Page 24 of Knot Happening

I had watched her grow from afar, had admired her resilience, her quiet strength.Darcy, with her brilliant mind and her gentle heart, she was not meant for the life her father had planned for her.She was meant to fly, to break free from the chains of expectation and societal norms.And I, I was meant to be by her side, to protect her, to cherish her.

The realization that I was just a step behind her, that I had been too late, was a bitter pill to swallow.I should have been there to shield her from the moment her father decided to play God with her life.I should have been there to whisk her away before the heat took hold, before she had to endure the agony of a heat in public.

I remembered the feel of her, the softness of her skin, the way she had trembled in my arms on the bus.It was a moment of vulnerability, of raw need, and I had been there for her, a silent guardian.But it hadn't been enough.

I moved through the crowd, my senses heightened, my gaze sharp.I couldn't afford to miss a thing, not now.I had to find her, and I had to make sure she was safe.I had to make up for lost time, for the moments I had wasted hiding in the shadows, pretending to be something I was not.

I quickened my pace, my heart pounding in my chest.I was close, so damn close.I could feel it in my bones.Darcy was near, and I would move heaven and earth to reach her in time.I wouldn't be just a step behind her any longer.I would be right beside her, where I belonged.

twenty-six

AXEL

I had been casingthe Iron Serpents' hideout for days, watching their comings and goings, noting their security measures, and memorizing the layout of their grimy fortress.The plan was simple, but it had to be executed with precision.There was no room for error; Razor's life and the security of the Vultures hung in the balance.

The night was dark, the moon a mere sliver in the sky, providing just enough cover for what needed to be done.I parked my bike a good distance away, the roar of the engine fading into the din of the city that never sleeps.I made my way to the safe house, my steps silent, my mind focused.

The local chapter of the Vultures had provided me with a small arsenal.I checked my weapons one last time.A Beretta with a silencer, a switchblade for close combat, and a set of lock picks.I was ready.

I approached the Iron Serpents' hideout, a rundown warehouse reeking of oil and metal.The guards were sloppy, their attention more focused on their cards and whiskey than their surroundings.I took them out swiftly and quietly, one by one, their bodies slumping to the ground before they could raise an alarm.

The inside of the warehouse was a maze of shadows and rusted machinery.I moved through it like a ghost, guided by the faint sounds of suffering.I found Razor in a dimly lit back room, his body a canvas of bruises and cuts.The sight of him, bound and broken, ignited a fire within me.The Iron Serpents would pay for this.

Razor's eyes flickered with recognition when he saw me.I moved quickly, cutting through his restraints with my switchblade.He winced as I helped him to his feet, his breaths shallow and labored.

"We need to move, brother," I whispered, supporting his weight as we made our way out.

Razor nodded, leaning heavily on me.We had almost reached the exit when the sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse.I pushed Razor behind a stack of crates and readied my Beretta.

I had just slipped out of the shadows, my heart pounding in my chest like a primal drum.The Iron Serpents poured into the room, their boots thundering against the concrete floor, their laughter a grating soundtrack to their ignorance.I counted at least a dozen of them, their numbers greater than I had anticipated, but I had the element of surprise on my side.

The first to fall didn't even see me.My Beretta spat death, the silencer muffling the sound of gunfire, and the man crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.The others scrambled, reaching for their weapons, but it was too late.I took out the next few with calculated shots, their bodies dropping before they could even draw their weapons.

The deafening sound of gunfire reverberated off the metal walls, a chaotic symphony of violence and retribution.I kept Razor shielded with my body, my arm wrapped around his waist, half-dragging him as we moved.I returned fire with deadly accuracy, each bullet a testament to years of honing my skills on the road.The Iron Serpents fell one by one, their resolve no match for the fury that fueled my every move.

But even with the advantage of surprise, the fight was far from over.The air crackled with danger, each breath I took laced with the metallic tang of blood and the sharp scent of gunpowder.An Iron Serpent lunged at me from the side, his face contorted in a snarl.I pivoted, delivering a swift kick that sent him sprawling, even as the sharp sting of a bullet grazed my shoulder.The pain was a white-hot lance, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

The firefight raged on, the warehouse a labyrinth of flying bullets and howls of pain.I felt more than heard the thud of a bullet burying itself into my side, just below my ribcage.The impact knocked the wind out of me, but I didn't falter.I gritted my teeth against the pain, my grip on Razor and my Beretta unyielding.

When the last man dropped, his weapon clattering uselessly to the floor, a victorious smile spread across my face, and I released a breath of pure elation.My ears rang with the echoes of the gunfight, the silence that followed almost deafening.I turned to Razor, his face pale in the dim light, his eyes wide with a mix of pain and gratitude.He needed medical attention, and fast, but we had to get out of there first.

I slung his arm over my shoulder, ignoring the searing pain in my side as I helped him stagger toward the exit.The world outside the warehouse was a blur of shadows and city lights, the cool night air a welcome relief against my heated skin.We left behind a scene of carnage, a message to anyone who dared cross the Vultures.

We reached my bike, and I carefully helped him onto it.I revved the engine, the familiar vibration a stark contrast to the chaos we had just left behind.As we sped away, the warehouse—and the nightmare it held—faded into the distance.

The safe house wasn't far, but every minute counted.I pushed the bike to its limits, weaving through the city's sleeping streets.When we finally arrived, I scooped Razor into my arms and carried him inside.

* * *

I watched the doctor's hands move with practiced precision, stitching up Razor's wounds with a focused intensity that spoke of years in the field.The room was bathed in the sterile glow of the overhead lights, casting long, deep shadows that seemed to dance across the walls.The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood and the sharp bite of antiseptic.

I knew I should've been sitting down, letting the doc take a look at the bullet in my side.But Razor needed the attention more than I did.He'd taken the brunt of the Iron Serpents' brutality.

After a few minutes, I stood up, my muscles protesting the sudden movement.I needed some fresh air, needed to clear my head before I did something stupid—like pass out from blood loss.I slipped out of the room, leaving the doc to his work.

The night air was cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the cloying heat of the safe house.I took a deep breath, the scent of exhaust and city life filling my lungs.I rolled my shoulder, wincing at the sharp stab of pain that radiated from my wound.I'd deal with it soon enough, but first, I needed a moment of solitude.

That's when I saw her.

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