by Cross, Amity
Pulling the revolver out from the waistband of my jeans, I hurtled toward the smoke and flames, driven on by the shouting and gunshots. The men who’d followed us into this mess were fighting for their lives. Good men. Ratchet, Watts, Rhodes, Spike, Butcher, Hopper, Stewie…all of them.
A bullet flew past my head, the shot so close I felt air rushing past my skin. Cursing, I ducked behind the closest car and pressed my back against the door. Chaser was beside me, looking like he was about to unleash Armageddon on anyone who came close.
“Do you see anyone?” I asked, holding the revolver at the ready.
He shook his head. “Smoke’s blowing this way.
Gasket appeared out of a plume of smoke, firing a shot at a man brandishing a shotgun at his head. The man dropped, and the biker slid behind the car we were using as cover.
“Gasket,” I said, clutching his arm. It was red with blood, but it didn’t seem to be his.
“They came out of nowhere,” the old biker said. “Someone tipped them off to our location.”
“No shit,” Chaser replied.
“They brought war on us,” I stated. “Do unto others, or so they say.”
“You don’t want that stain on your soul, girl.”
I eyed Gasket and shrugged. “Too late, old man.”
“We’re going to go around the back, and cut them off,” Gasket went on, narrowing his eyes at me. “Surround their asses and force them to surrender.”
“Then what?” Chaser asked with a scowl. “Lock them up in the basement and give them parole hearings?”
“We’ll figure that out once they stop shooting.”
“The only way this will end is by not stopping. Keep firing until the cowards run and the stupid die.”
My blood ran cold. It wasn’t just bikers here. There were women as well. I doubted that mattered to the renegades. Women died just the same as their men.
“Where are the women?” I asked. “Where’s Shondra, Kelly, and the others?”
“Hopper and Deluca got them out once the first shots were fired,” Gasket replied. “They’re out in the desert someplace. Deluca knew where he was going.”
“All the more reason to shoot first and ask questions later,” Chaser said.
A rain of bullets clipped the car we were taking cover behind, and I ducked my head. The sound was awful. Thwack, thwack, thwack.
“Who cares,” I declared. “We’ve got to move before they blow the tank on this car.”
Chaser curled his hand around my arm. “You’re with me.”
“Obviously.”
Gasket nodded. “Go. I’ll cover you.”
He leaned over the top of the car and fired. Chaser and I ran, working our way around the edge of the cabin and through the tents.
Smoke and gunfire were everywhere, disorienting my movements. If it weren’t for Chaser, I would already be lost in the chaos. Deep breaths, Sloane. I breathed in, the air tinged with the rank taste of the firefight. I stepped over a body, then another, their eyes wide open and vacant, their bodies torn by bullets.
Chaser dragged me behind the workshop, and we peered around the corner, surveying the scene.
“Stay here,” he said after a moment. “Take cover, and don’t make a sound.”
“You can’t bench me,” I complained, my entire body humming with adrenaline. “Not now.”
“This is not up for debate. If anything happened to you…” His hands grasped my face.
Chaser’s eyes were full of something I’d never seen in them before. Fear. He’d lost before, and he was afraid of losing again. First Madison and now… No.
“That’s not going to happen,” I said, prying his hands away.
Chaser let out a frustrated growl as I leaned around the corner of the workshop and scanned the yard. It was quieter around here, but I could also see the only access to the basement where Marini was being held. The cabin was on fire, the flames reaching toward the sky. The heat radiating off the building was increasing as the inferno took hold, eating its way toward the back.
There was no way of knowing if Marini was still down there or if he’d been freed before the fire was set. If he was trapped, the only way out was the window I was staring at.
“If my father tries to escape, we have to stop him.”
“If he’s still down there,” Chaser replied, voicing my thoughts. He’d seemed to have resigned himself to the fact I was going to fight no matter what. Once this was over, I was positive there was going to be a ‘discussion’ about the clear reemergence of my ‘too stupid to live’ attitude.
Leaning back around, I trained my gaze on the window, hesitating when a group of men rounded the opposite side of the cabin. There were four, and they all broke off as they searched the tents.
I saw Rocket advance with a shotgun in his hands, and my blood boiled.
“You’ve only got six shots in there,” Chaser murmured in my ear. “Don’t let them go all at once.”
“Shotguns are slow,” I retorted. “Two shots, slow reload.”
“Wrong. He’s got five with a minimum fifteen second reload speed.”
The sound of breaking glass turned my head, and smoke billowed out of the basement window. I clawed at Chaser’s arm as arms and a head emerged. Marini.
Before I could do anything, Chaser strode out from behind the workshop and raised his gun and fired. One, two, three. Bodies dropped. My heart stopped as Rocket turned, aiming the shotgun right at his chest, then he fired again. Four.
Holy shit.
Marini had wormed his way out of the window, his head turning from side to side. He saw Chaser looming through the mass of tents, saw his men lying dead on the ground, and scrambled to his feet. Then he ran.
Chaser aimed but couldn’t see to get a clear shot.
“Fuck this,” I cursed.
Pushing off the wall, I sprinted after my father as he broke out into a run and disappeared into the desert.
