20. Laina
20
LAINA
T he engine roars beneath us, the vibrations sinking into my bones as Ash speeds down the dark highway. The night air whips against my skin, cool and sharp, but it does nothing to stop the pulsing anxiety coursing through me.
I grip his waist tighter and my fingers dig into the leather of his jacket as the bike eats up the distance between us and the old factory.
The plan is simple.
Use me as bait to draw Reynolds out.
Once he’s in the open, take him down.
It’s a terrifying prospect, but I try to remind myself that we were close to ending this nightmare for good. I could stop being haunted. I could finally get my life back.
I press into Ash’s back, steadying myself as we race down the road.
He hasn’t said much since we left.
But I can feel he’s on edge from the way his shoulders stay tense, and the way he’s gripping the handlebars a little too tight.
And I know it’s not just because of Reynolds.
It’s me.
Even though the plan was his idea, he still hated it. They all do. They hate that I’m the one walking straight into the fire.
But after everything we’ve been through, he knows better than to try and stop me. Reynolds ends with me.
I take a deep breath to steady the rush of nerves and adrenaline in my blood.
We take the last turn, gravel crunching beneath the tires, and see the old warehouse looming ahead, dark and waiting like it’s been expecting us.
Ash slows the bike and pulls to a stop just outside the perimeter.
The second the engine cuts off, the silence presses in.
I exhale slowly.
The warehouse is hulking and silent, rust streaking down its sides like old blood. The windows gape open like broken teeth in a jagged grin.
We’re not alone.
I can see shadows shifting along the perimeter, bodies stationed in the darkness, barely visible but there.
Reynolds isn’t working alone.
I shouldn’t be calm.
I should be shaking and panicking. My body should be rejecting every step that brings me closer to the one man who’s haunted me for so long. But I try to stay calm and cling to Ash to let his strength ground me.
My hands are steady as I adjust the blade beneath my jacket, the one Dagger had given me. I feel its weight, cool and solid against my ribs.
This ends tonight. I tell myself again.
Ash swings off the bike first, his boots crunching against the gravel. He’s all sharp edges and coiled tension as he scans the warehouse trying to calculate every possible outcome.
Then he turns to me.
For a moment, I see something flicker in his eyes. Something steady. Something that says I’ve got you. He holds his hand out to me and I take it, sliding my palm against his.
“You’re getting better at riding bikes,” he murmurs.
“I’ve had some practice.”
“You good?”
“Never been better,” I say firmly as I swing my leg over and off the bike. The ground feels too firm beneath me like the earth itself is bracing for what’s coming next.
“You don’t think he’ll find it suspicious that Laina just showed up?” Liam asks from behind us.
“Oh, he will,” Ash says locking his gaze onto mine. “I think he wants you too badly to care.”
A chill snakes down my spine, because he’s right.
Reynolds has been waiting for this.
For me.
I take a breath, shove the fear down, and square my shoulders.
I turn to Ash one last time because once I step inside, everything changes.
He doesn’t hesitate. His hand catches my jaw, his fingers warm and strong. And then, his mouth crashes against mine.
It’s not sweet or careful. It’s raw and hard, full of something fierce and desperate like he’s leaving a mark and telling me without words to come back to him. My hands fist in his jacket. My heart hammers as the heat of his lips moves against mine and the taste of him lingers on my tongue. And then it’s over.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His thumb brushes against my jaw and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he says gruffly.
I swallow hard. “Too late for that.”
His lips twitch and the moment is already gone.
My heart racing in fear and anticipation, I make my way toward the warehouse and walk inside.
The air inside is thick and humid, smelling of oil and rot. My boots scrape against the cracked concrete floor as I step forward, the sound too loud in the vast, open space. Shadows cling to the rafters, stretching long and sharp under the dim, flickering overhead light.
And then I see him.
Reynolds.
He’s standing near a rusty workbench with a few men gathered around him. I recognize some of them, Dead Demons, and Hellfire Riders. Traitors who turned on their clubs for whatever promises Reynolds had made.
His head tilts slightly as he takes me in, his lips curling into a sneer of amusement.
“Well,” he murmurs slowly. “Look who finally came to her senses.”
My stomach knots as nausea curls hot and fast in my gut.
The sound of his voice low, smooth, and familiar, sends chills down my spine.
I freeze just for a second. My body wants to shut down and I fight the urge to flee as my mind trips over itself, caught in memories, and nightmares.
