Page 121 of Pack Me Up
A bullet whines past, ricochets off metal, and makes the whole ground vibrate. Cody doesn’t even flinch.
I try to push him off, but my hands won’t work. My left arm dangles from my shoulder like a broken puppet. There’s glass in my palm, too, a tiny sparkle of pain with every twitch.
“Get up,” I croak. It comes out soft, but he still hears it. His face is right above mine, streaked with dirt and sweat and blood. One eye is swollen shut, the other burning electric green in the haze of headlights.
“No,” he snaps. “Not leaving you, wild girl. Don’t even think about it.”
“They need you,” I hiss, my own voice shredded.
He shakes his head so hard his hair slaps wet against my cheek. “You’re my mate. You come first.”
My vision wobbles, tunnels in and out. Between Cody’s arms, I catch glimpses of bodies moving. Saint’s silhouette, broad and purposeful, is dragging Fox behind the bumper of our dead car. I recognize Hunter’s voice, but it’s far, far away.
Cody’s grip gets tighter. I feel the heat from his skin, the stickiness of our blood mixing on the back of my neck.
Something cold and hard presses against my calf. For a second, I think it’s another piece of the road, but then the shape resolves. A gun. The Loomer who tackled us must’ve lost it in the scuffle. I move my foot, slow, careful not to show my hand.
I slide it closer, hook it under my thigh, and hope Cody doesn’t notice. He’s too busy scanning the kill zone above me, his body a tense, vibrating wire.
A few yards away, a Loomer alpha ducks out from behind the other car, aiming his rifle at Saint. The flash is so bright I see it through my eyelids. I expect Saint to go down, but instead, he pivots, grabs Fox’s wrist, and throws them both sideways. The bullet rips through the air where their heads just were. Saint cocks his gun and has a bullet in the other man’s leg within seconds.
Cody watches, jaw clamped so tight the veins stand out like blue cables. “Motherfucker,” he spits.
My pack has been hit, I can feel their pain down the bond. The Loomer Pack, on the other hand, has no one left.
Saint looks at me, then at Cody, then at the heap of bodies littering the road. He sighs, the sound more relief than exhaustion. “It’s over,” he says, and for a second, I believe him.
But then, from the darkness behind the second truck, a voice screams, “Enough!”
Every muscle in my body goes tight. The Loomer Pack leader steps into the spill of headlights, gun raised, eyes wild.
He points the gun right at me, and the whole world freezes.
I remember the way he held me when my parents dropped me off, and there’s nothing I want more than to end him.
He cocks the gun, finger curling around the trigger.
“This omega belongs to us,” he says, voice shaking with hate. “We paid for her.”
Saint stands his ground. “You’re not taking her.”
The Loomer’s hand is steady. “You think you can just take what’s ours and run?” he sneers. “We paid for this omega. We have every right—”
His finger twitches, half-squeezing the trigger.
Time slows. A memory jolts through my skull, sharp and bright: Hunter, laughing at the shooting range, showing me how to line up the shot. The lesson stuck, even now, even as I’m about to die.
I could pass the gun to Cody, but he’s injured. I need to do this.
“Cody, roll off me now,” I demand.
“Not a chance in hell,” he growls.
“I need you to trust me!”
He only hesitates a second before doing as I ask.
I inhale, deep and raw, lungs full of smoke and blood.
