Page 93 of Knox

“What’d he do to her?”

I looked at my president square in the eye and said, “He had one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t a fucking conversation. I stopped it but just barely.”

Jackson’s eyes flashed with understanding, but he didn’t say anything. Just pulled out his phone and tapped a contact. He put the ringing line on speakerphone. “Mason. Wolverines are twenty minutes out. We’re already fifteen out from the back route. Load the trucks.”

“Got it,” said Mason from the other end. “Ride like hell.”

“Is Caroline okay?” I blurted before either of them could hang up.

“She’s fine,” Mason said coldly, then ended the call.

Jackson pocketed his phone and gave me a sharp look. “Stop thinking with your dick,” he warned.

“I’m not,” I snapped back without thinking of the consequences. “I’m thinking with my head and heart. Same as you about Sam. This ends today.”

I knew Jackson wanted to argue that Sam was one of us and Caroline was still a liability, but we were short on time.

We rode hard for the Well, not hindered by tailing anyone. Miraculously, we weren’t caught by any cops.

And we made it with minutes to spare before the Wolverines got there.

The other Devils were gone, precisely as planned, as Jackson and I hopped into his battered pickup that we loaded with road spikes courtesy of one of Black Jack’s old military buddies. They were heavy sons of bitches, but the hard labor took my mind off Caroline and the impending bloodbath, even if temporarily.

We went stock still when we heard the pack of engines up the road.

“Shit!” I hissed. “We can’t be seen. Go.”

We hauled ass out of the back lot, doing some illegal off-roading, and skidded onto the main road. Somehow, we managed it at a time when no cars were in the way to slam on their horns and draw attention.

Then came the scary part: we had to drive past the gang of bikes.

I ducked down to hide myself entirely, and Jackson yanked up his hoodie. He was white-knuckling the wheel, shoulders hunched, jaw clenched. I held my breath, trying to peer out the window to catch a glimpse of the fuckers trying to ruin our lives for the past several years.

As the last one roared by, I sat up like a shot and twisted in my seat to count their stupid heads through the back window as they drove toward the now-empty Well.

“Shit,” I muttered.

Jackson yanked his hood down. “What? What’s wrong?”

My heart was pounding in my ears. I watched them disappear over a hill, and my thoughts kicked into gear at a hundred miles an hour.

Jackson shoved his palm against my head to snap me out of my daze. “Fucking what, Knox?!” he roared.

“I only counted thirteen,” I said. It sounded like a death knell.

Jackson gripped the wheel so tightly I thought he’d break it in half. “Fuck. Fuck, shit, damn, hell?—”

I swallowed hard. “Thirteen. One is missing.”

CHAPTER 32

CAROLINE

For so long, I wanted to see the demise of the Devil’s Luck. I wanted to see them bleed and die for the war they started when my father killed William Black. They caused nothing but discord, a giant thorn in Walter’s side.

But the truth was, it wasn’t really me who wanted them dead and gone.

It was the daughter who followed her father as if he had built the world with his own hands.

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