His hands on me. His voice in my ear. The helplessness. The fear. It all comes rushing back.
No !
I’m not her anymore.
I remind myself why I’m here, and I remember that I’m not alone this time. I tighten my grip on the knife beneath my jacket.
Reynolds takes a step toward me.
My heartbeat spikes, but I don’t move.
“You always were stubborn,” he says, his eyes gleaming brightly under the sickly yellow light. “But I knew you’d come back. Sooner or later.”
How delusional is this man?
He moves closer in slow, measured steps.
He’s almost a foot away from me, drawing closer still like a dog sniffing at a bone. I can almost see the drool on his lips.
“You belong to me, Laina.”
Something inside me snaps and the moment he gets close enough, I strike.
The knife Dagger gave me flashes in the dim light, slicing across his side before he can react. Blood blooms, dark and wet, staining his shirt.
Reynolds stumbles back with a sharp grunt, his face twisting in something between shock and rage.
Then, the warehouse erupts in chaos. Doors slam open and gunfire cracks through the air.
Ash, Hawk, Liam, Dagger, Tank, Vance, and Ryder, all storm inside to deal with the men who betrayed them. The next few seconds are a blur of shouts, flying fists, and colliding bodies.
I barely register the chaos around me before Reynolds’ snarl yanks my attention back.
“You bitch,” he spits, clutching his side before lunging toward me.
Pain explodes across my ribs as he slams into me, sending me crashing against a stack of old crates. My breath whooshes out and white-hot pain lances through my side.
I barely have time to recover before I hear it.
A growl.
Dark. Lethal.
Ash.
His body collides with Reynolds, taking him down.
They hit the ground hard, fists already flying.
I try to move but the pain burns through my ribs. I press a hand to my side, my fingers are slick with blood.
Ash is fire. Raw and relentless, burning through every hit, every wound, every drop of blood he spills.
He dodges a swing and counters with a sharp hook to Reynolds’ ribs. But Reynolds is fast, mean, and fights like a man who wins by cheating. He shifts, feints left, then suddenly pulls a rusted pipe from the ground, swinging it with a force that comes out of nowhere.
The crack of metal against bone is sickening.
Ash stumbles back, cursing, his body folding slightly as he grabs his side.
That’s when Reynolds takes his shot.
He’s on Ash in an instant, his knee driving into his ribs as another hard blow knocks him to the ground.
For a split second, I can’t breathe.
I see it—the way Reynolds stands over Ash, the way his eyes gleam with the promise of a kill.
Ash struggles to push him away but Reynolds is faster. He lifts the pipe again, aiming straight for Ash’s skull, and?—
Hawk launches himself forward, tackling Reynolds mid-swing. The pipe clatters to the floor, the sound ringing out as Hawk slams Reynolds against the metal scaffolding, pinning him to it.
The metal scaffolding behind him groans, rattling against the concrete as Hawk keeps his forearm pressed against Reynolds’ throat.
“You’re done,” Hawk grits out in a steely voice. “You hear me, you sick fuck?”
Reynolds wheezes but manages a cruel, twisted grin. Then, in one sharp, practiced movement, his arm shifts and that’s when I see it.
A pistol.
My stomach lurches as he lifts it, the muzzle glinting under the warehouse’s dim light, his target clear. Hawk doesn’t even have time to react before Reynolds cocks the hammer, his smirk widening with the promise of blood.
I open my mouth to scream, but Ash is already moving.
The gun goes off. The explosion rings in my ears, but instead of Hawk dropping, it’s Ash who takes the hit.
He crashes into Hawk, the force of his tackle sending both of them stumbling hard onto the concrete, a strangled grunt tearing from his throat.
Chaos erupts around me, bodies surge forward, and I can’t see anything beyond Ash, the way he’s clutching his leg, blood pooling beneath his fingers, dark and thick.
Reynolds takes the opportunity and bolts, disappearing through the loading bay doors before anyone can grab him. Ryder is on his feet in seconds, cursing as he runs after him, but the sound of heavy boots slamming against the pavement fades too quickly. The bastard is gone.
I barely register it.
I’m already dropping to my knees next to Ash, my hands hovering over the wound, panic clawing at my throat as he presses down hard. His jaw clenched, his body rigid with pain.
“Damn it, Ash,” I choke out, my hands moving to help, but he bats them away.
