Page 53 of Knox

“Really sick of this shit!” she snapped, carefully but quickly finding me. She looked angry and only mildly scared. She’d survived plenty of shootouts. “Stop saving me from raining glass.”

“Noted,” I told her as Mason and Gabriel fired back from the safety of the trailer. Soon, the Wolverines would surround us. “Unlatch it, climb out. I’ll catch you.”

“I’m not Rapunzel.”

For all her complaining, Caroline obeyed expertly. She definitely wasn’t some damsel in distress. As soon as her feet hit the ground, a voice rang out.

“Hey, Caroline!”

She flinched at the taunting shout. “Heel,” she hissed.

“Prez sent us! Followed those Devils right to you. Come home, baby girl! Walter wants to apologize.”

“Yeah fucking right.”

I felt a burst of pride at the bitter mutter. She was on our side.

“We need to move our asses,” Mason said. “Running is our best shot. We can’t hide here, and we can’t get the truck or bikes without being walking targets.”

“Plunging through the forest ain’t getting us far,” I said roughly. “But you’re right. We call Jackson. Try and get backup.”

“On it.” Gabriel had already taken out his phone, texting quickly with one hand. “Best we can do. Let’s go.”

The Wolverine—Heel—kept taunting, but at least the gunfire had stopped. They must have been waiting for us to make a move.

I looked at Caroline. “You ready to sprint, spitfire?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she answered, gripping her knife tightly.

I met Mason’s and Gabriel’s gazes. My friends. My brothers. We had each other’s backs through thick and thin. We were bastards too stubborn to die. We’d survive this.

Mason nodded. “Let’s go, Devils.”

Together, we bolted.

Within seconds, the Wolverines had come around the trailer and were giving chase.

Gunfire cracked behind us, bullets snapping through trees, bark flying.

“Duck!” Gabriel shouted. “I got your back, Knox!”

I turned, caught his eyes just as the shot hit.

Right between the shoulders.

Gabriel dropped hard—and didn’t get back up.

CHAPTER 20

CAROLINE

I was no stranger to gunfights, but I had never felt like this during one.

Under my father, I was untouchable. Uncatchable.

I was heartless, ruthless, untethered to everything except keeping myself alive.

I was a selfish, self-preserving bitch. Surviving shootouts was just another day.

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