Page 67 of Bolt's Flame

She was face down on the bed, naked, bound, her face bruised, blood staining the corner of her mouth. But she was alive. That was all that mattered.

“Fiona,” I breathed, rushing to her side.

She flinched at first, her body jerking away from me like she didn’t recognize who I was. Her eyes were wild, filled with terror, and it shattered something inside me to see her like that.

“Fiona, it’s me,” I said, my voice low and urgent as I cut the ties around her wrists. “It’s Bolt. I’m getting you out of here.”

Her gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, I saw all kinds of emotions flickering in her eyes—recognition, hope, relief, and love, but it was quickly swallowed by fear.

“Fiona, baby, we’re gettin’ you out of here,” Horse said softly and then looked at me and whispered, “Take care of her while I find and deliver Satan’s next soul.” But before he could walk off, Fiona spoke.

“He’s here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “James... he’s still here... he ran when he heard... he killed Boots.”

My eyes caught on something lying beside her, a fucking horse whip. The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted inside me like a fire. My back stiffened, my eyes scanning the room, searching for him.

“Where is he?” Horse growled, his grip tightening on the gun in his hand, ready for the kill.

I didn’t need a gun because I was going to tear him apart with my bare hands, ready to end this once and for all, but I still held Fiona. Devil’s voice cut through the fog of rage.

“Focus, Bolt. Get her out of here. We’ll deal with James.”

“Yeah, get my baby girl out of here now,” Horse growled, not coming near Fiona because he would scare the shit out of her right now. He was unleashed, and that made Horse an entirely different person.

I hesitated, every instinct screaming at me to find him, to make him pay. But one look at Fiona, her broken, terrified face, and I knew what I had to do.

I lifted her into my arms, holding her close as I turned back toward the door. “You’re safe now,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.”

THE SECOND Ihad Fiona in my arms and startedoutside, hearing her whimpers of pain. I wanted to torture him, and I knew I had to be the man that killed him.

The fuck who had haunted her life, and who thought he could take her from me, from the club, and get away with it. I had her now, her body trembling against mine, but this wasn’t over. Not until that bastard was lying broken at my feet.

“I love you, Fiona and I’ll be right back, I promise,” I whispered to her before I handed her off to Thunder, who nodded, understanding that she needed to be kept safe.

“Take her to the van and take care of her, because I need to handle some shit,” I muttered to Thunder, my eyes already scanning the area for any sign of James. I had to make him suffer, feel it with my own hands, see it with my own eyes. It was the only way I would have any peace.

Thunder hesitated for a moment, then gave a sharp nod. He knew better than to stop me because nothing short of death could. Devil came up, standing beside me, his gaze hard as stone,his gun drawn. He caught my eye, a silent understanding passing between us. This was the moment we’d been waiting for—the moment to end this for good. He knew I needed this for my sanity.

“Where is he?” I growled, my voice low and dangerous.

Devil gestured toward the far end of the old building, where a series of rusted-out metal doors lined the wall. “We think he’s hiding somewhere in there.”

I was going to kill him, feel his life fade away under my hands, and my fists clenched so tight with that need that my knuckles were white. James had nowhere to run and there was no way in hell I was letting him walk out of here alive.

We moved silently toward the doors, Devil and Horse on my left, Chain on my right. The rest of the club was fanning out, covering every exit, ready to close the net around him. This was the way we handled business—calculated, ruthless, efficient.

As we reached the final door, I heard it. The scuffle of movement inside. He knew we were coming.

Good. I would eat on his fear just like he did Fiona’s.

Devil gave me a look, nodding toward the door. I stepped forward, slamming it open with a hard kick. The door flew back, crashing against the wall, and there he was.

James stood in the back of the room, his back to the wall, a wild, desperate look in his eyes. He was holding a gun, his hands shaking, his breathing ragged. The sight of him, that pathetic piece of shit, only made the anger burn hotter in my chest.

“Not so fucking tough when facing a man, are you?” I spat, stepping into the room, my eyes locked on him.

James’s eyes darted between me, Devil, and Horse, panic written all over his face. He had no way out. He knew it. But I could see it in his eyes—he was still thinking about how to play this, still trying to figure out how to escape.

“I don’t want any trouble,” James stammered, his voice shaking. “This was a misunderstanding, alright? I was just trying to talk to her, that’s all.”

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