Page 63 of Unmasked Rivalry
It seems like hours, but in reality, it is probably only minutes.
The chaos that comes is louder than the blast. Motorbikes, sirens, so many sounds filling the air.
Then someone bellowing my name, over and over.
Knox.
I can’t move.
I’m just glued to this ground, to this place, never wanting to leave. Zane’s face is in my mind, and every single time it flashes across my vision, I wail louder.
It is only seconds for Knox to find me out here, and when he does, his entire face sinks. I know that whatever I look like tells him that things went bad, and by bad, I mean his brother is dead. Someone who was far stronger than blood ever could be.
A club brother.
The strongest type.
He’s on his knees beside me in seconds, hauling me into his arms, and I’m screaming, my words babbled and making no sense. I keep saying his name, over and over again. Knox holds onto me so tightly I am certain I stop breathing, but right now, it’s the only thing stopping me from sinking completely.
Somewhere in the distance, sirens wail—muted, but closing in fast. Knox holds me like the world just went off its axis, his arms locked so tightly around my shaking body I can feel his heart pumping through his chest, like it’s trying to beat enoughblood for both of us. All I can do is sob into his shoulder, sucking air that tastes copper and smoke. My mouth won’t stop saying Zane’s name, like if I say it enough, this will all be different.
Hands are on my back. He’s rocking me, muttering words that are just a drone in my ears until I finally choke enough to hear: “You’re okay, I got you—breathe, fuck, please—breathe.” The hot wetness sliding down my face could be mine or his, I don’t know.
I push off him, gasp for breath, and when I look up, his eyes are wild, rimmed red and desperate, searching my face for something human. “What happened?” he barks, voice sandpaper-raw.
I can only shake my head, mouth working but no sound coming out. “It’s Zane,” I finally croak. “The bomb—he—he fucked up, and it—he—he held it, so it wouldn’t—” The rest disappears into a burst of sobs. Knox’s head falls forward, just for a split second, like the sheer gravity of the truth made his whole body buckle.
He doesn’t ask again. Just pulls me up, one arm under my knees, another around my shoulders, and hauls me through the grass like a rag doll. His strength is all rage and grief and necessity, body shaking with each step but never hesitating. The world is chaos—men yelling, police shouting, smoke curling up to blot the late afternoon sun. None of it touches us. He doesn’t stop until we’re at his bike, parked down the track where the trees merge into the pasture.
I am set on the ground, but my legs still don’t work, so I collapse against him, my hands curling into his shirt with a white-knuckle grip. I don’t even realize I’m digging into his chest until he peels them gently away, holds them both in his own trembling hands.
Knox’s eyes are empty. Hollowed out. This is a different kind of loss, bone-deep and echoing. He presses his forehead to mine, his voice a shredded whisper: “He’s gone?”
I can’t even nod. I just start to wail again, this animal sound I don’t even recognize. He shushes me, rocking back and forth. “He did it to save you,” Knox tells me, jaw working. “He fuckin’ always said he’d go out his own way. He didn’t want any of us to have to—” He can’t even finish. I watch the words back up behind his teeth until his jaw clicks.
Minute by minute, the world moves. Voices blur behind us, the fire department and cops rolling in. Knox tucks my hair back from my face, wipes my cheek with his thumb. He yanks his phone out, types something rapid-fire. A minute later, the low thunder of bikes comes rolling down the shoulder of the distant road. I see them at the top of the paddock, riding three across, not even pretending to obey traffic laws.
Knox lifts me onto the back of his bike, climbs in front, and tells me, “Hold on, we can’t stay here, it’s too risky.” I do, arms snaked around his ribs, forehead to his spine. I hear his heart pounding through his shirt. He doesn’t wait for anything, just guns it, wheels pounding through the soft grass, away from the house, the cops, the mess left behind.
He takes us down a gravel road—one of the ones that just ends up in a forgotten stretch of woods. The other bikes are already there. We are about to tell them the worst news of their lives. I slide off when the bike stops, my legs wobbling. Knox stands, face turned to the tree line. Wolfe is first off his bike, and when he sees me, his whole face changes.
It’s like he knows.
He doesn’t need to ask.
“He’s gone,” Knox tells Wolfe, his voice low and broken. “Somethin’ went wrong, he got Callie out. Had no choice.”
Wolfe’s face falls, and the pain I see there is enough to start the sobs again. Mera rushes over, and when she sees us all, her face drops, too. “No. What happened?”
“Zane is dead,” Knox grinds out, his voice like gravel.
Mera screams.
Everything else is a blur after that.
There are cries of pain and roars of frustration, and so many arms around me, that I don’t even know who they belong to. I apologize, over and over again, telling them I tried, I begged, that I did everything I could.
It doesn’t make me feel better.
