“You ain’t leaving,” Nox says. His words are soft, not filled with malice, but the meaning is still clear. I’m staying whether I want to or not.

“Explain,” Ravage snaps, his fuse clearly reaching its end.

The tension blossoms in the room, filling every space with a suffocating heaviness as I feel all eyes lock on my face. I push my hair out of my eyes, trying to see through the blood, but everything comes at me from behind a film of red.