Page 106 of Blood & Throttle
The only reason I’m still breathing is because the Syndicate likes the way I bleed on camera. The second the ratings dip? They won’t lift a finger to stop Kane. Hell, they’ll probably gift-wrap my head and toss in a thank-you card just to stay on his good side.
And Riot?
Riot’ll turn this whole place into a fucking bonfire.
Ghost drops from the rafters like a ninja made of caffeine and bad decisions. He lands without a sound, flipping his hood back with a lazy shrug like gravity bores him.
“East corridor’s clear,” he says. “Handlers are setting up suppressors at the entry points. Two are armed. One’s limping.”
Bishop doesn’t even look up from where he’s stripping old wiring with his teeth. “Yeah, that one tripped.”
Ghost raises an eyebrow. “On what? Yourfist?”
Bishop smirks, dark and unapologetic. “Nah. On my boot. Repeatedly.”
I snort. “You kicked a handler?”
“He got grabby with Taz,” he shrugs. “Didn’t like the look in his eyes.”
Taz perks up from her spot near Riot’s feet, ears twitching like she remembers the guy’s scent and is still considering a second round.
“Well,” I say, tightening a bolt on the sensor panel, “remind me to send him a thank-you card. Maybe with some crutches.”
Ghost snorts, pulling his tablet out of his pack. “Anyway, suppressors are live. Drones are watching but not interfering yet.”
Luca swipes his greasy fingers down his pants and says, “Flares are rigged to deploy if the sensors pick up body clusters.”
“Clusters?” I echo.
He shrugs. “Corpses. Heat signatures in clumps.”
Bishop whistles. “Damn. That's one hell of a bedtime story.”
Luca flips him off with two fingers. Ghost chuckles like it’s background noise.
I finish the calibration, stand, and stretch my back until it pops.
This crew? These sarcastic, violent, brilliant bastards?
They’re mine.
I never had that before. Never had a family that didn’t want something from me. Never had a home that didn’t come with conditions.
But this? This fucked-up little unit of misfits and mechanics?
They’d bleedfor me.
They already have.
And I’d die for every one of them.
Riot finally steps closer, looming like a storm I don’t have the energy to dodge. I toss him a rag, and he catches it like he saw it coming before I even moved.
He crouches beside me, and the space between us shrinks to nothing. His thigh brushes mine as he starts checking the wiring without a word. Still so fucking silent.
It’s the kind of silence that’s heavy. Loud. Laced with all the shit he won’t say.
I wipe my hands on my pants, then glance at him. “You know,” I say, voice low, not teasing for once. “You don’t have to carry everyone.”