“Sloane!” Chaser roared, but I wasn’t listening. I only had eyes for Marini.
I sprinted through the darkness, dodging cactuses and leaping over rocks, following the sound of my father’s pounding footsteps as he ran in front of me. Behind us, the glow of the burning cabin faded, and the sounds of the firefight dulled.
Gaining on him, I could see his back as he flitted through the landscape, fleeing into the desert. He dashed to the side, doubling back toward the road and the renegades. I never missed a beat. My heart galloped in my chest, my lungs burning and my thighs aching with exertion. There was no way in hell I was letting him get away.
He twisted and leaped, throwing me off this tail for a split second. It was all it took. I skidded to a halt and held the revolver at the ready, the sound of my heart thumping in my ears and my labored breathing loud in the nothingness.
I took a step forward, listening with everything I had. He had to be lurking here someplace. Hiding behind a bush like the coward he was.
There was no love left in me for him. To be honest, I doubted there ever was. The love of an innocent child, perhaps, but not the kind he deserved. Gasket was a thousand times the man Anthony Marini was.
I took another step forward, the revolver shaking in my hands. What was I going to do when I caught him? Was I going to shoot him? Could I pull the trigger? I couldn’t even face him down in that basement.
Marini leaped out of the darkness and swung his fist at me. At the last second, I realized he was clutching a large rock and ducked to the side. His fist whooshed past my head, causing him to swing and show his back to me. I slammed my elbow into the base of his spine with a cry, and he stumbled forward.
Swinging, I raised the revolver and aimed it right at him.
“I will shoot you, so help me God.” I snarled.
Marini righted himself and turned to face me, the rock still clutched in his hand. His silver hair shone in the moonlight, his body silhouetted by the orange glow of the burning cabin.
“I’m your father,” he said.
“You wouldn’t…”
“Have you met you?” I asked, curling my lip. “I’m half of you, remember?”
“You’re half her, too.”
His words sliced through me. He was right, but he was also trying to hit me where it hurt. I couldn’t let him manipulate me. Not now.
“Shoot now, and you’ll be just like me,” he said. “You liked that gun. You said it was pretty. Do you know what I use it for?”
“Shut up.” I snarled.
“I killed Harley with it,” he went on, his lip curling. “I killed him for you.”
“Liar!” I exclaimed. “You killed him to protect yourself. You were going to hand me over to the Hollow Men. Admit it.”
“Do you think you’re better off with Chaser and Gasket?” He took a step forward. “They can’t keep you safe from King, but I can.”
“I don’t believe you.” I took a step back. “You were going to sell me off. Again.”
“I made a mistake,” he said, his expression softening. “I should never have made that deal.”
“The Venturas,” I declared. “The same men who murdered my mother.”
Marini’s expression hardened.
“Did you ever love her?” A tear slid from my eye as the revolver shook in my hands.
He stared at me and said nothing.
“Answer me!”
“Once,” he said, devoid of emotion. I drew in a shaky breath as he took another step toward me. “But she was a stupid whore just like you are now. Fucking Chaser, planning a coup with Gasket, murdering Rick. Look at what you’ve brought down on Fortitude. You’re not better than me, you are me. You are my daughter. You are a Marini, Betty, but like you said yourself. You’re half her. Half murderer, half dumb whore. You’re damaged goods, little bitch. That’s why you’ll never be able to pull that trigger.”
My breathing quickened, and rage boiled through my veins. He’d never loved me. He’d never cared. There was nothing inside him but greed, hate, and depravity.
Marini lunged…
…and I pulled the trigger.
The bullet tore through his chest, piercing his heart. He fell backward onto the ground as the gunshot echoed through the humid night air. Standing over him, I watched as a torrent of blood bloomed from his chest, staining his shirt and leaking into the grit underneath him. His gaze met mine, and he let go of his last breath, the sound passing through me like his ghost had rushed through my body on its way to Hell.
Chaser was right. That man I killed beside the road in Texas was the first of many.
Chapter 25
Chaser
“Sloane!”
I watched her sprint into the desert after Marini and sprang into action. I’d barely taken a step when a hand grasped my ankle. Looking down, I saw Rocket clawing at me, blood seeping from between his lips.
“Bastard,” he rasped. “I’ll kill you, you piece of shit.”
“Get the hell off me.” I aimed my gun, but he knocked my knee out from underneath me, and I stumbled.
The shot went wide, ricocheting off the hard ground and disappearing into the darkness.
Shit, shit, shit! I needed to go after Sloane. Who knew what was happening out there.
Rocket lunged and knocked me to the ground. We fell in a heap, the force dislodging my grasp on my gun, and it skidded across the packed dirt of the clearing. His movements were sluggish as we struggled, and it didn’t take me long to get him on his back.
He was weak, the gunshot must’ve clipped an artery. Soon the blood loss would cause him to lose consciousness, and it would all be over. This was a last-ditch attempt to get another blow in before he bit the dust.
“Coward,” Rocket exclaimed, thrashing beneath me. “You were never Fortitude.”
Curling my hands around his neck, I squeezed, my face contorting as his eyes bulged. Sweat poured down my face and back as the heat from the fire radiated across the clearing.
