Page 63 of Property of Camo

“Nobody fucks with the Kings” is repeated as we accept Rocky into the arms of the brotherhood.

“Holy shit. There are so many dead people here,” Izzy chimes in a giddy tone to her voice, as she enters the room.

“For fuck’s sake, Iz,” Oryn mutters, shaking his head.

“What?” She looks at him innocently. “I know that his woman and friend are alive, because they are not wandering the halls.”

They banter back and forth. My skin itches to see Skyla, to lay my eyes on her and know that she is truly not leaving me.

“Who is Iz?” Eva asks from her seat, looking at us with wide eyes.

“A pain in my ass,” Oryn gripes.

“Hey.” Izzy slaps his bicep.

“Oryn can explain,” I reply.

I walk toward the door, passing Winger, who nods to me. My blood is pumping with the need to see my girl, the desire to see that she is breathing takes over and my steps pick up. A nurse steps out of her room, stopping me with one look.

“It will take a little longer for her to come around. I am warning you, biker, do not get in that bed with her. I know what you are all like when it comes to your women.” I nod, smirking at her.

Her cheeks pinken and she mutters, “Damn sexy Kings,” as she walks away.

Entering the room, I hold my breath and rage seeing Skyla hooked up to all kinds of machines. I sit on the edge of the bed, making sure not to jolt her too much, and take her hand in mine.

“I am sorry, and I will be sorry until the end of days, baby. No more, Skyla Delmont. You are mine, baby, and you are never leaving my side again.”

Leaning forward, I kiss her forehead as my promise to her soaks into my soul and redemption forms.

I am ready to make them pay and make her mine.

22

Skyla

Blinking slowly, the first thing I notice is the sterile scent of antiseptic and the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside me. My vision clears seeing that I am in a dimly lit hospital room. Closing my eyes again, the memories of what happened assault my brain, making tears fill my eyes.

Sensing someone is in the room with me, my eyes drift to the man sitting in the chair next to the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. It is like I can feel his pain as he prays quietly.

I never would have had Camo down for praying, but here he is.

His presence brings a wave of comfort and a rush of emotions. He stayed with me. I remember he was there before everything went black for the last time.

"Skyla?" His voice is a mixture of hope and relief, and his eyes, though tired, shine with a fierce protectiveness.

I manage a weak smile, my throat dry and voice barely a whisper. "Hi.”

He stands, taking my hand in his, his grip gentle yet firm. "Holy shit, baby. You scared the piss out of me. Don't ever scare me like that again," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "You're not leaving my side, not now, not ever."

His words hit my heart, but then I remember what it was like before I got hurt and I tug my hand back, making him frown.

“Skyla?”

Shaking my head, I instantly regret it, as I get dizzy. I close my eyes to fend off the nausea that swirls in my stomach.

“Be still, baby; you are hurt pretty bad. They had to put the drain in because your lung collapsed and you have some broken ribs,” he tells me.

Tears fill my eyes as the whole attack plays out in my head like a movie reel. The pain, the screaming. The way those men laughed as they hurt Clark and me. My eyes spring open and I look at a frowning Camo.

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