Page 50 of Fang

“Keep the package safe,” Ice says, already moving toward the front of the building, Bones following like a shadow.

“Can you handle this?” Mina asks as we climb into the front of the ambulance, her in the passenger seat, me behind the wheel.

“I’ve driven worse,” I assure her, starting the engine with a rumble. Through the side mirror, I watch Ice and Bones disappear around the corner of the building, running toward the gunfire instead of away from it. My throat knots—they’re going back into hell for their brothers, for the club.

I put the ambulance in drive and pull away from the hospital, lights off to avoid drawing attention. In the back, Scalpel works with focused intensity, murmuring reassurances to Rory as he stabilizes him for the journey. Mina turns in her seat, maintaining contact with her brother through the partition, as if afraid he might disappear again if she looks away.

Through my earpiece, I hear Vapor’s voice rise above the chaos: “Fall back to the vans! Move, move, move!”

In the rearview mirror, I catch a final glimpse of the hospital—flashes of gunfire illuminating the night, dark figures sprinting toward the waiting vans, bullets pinging off metal and concrete. Vapor brings up the rear, covering his brothers’ retreat, diving into the lead van as it lurches into motion under sustained fire.

Then we turn a corner, and the hospital disappears from view. In the back of the ambulance, Rory’s vital signs beepsteadily on Scalpel’s portable monitors. Beside me, Mina exhales slowly, a decade of tension releasing in that single breath.

“We did it,” she whispers, half to herself. “We actually did it.”

I reach across the console and take her hand, squeezing once before returning my focus to the road ahead, to the uncertain future that awaits us all once the adrenaline fades and the real work of keeping Rory safe begins.

“I’m getting in the back,” she says, climbing over the seat so she can sit next to her brother. I glance in the rearview mirror and smile. She’s so happy she’s crying.

Returning my attention to the highway, I flinch as two black SUVs fly past us. They keep going. For now. I just hope they don’t make a U-turn.

Chapter 19: Mina

I squeeze past the partition separating the front cab from the patient area, my heart racing faster than the ambulance’s engine. Rory lies on the gurney, thin and pale under the harsh interior lights, tubes and wires connecting him to a jungle of medical equipment. His eyes track my movement, clearer than I expected but still clouded with confusion.

He’s here. He’s really here.

After days of struggling to get to him, my brother is within arm’s reach. Relief hits me like a physical wave, threatening to wash away all the strength I’ve carefully maintained.

“Mina?” His voice is a dry whisper, barely audible above the rumble of tires on asphalt and the steady beep of monitors. “Are you really taking me away from them?”

I collapse onto the small fold-down seat beside his gurney, grabbing his hand between both of mine. His skin feels too cool, too thin, like tissue paper stretched over bird bones. I can see every blue vein, every tendon. He’s lost weight he couldn’t afford to lose.

“Yes,” I manage, my throat constricting around the words. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

Scalpel works methodically on Rory’s other side, adjusting IV drips and checking readings on a portable monitor. His movements are precise, clinical, but there’s a gentleness to them, not something I expected from a man who rides with amotorcycle club. But he was a doctor first, and I guess he’ll never really lose his bedside manner.

“How is he?” I ask Scalpel, not taking my eyes off Rory’s face, afraid he might disappear if I look away for even a second.

Scalpel glances up. “Stable, for now. Kidney function is poor but manageable. He’s dehydrated, malnourished, but his vitals are stronger than I anticipated.” He checks something on one of the machines. “They were treating him well. Just enough to keep him alive.”

“Because he was bait,” I say, the words bitter on my tongue.

“Because you would have burned their world to the ground if they’d let him die,” Scalpel corrects, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. “They knew what you’re capable of.”

The ambulance swerves slightly, and Rory winces as the movement jostles him. I tighten my grip on his hand, as if I could somehow absorb the pain for him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Rory. I never should have left you alone. I should have found a way to get to you sooner.”

“Hey, hey,” Rory murmurs, his free hand shakily reaching up to touch my face. His fingers brush a tear from my cheek. “You came. That’s all that matters. I knew I could count on you.”

The tears flow freely now, tracking hot paths down my cheeks. I’ve held myself together through gunfights and car chases, through infiltrating cartel strongholds and facing down killers, but here—with my brother alive and speaking to me—I finally break. Sobs wrack my body, my shoulders shaking with the force of them.

“I was so scared,” I confess, words spilling out between gasps for breath. “When they took you from the hospital, when I couldn’t find you… I thought—”

“I knew you’d find me,” Rory interrupts, his voice weak but steady. “Remember when I got lost at the state fair when I was five? You found me then too.”

A choked laugh escapes me. “That was different. You were just hiding in the livestock pavilion because you wanted to pet the rabbits.”

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