Page 151 of Ruthless Reign

“You made it,” I choked into her hair.

She pulled me back, giving me a duh look that almost made me laugh. “Um, obviously,” she said with a crooked brow. “You’re my girl, Becks. Ride or die.”

“Ride or die,” I repeated with a hollow laugh.

Damien ran up, coming to a sudden stop right on top of Séamas. He threw his unmoving body over onto his back and cursed, spitting on his corpse with barely contained rage still burning like open flames in his eyes.

“I couldn’t let him get away,” I said. “He needed to die.”

Sloane, caught up now, stared down at Séamas’ prone form and back up to me. “You did this?”

I nodded.

I wasn’t sure what the rules were. Damien said the Irishman was his, but what if he’d gotten away? Or hurt Aodhán?

“I’m sorry, I?—”

“Come here, kid.”

Damien wrapped me up in a hug that I didn’t see coming. One I didn’t realize I needed. “Well,” he said gruffly, the word expanding against me as he squeezed me and let go. “There’s no doubting it. You’re definitely a St. Vincent.”

“Definitely a Saint,” Kaleb added, and I let him tug me to him to press a kiss to my temple. I felt Hardin’s hand on my mid-back, like he just needed to feel that I was there. Unharmed. Okay.

“Are they all dead?” I asked, trying to see past them to the small group of Saints and a couple Sinners picking their way through the dead. Maybe searching for injured Saints to help, or injured Sons to sacrifice.

“They will be,” Damien replied, the words a promise. “Come on, Sloane,” he said, jerking his chin back toward the death pit I’d rather never look at again. “We should help the boys. Zade?”

“Coming, D.”

“You kids get out of here. Make sure none of them managed to get out. Meet us at the house later.”

Right. They’d need to figure out how the hell to put everything back together. By the look of it, Damien was down more than half of his own men. I didn’t even want to know what that felt like.

I could see the effect it had on Hardin and Kaleb—their expressions relieved but withdrawn.

“Is anyone else starving?” Rook clutched a hand to his blood splattered stomach, leaning his AK against his shoulder casually as his face pinched up. “I could really go for some fries right now.”

Ava Jade punched him in the arm.

“Ah, Ghost,” he snapped back without any real anger. “What? We’ve been driving all night.”

“You need stitching up then we’ll talk about takeout, okay?”

He looked at the bullet wound still slowly seeping blood in his shoulder like it offended him but grumbled a request to Grey to help him with it.

She rolled her eyes, leaving him to wax poetic to Grey about his desperate need for fast food as she came to stand next to me.

“So,” she said with a gleam in her arctic eyes. “Want to tell me how you learned to shoot?”

I let out a short sigh. “Only if you tell me how the hell you ended up here in dune buggies at the last possible second.”

A wicked smirk pulled up the corner of her lips, and I knew it was going to be a damn good story. “Trade stories over burgers and shakes?”

As if on cue, my stomach growled loud enough to silence the hushed conversation between my Kings and the Crows. For the first time in what felt like weeks I was actually hungry.

Like, really fucking hungry.

A flush heated my cheeks, and I cleared my throat.

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