Page 76 of Ruin Me Knot
"They’re going to kill us if they catch us! Do something!" Simon shrieks.
Deacon’s voice is thick with panic. "What do you think I’m trying to do? We’ll be fine as long as she’s in the van. They won’t risk hurting their precious Omega."
He’s right. Ronan won’t risk crashing into us if there’s the faint possibility of hurting me. The open door is just there, freedom at my fingertips, but we’re going too fast to jump out.
Deacon’s eyes are wild. "I’ll edge them to the river, shove them straight in. That’ll finish them."
I have to do something. I’m done being a victim, done letting Alphas decide what happens to my body. I won’t let these bastards lead my Alphas.MyAlphas, who’ve risked everything for me, into certain death.
I fight the roll of the van as it careens down side streets, casting around blindly, heartbeat roaring, vision streaking with fear and fury. My gaze lands on a black toolbox, kicked half under the front seat. Hope stabs through the terror. That is what I need.
I lunge, battering my knees on cold metal, hands shaking as I fumble at the latch. The van bucks, my fingers slip, but I grit my teeth and claw it open to see metal tools strewn inside.
Simon turns, eyes wide, face ugly with fear and fury. "What the fuck do you think you’re doing?" He raises a gun toward me.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t even think. My fingers close over the heavy spanner on the top of the pile. I grip it with both fists and swing as hard as I can, slamming metal into his temple. The crack is sickening. Blood spatters across the dash. His hand jerks, the gun goes off, deafening, bullet punching a new hole in the van’s roof as he crumples against the door.
"What did you do, you stupid bitch?" Deacon yanks the wheel, the van swerving so hard I lose my footing, tools skittering as I crash into the side, spine rattling with the impact.
His words are gasoline on the blaze of fury inside me. I’m done with this. Done being spoken to like less than nothing.
"What do you think I’m doing, you fuckwit? I’m fighting back." The spanner is still warm with Simon’s blood. I square my shoulders, preparing to fight for my life and for the Alphas fighting like hell for me.
Ronan’s van sweeps up beside the open side door. Close. So close, but Deacon’s fumbling with something metal.
"Fuck this. No cunt is worth my life." Deacon lifts a gun, aiming at me over his shoulder.
Blood roars in my ears. I hurl the spanner across the cab. It catches Deacon’s jaw. His head snaps sideways and the van skids over a curb. His foot slips off the accelerator, speed bleeding away.
I grab a hammer from the debris and fling it. It sails past his temple, shattering the side window. Shards of glass rain inward as cold air knifes through the van.
Deacon roars, lifts the gun again and aims at my chest, but Ronan’s van nudges forward, close enough to see fury etched onto their faces.
Ronan closes the gap, metal gnashing as he shoulders us off the road. The sound is a monstrous, annihilating wail. Steel shears against steel as we’re driven sideways into a building, tires shrieking, windows shattering, the whole world thrumming with the violence of Ronan’s intent. My neck whips forward, ribs slamming against the floor when we crash to a hard, final stop.
For a second, the silence is obscene, just the hiss of struggling engine and settling glass. I’m blinking through stars, the taste of copper thick in my mouth, when Deacon scrambles into the back of the van with me. Before I can move, he grabs my hair and shoves me in front of him. The muzzle of his gun presses cold and absolute against my temple. His arm bands tight across my throat.
I can hardly breathe, my vision tunneling, but my gaze is fixed on the blur of movement outside as my Alphas converge.
Deacon’s voice cracks with hysteria. "Get back! I’ll kill her! I’ll fucking kill her!"
They barrel through the door. Ronan locks his hand around Deacon’s wrist, wrenching the gun away. Jax grabs my waist and hauls me out of Deacon’s grip, while Gabriel pins Deacon to the crumpled wall of the van. Deacon’s finger spasms, and a shot cracks through the van. The concussion rings through my skull. Ronan’s hand comes up, thick fingers circling Deacon’s neck, squeezing until his face mottles.
“Where were you taking our Omega?” Ronan’s voice splits with volcanic fury.
Deacon’s eyes roll, mouth moving, but only a wheeze emerges.
Ronan tightens his grip. “Tell us where you were going and I might let you rot in a cell instead of ending your sack of shit life now.”
Deacon coughs, feet scrabbling. “Get…Omega…”
Gabriel’s fist clamps over Deacon’s shoulder so hard the van shudders. “You want to live, you give us something useful.”
Deacon’s face deepens to purple under Ronan’s grip, mouth stretching in a final, silent gasp before his body sags.
“Ronan. Shit, you shouldn’t have squeezed his throat,” Jax mutters. “We needed him talking, not…”
Ronan’s jaw tightens. “I wasn’t trying to kill him. Not yet.” He yanks Deacon’s jacket open to reveal a shard of metal skewering his stomach. “Fuck. He’s gone.”