He deserves it, I thought to myself. He deserves what he’s getting and then some. When had I become an executioner? Seven years ago that was when. I’d made an unspoken promise to Sloane that I’d stop being that person. The man who pulled the trigger…but he would’ve killed her. He would’ve caught her, freed Marini, and nothing would’ve changed. Sloane would be in the hands of King before the sun had risen.
I tightened my grip on Rocket’s neck.
“Chaser!”
I glanced up at Gasket, who’d appeared out of the smoke, and Rocket coughed beneath me. Just kill him, a voice in the back of my mind said. Just end it already.
With a roar of frustration, I smashed my fist into his temple, and he went slack. With any luck, blood loss would get him before he woke up.
Gasket eyed him before grabbing me. “We need you around the side,” he said. “We’ve got the rest of them boxed in.”
“How many?” I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my arm.
“Hard to say, but we’ve got more.”
“Where’s Sloane?” He glanced around, his forehead creasing. “Where is she?”
I narrowed my eyes and nodded toward the desert. “Marini got out.”
“What?” He took a step toward the darkness, but it was my turn to hold him back.
“I want to go after her, too, but we’re stuck here. She knows what she’s doing.”
“Are you sure about that? It’s her father out there.”
My lip curled. “If you’re implying she’ll hesitate, I’d think again.”
He snarled before pushing me off him. “We need to end this. Now.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
I picked up my gun and followed him around the corner of the cabin, ducking behind the row of cars and joining the others.
I counted over our remaining men, knowing Hopper and Deluca were out defending the women in the desert someplace. We were down a few, but I knelt beside Spike, Watts, Stewie, Bones, Ram, and Ratchet. Behind another car were more faces I didn’t know but were on our side of the divide.
“Rhodes?” I asked.
“He was shot,” Spike said. “Butcher’s got him.”
I nodded as Gasket peered around the trunk of the car.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he called out over the expanse. “Throw down your weapons, and this can all end right now.”
A voice echoed from behind their barricade. “Eat shit!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Creative.”
“Fortitude as you knew it is over,” Gasket went on, ignoring my sarcasm. “We can’t go back now. Only forward. Marini was leading the club on a path to destruction, and you know it. Is that how you want to live your lives? Murdering for sport? That was never the Fortitude way.”
“EAT. SHIT.”
“I think they like the taste of shit,” I said, leaning against the car.
“Courage in adversity,” Spike said with a sigh.
“They’ve lost a lot of guys,” Ratchet noted. “There’s only gotta be a dozen of them left.”
“You want to shoot it out?” Ram asked. “We’re running out of bullets.”
“So are they.”
“Wait.” Spike slammed his fist against my shoulder, forcing my attention to shift from the standoff behind me to the darkness in front.
A figure emerged from the desert, and I knew it was her. Sloane shuffled across the rocky landscape, the revolver hanging in her hand. She looked like a goddamned zombie.
Thumping Gasket on the chest, I went to meet her, ducking low in case the renegades opened fire, panic flaring. It was an emotion I hadn’t felt for a very long time, and it unsettled me to my core. Was she hurt? Did Marini…
“Sloane?” I stood before her.
She stared at me, her eyes vacant.
“I killed him,” she said, shaking. “My father…”
Gasket’s head turned at her words, his face clouded with shock. “You what?”
“Marini is dead!” Ratchet roared at the remaining renegades. “Give up
now, and no one else has to die!”
“I killed him,” she muttered, the revolver slipping from her fingers and colliding with the ground with a clatter.
“There’s a problem with that,” the voice shouted. “We don’t believe you!”
Sloane glanced over her shoulder. Following her gaze, I sucked in a sharp breath as I realized what had taken her so long.
“Gasket…” I gestured toward the edge of the clearing.
The old biker whistled, and Spike went to investigate. He cursed and bent over to finish the job Sloane had started.
We all watched in silence as he dragged Marini’s body into the light of the inferno, in full view of everyone…including the men who’d come to fight for his freedom.
Sloane stared down at the carved-up remains of his chest, and I knew she’d fired at point-blank range. Marini had been executed with his own gun. The gun he used to…
Sloane let out a choked sob and went limp, her limbs crumpling beneath her. I caught her at the last second and eased her down to the ground, my heart speeding up.
The moment she fell, chaos erupted.
The renegades fired, the night a chorus of bullets. I threw myself over Sloane, shielding her from the spray, hoping to God we would get through this. I’d promised her… I’d promised her everything without saying the words. Even Sam had seen it in her grief, but feeling it wasn’t the same as saying the words aloud.
Engines roared into life, and I raised my head, the light from multiple headlights blinking across the clearing.
“They’re on the run!” someone shouted.
“We can’t let them go,” Watts said.
Gasket slid to his knees beside us and pressed his palm to Sloane’s forehead. “She’s burning up.”
“She…” I was having trouble reconciling that she’d killed her own father, and by the looks of it, so was she.
“Go,” Gasket said. “Get her out of here.”
I glanced at the retreating bikers.
“They’re not your problem,” Gasket said. “Sloane can’t stay here.”