“I’m fine,” he grits out, his grip tightening on my wrist as if he can will me to believe it. His face is pale and his breathing ragged, but he still manages to shoot Hawk a look. “Don’t flatter yourself. Someone needs to go after that bastard, right now!”
Hawk, still sprawled on the ground, drags a hand over his face before pushing himself up. He looks down at Ash, then at the blood seeping into the floor, his jaw ticking with something unreadable.
“You just took a bullet for me.”
Ash glares at him. “Yeah, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
Hawk exhales sharply, muttering a curse under his breath. He doesn’t say thank you, and Ash sure as hell doesn’t expect it, but I can tell that something has shifted between them. It doesn’t matter now, though.
Not when Reynolds is still out there.
Not when Ash is bleeding all over the damn floor, and I’m pressing my hands over the wound, trying to keep myself from unraveling.
Tank shouts for someone to get a med kit.
Dagger and Liam are securing the defectors. Rounding them up like cattle, while Vance watches the door, his jaw set in frustration at another fight gone sideways.
Ash exhales, his fingers tightening briefly around mine before his grip slackens.
Liam glares down at one of them, his knuckles still bloody. “Hope it was worth it.”
The guy spits blood onto the ground but doesn’t say a damn word.
Dagger rolls his shoulder and cracks his neck. “What do we do with them?”
Hawk looks at Ash.
Ash’s chest is rising too fast, blood is dripping from his temple, and his body is rigid and wrong.
But his voice?
Steel.
“Lock them up.” He spits blood onto the ground. “We’ll deal with them later.”
I struggle to my feet, wincing at the pain flaring in my ribs. Liam is at my side in an instant, steadying me with a hand on my elbow.
"Easy, Laina," he murmurs, eyes scanning me for injuries. "You need to take it easy. You’re hurt.”
I shake my head and pull away from him. "I'm fine. We have to go after Reynolds."
"We will," Dagger says grimly, joining us. "But Liam's right, you need to take it easy.”
My frustration boils over. "I said I'm fine! He's getting away while we stand here arguing! And Ash is hurt!"
“This is nothing,” Ash grunts, attempting to stand.
Ryder sighs. "Vance and Tank are already on it. They'll track him down." He eyes me critically. "You're not going to be much help if you collapse from blood loss or a punctured lung."
I glare at him but I know he's right. The adrenaline is fading and I can feel myself starting to crash.
"Come on," Liam urges me gently, guiding me toward the door. "Let's get you patched up. Then we'll regroup and figure out our next move."
I let Liam lead me out of the warehouse, my thoughts whirling. We were so close to ending this nightmare, but Reynolds had managed to slip through our fingers. Would this nightmare ever be over?
The bitter taste of failure mingles with the coppery tang of blood in my mouth. My body aches and every breath I take sends a sharp stab of pain through my ribs. But that's nothing compared to the frustration and anger boiling inside me.
Outside, the night air is cool against my flushed skin. Liam guides me over to where the bikes are parked. Hawk is standing nearby, a grim expression on his face as he talks in low, urgent tones on his phone.
Ash's eyes rake over me as Dagger leads him out. For a moment, something flickers in their dark depths; concern, regret, and a storm of other emotions he quickly buries.
“Cops are on their way,” Hawk says, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Want me to call an ambulance, Ash?”
"I'm fine. You and the others secure the defectors, then meet us back at the clubhouse."
Liam hesitates, clearly reluctant to let me out of his sight. But after a tense beat, he nods. "Watch her back," he says to Ash, a note of warning in his tone.
Ash pulls me against him, burying his nose into my hair, and pressing me hard into him.
“I’m so sorry, Laina. I had him. I should’ve?—“
I shake my head, cutting off Ash's apology as I lean into his embrace. "Don't. This isn't on you." My voice is muffled against his chest. "We'll get him. He can't run forever."
Ash's arms tighten around me and he rests his chin on top of my head. For a moment, we just breathe each other in, taking strength and comfort from the closeness.
Then Ash pulls back slightly and he cups my face. He brushes his thumbs over my cheekbones, his gaze intense as it sweeps over my features. "Let's get you fixed up."
“You’re the one who was shot in the leg,” I point out.
“Dagger’s got me patched up. He’ll finish the job back at home.”
Home. I repeat the word. Are they my home now? Because I could no longer imagine a life without any of them.