Page 115 of Knox

More Wolverines had shown up—seven more.

Fuck.

“Shoot, you dummy!” Caroline snapped.

“Let me aim first!”

I fired every damn bullet in the gun—only ten, which didn’t sound like much—but it brought three fuckers down for the count. Caroline, my badass bitch, took down two of her own members.

They caught on to our location quick, though.

“Duck!” I ordered, grabbing her arm and yanking her down behind a box that was shredded through in seconds. Bullets missed both Caroline and me by a hair. Splinters scratched my cheek. “How many bastards did you father recruit?!”

“Too many,” she growled. “They tipped the field back in their favor. Drop!”

More bullets peppered our cover. We went flat on our stomachs.

I pocketed the empty gun. The mag was empty but I could still use it as a club. “What do you want to do?”

“Help Jackson.”

“Seriously?”

Caroline gave me a flat look, then shoved her gun in her waistband. Why was that so sexy?

“Gotcha,” I said, knowing I couldn’t talk her out of it. “I’ll be your shield, woman.”

“Whatever. Just get me back to the office. And don’t fucking die on me.”

I inhaled deeply, gathering my remaining courage, and on the exhale, lurched up. The gunfire had stopped—toward us, at least. On the floor, it was a battlefield.

And the Devils were losing.

But that meant Bates wasn’t dead.

Why the fuck wasn’t he dead yet?

“Jackson,” I hissed, grabbing Caroline’s hand and pulling her into the fight. “Where the hell are you?”

It wasn’t long before we got sidetracked. I saw Mason get targeted again. But it wasn’t me to rush to his rescue.

It was Caroline.

She bolted through the chaos like nothing could touch her. I watched as if in slow motion. The bullets and bodies and fists were dragging through the air as slow as molasses, but she was a track star. She pulled her gun from her waistband, racking the slide like she was born with it in hand, and raised it without a beat of doubt.

The Wolverine had Mason by the collar, fist cocked back, ready to knock the VP—already pummeled beyond deserving—out cold.

His arm only made it halfway there before—Crack—Caroline’s bullet punched clean fucking through it. The Wolverine’s forearm snapped like a branch underfoot.

He screamed and dropped Mason, hunching over the useless arm, swearing up a storm.

Caroline’s stride didn’t falter. She planted herself between Mason and the Wolverine like she was his own damn riot shield. Then pressed the barrel of the gun between the Wolverine’s eyes. The unlucky bastard froze.

I blinked.

That woman.

That woman had the fucking guts to be a Devil any day.

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