Page 182 of The Outlaw's Savage Revenge

Nothing.

And then—

A deafening crash shatters the silence as the front door bursts open.

In seconds, two men dressed in black tactical gear storm into the kitchen, weapons raised as they take in the carnage.

“Clear!” one of them barks, and more flood in behind him, moving with terrifying efficiency.

They’re on us in moments, poking, prodding . . . and cursing.

“Pulse barely there. BP in the sink—”

“Two IOs, stat. Push Ringer’s. Six units of O-neg—”

“OR better be standing the fuck by, and I want vasc and trauma ready to roll!”

A hand lands on my shoulder, warm but firm. “Ma’am, we’ll need you to move.”

“No!” I clutch Cade tighter, my voice cracking. “I can’t leave him—”

“Luna.” The man’s voice softens. “Let us help him.”

They know my name?

Gentle hands pry me away as the team surrounds Cade. Someone drapes a blanket over my shoulders, but I barely feel it. My eyes remain locked on Cade as they work to stabilize him.

“That’s a nasty cut, ma’am.” Someone gestures to my arm. I glance down, surprised to see blood running from shoulder to elbow. When did that happen?

The room tilts. Everything narrows, tunnels.

I try to follow as they lift Cade onto the stretcher, but my legs won’t cooperate. Everything is suddenly too bright, too sharp. The emerald on my finger catches the light—a flicker of green fire that burns like his eyes, like the future draining away with every second.

Don’t leave me, Cade. We haven’t even started.

The world tips. Someone shouts.

Then nothing but darkness.

54

Luna

Tears slip silently down my temples and soak into my hair as I lie motionless on the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling.

An IV drips steadily into my arm, the other wrapped tight in white gauze. Sophie’s hand is warm in mine, anchoring me as the world spins.

She’s been a constant presence since I woke up, her thumb tracing circles on my hand, while her other hand quietly wipes away her own tears when she thinks I’m not looking.

“Your father’s here,” she says softly, her voice catching. “He’s waiting with Phoenix, Nico, Dante . . . and half the Druids too, I think.”

“Papa?” The word comes out raw, unfamiliar.

“Nico had to tell him.” Sophie’s lips form the word “Capo” silently, and my stomach lurches. It’s real. It might feel like a lifetime ago that Nico pressed that onyx ring into my palm, but he obviously wasn’t bluffing.

I swallow the knot of panic and focus on something else. “How long . . . ?” The words scrape past my dry lips.

Sophie’s eyes flick to the clock. “Four hours in surgery.”

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