Page 87 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

“Are you going to be able to ride?” Vance asks. I glare at him.

“There’s no way I’m leaving my bike.”

Hawk and Vance move quickly, helping me get secured on the bike. Izzy climbs onto the back of Hawk’s bike, her arms wrapped tightly around him, her face pale but determined.

“Ready?” Vance asks, his eyes flicking to me with concern.

“Yeah,” I grunt, my voice strained. “Let’s get out of here.”

21

IZZY

The roar of Hawk's bike drowns out my thoughts, the wind whipping against my face as we tear through the night. I cling tightly to him, my arms wrapped around his solid frame.

Is Laina safe? And Tank... oh God, Tank.

Hawk maneuvers the bike expertly through the winding roads, but every bump and swerve makes my heart leap with fear for Tank. The image of him clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers, is seared into my mind. I squeeze Hawk tighter, as if trying to draw strength from him, hoping it will somehow transfer to Tank.

The journey feels endless, each passing minute stretching my nerves thinner. The rain has stopped, but the air is still heavy with moisture.

Finally, the hideout comes into view.

Hawk helps me off the bike, his hands steadying me as my legs wobble from the ride.

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking my face into his hands, his voice a grounding force.

“I’m fine,” I say with a tight voice.

“Let’s get inside.”

The interior is dimly lit, the air cool and slightly musty. Hawk and Vance help Tank to the couch, lowering him gently onto the worn cushions.

“We need to clean it,” I say, my voice trembling as I kneel beside Tank. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

“Do your worst,” Tank replies, trying to give me a reassuring smile despite the pain etched across his face. Tank winces as he leans back on the couch, his breathing shallow and labored. I kneel beside him, my hands trembling as I open the first aid kit.

“Okay, Tank,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Hey. I’ll talk you through the whole process, okay?” he says. “Sometimes you all forget I was special ops. First, you need to clean the wound. Use the antiseptic wipes. It’s gonna sting like hell, but it has to be done.”

I grab the antiseptic wipes, my fingers fumbling as I tear one open. “Alright, here goes.”

“Gently, Izzy,” Tank instructs, his voice surprisingly calm. “Wipe around the wound first, then over it. Make sure it’s clean.”

Tank hisses through his teeth, his body tensing, but he doesn’t complain.

“Now, you need to get the bullet out. There are tweezers in the kit.”

I swallow hard, my heart pounding even faster. “Okay.”

“Just take it slow,” Tank says, his voice a bit strained but steady. “You’re gonna do fine.”

I take the tweezers out, my hands trembling even more. “Alright, here goes nothing.”

“First, feel for the bullet with your fingers,” Tank instructs. “You need to know where it is.”

I gently press around the wound, feeling for the hard lump of the bullet. Tank winces, but he nods when I find it. “Got it,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

---