A sick crack.
A choked grunt.
Fang moved.
Too fucking fast.
Before anyone could react, he twisted out of the zip ties like a goddamn snake, spinning behind Ricky and locking an arm around his throat.
“FUCK!” Ricky’s voice was barely a rasp before Fang put a knife in his gut.
Ricky collapsed.
Fang didn’t stop.
He shot up like he hadn’t just gotten his ass beat, legs already moving, feet kicking off the crates as he barreled toward the side door.
I lunged for him.
I was too fucking slow.
Gunshots rang out as Thunder and Mystic fired, but Fang was already dodging, weaving through the shadows, disappearing into the night like a fucking ghost.
I skidded to a halt at the open door, my breath coming in ragged snarls.
Gone.
That motherfucker was gone.
“SON OF A BITCH!” I roared, slamming my fist into the metal door so hard it rattled on its hinges.
The rage inside me burned white-hot, blinding.
Thunder cursed, running up to me, gun raised, scanning the darkness. “Shit, he’s fast. We lost him.”
Devil exhaled, rubbing his jaw. His face was tight, unreadable. “Should’ve killed him when we had the chance.”
No one fucking argued.
I turned, breathing hard, my whole body shaking. Lucy was still by the chair, her face pale, staring at the door like she could still feel him there.
“He’s coming back,” she whispered.
My chest tightened.
She wasn’t wrong.
Fang was still out there.
And he and Dragon Fire weren’t done.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
THE RIDE BACKwas a blur.
I didn’t hear the growl of Spinner’s bike. Didn’t register the morning wind biting at my skin.
All I could hear was Fang’s voice.