Page 70 of Queen of Blades

Paul

Completeandutterpandemonium.Screams echoed off the walls as pops and flashes from gunfire filled the open space of the motorcycle club. Paul stepped over a body as he fired at the brute running toward him. Fights broke out among the people fleeing. Dodging them, wearing night vision goggles, he did his best to search for Harper amid the chaos. She was his only priority. There were enough of his men around to take care of the bikers.

He had to keep his focus. Giving in to the surrounding panic would only make him careless. Once he knew Harper was safe and out of here, they could put all this bullshit behind them.

Ducking behind an overturned table, he crouched and took stock of things. He needed a plan. Finding her in the frenzy was impossible. There were just too many people running around. She could dash right past him with the other scared women, and he wouldn’t even know—if she hadn’t done so already.

He needed a better view. Glancing upward, he noted that there was a catwalk-like hallway circling the main room. To his right were the stairs.

Perfect.

Darting out from his cover, shooting as he went, Paul charged toward the steps.

Harper

In all her years of being connected to the motorcycle club, Harper had never been caught in anything remotely like the bedlam that was a gunfight. Of course, she’d seen squabbles here and there. Bruised egos meant fists flew. Sometimes, even the knives came out, but nothing like this. It’d be a miracle if she made it out alive.

Most of the action was down below. Did she really want to risk running straight into danger? She’d been shot once already, and that was enough for her. Getting struck by another stray bullet wasn’t high on Harper’s priority list. Unfortunately, the only way out was downstairs. At least up here, on the second floor, her only threat was a man bleeding out from the dick.

Glancing over her shoulder, she couldn’t find Dwight in the pitch-black despite her eyes adjusting. Even the flashes of light from the lower level weren’t enough for her to spot him. Which meant he was on the move.

Blowing out a breath, she knew she couldn’t risk staying put. Turning, she considered hiding in one of the bedrooms. There was no way anyone was in any of them. They wouldn’t just stay back while their brothers were getting massacred.

A pained roar sounded from behind her. She couldn’t wait anymore. If she was going to get anywhere, she had to go now. Dwight hopped up on whatever he’d taken was feisty. He didn’t even have the common decency to just lie down and die.

Stubborn fuck.

Stumbling, Harper rounded the corner as she scrambled to get away from him. Keeping her hand along the railing as a guide, and as a little support considering her injuries, she did her best to keep going.

If she ducked into a bedroom, Dwight would find her. She couldn’t be a sitting duck for him. She had to escape this hell.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Harper’s heart flipped. She’d made it. Panting, she paused, studying the rumble below. Her only saving grace was that the exit was mere feet from the bottom of the steps. She could do it.

The animalistic cry behind her was far too loud. Startled, she reflexively turned toward it in time to see Dwight’s crazed bearded face as he launched himself toward her. As his crushing weight slammed into her, her hand slipped off the railing and she fell backward, tumbling down the stairs with him on top of her.

After everything, this was how she would die—falling down a flight of stairs in Dwight’s arms.

Fuck my life.

Paul

Paul threw his head back, his left leg buckling as a bullet tore through his flesh. His back arched, and he screamed through his gritted teeth. He had to keep going despite the pain.

As he reached the bottom of the staircase, he looked up and jumped. A tangle of arms and legs was rolling down and headed right for him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that nimble and was bowled over by the pair.

With a heavy grunt, he fell back and bounced off the floor with two people on top of him, and his night vision goggles went flying.

“You fucking bitch,” boomed the guy. Diesel.

“Dickless twunt,” she snapped back. Thank Christ—Harper.

Diesel and a very scantily clad Harper brawled atop him, seeming to be completely unaware that Paul had cushioned their landing. Blinking, he gasped, trying to scramble out from beneath them.

“I’m going to kill you,” Diesel snarled.

Harper wheezed a scoff. “You don’t have the balls.Literally.”

She laughed. In the middle of a goddamn gunfight, Harper not only mocked butlaughedat the guy trying to actively murder her.

---