Page 86 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

“We’ll see about that,” Hawk replies, his voice dangerously calm. “You think we’re just going to let you walk away with this?”

Reynolds laughs, a cruel, mocking sound. “What are you going to do? Kill me? You’ll be hunted down like dogs. And Gunnar here will testify against you.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Hawk growls. “You’re not walking out of here.”

The tension snaps like a wire pulled too tight. Gunnar raises his gun, but Hawk is faster. He lunges forward, knocking the gun from Gunnar’s hand with a swift strike. The weapon clatters to the ground, and chaos erupts.

I rush towards Reynolds, my heart pounding. He tries to pull a knife from his belt, but I slam into him, sending us both crashing to the ground. We grapple, each trying to gain the upper hand. Reynolds lands a punch to my jaw, pain exploding across my face, but I ignore it, focusing on disarming him.

Hawk and Gunnar are locked in a fierce struggle, their movements a blur of raw power. Hawk’s fist connects with Gunnar’s face, sending him reeling. Gunnar recovers quickly, lunging at Hawk with a snarl.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vance burst into the room, drenched from the rain but looking every bit the fierce warrior he is. He charges at Gunnar, tackling him to the ground. The three of us move in unison, our actions coordinated by years of fighting side by side.

But just as I gain the upper hand on Reynolds, he manages to free a hidden gun. Before I can react, he pulls the trigger, and a searing pain erupts in my side. I stagger, clutching my ribs, the world tilting around me.

“Tank!”Hawk’s voice is sharp with panic as he breaks free from Gunnar’s grip and rushes to my side.

Reynolds takes advantage of the chaos, scrambling to his feet and making a run for it. Vance moves to follow, but I grab his arm, my grip weak but insistent.

“Go after him,” I blurt out through grit teeth. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Tank,” Vance snaps, his eyes flicking between me and the retreating figure of Reynolds.

Hawk presses down on my wound, his face etched with worry. “We need to get you out of here.”

I shake my head, the pain making it hard to focus. “No, get him. He can’t get away.”

Vance hesitates, but then he nods, understanding the urgency. “I’ll get him,” he says, his voice filled with determination. “Stay with Hawk.”

He takes off after Reynolds, leaving me and Hawk in the dimly lit room. Hawk tears off a piece of his shirt, pressing it against my wound to stem the bleeding.

“You’re not dying on me,” Hawk mutters, his voice a mix of anger and fear. “Not today.”

I manage a weak grin, trying to lighten the mood despite the pain. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Not the first time I’ve been been shot.” I glance over at Izzy, who's crying and squirming. “Help her. I’m fine. I promise.”

Hawk looks torn for a moment but then nods, realizing the urgency. “Hang in there, Tank.” He moves quickly to untie Izzy, her sobs filling the room as she’s freed from the chair.

“Tank, oh my God,” she cries, rushing to my side as soon as her bonds are removed. Her hands hover over my wound, her eyes wide with fear and concern.

“I’m okay, Izzy,” I manage to say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just a scratch.”

She gives me a watery smile, but the fear in her eyes doesn’t diminish. Hawk finishes untying her and turns his attention back to me, checking the makeshift bandage he’s pressed against my side.

“We need to get you out of here,” Hawk says, his voice firm. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” I grunt, pushing through the pain. “Let’s go.”

Just as Hawk and Izzy help me to my feet, Vance bursts back into the room, his expression dark and frustrated. “He got away,” he says, anger lacing his words. “Slipped through a side tunnel before I could get to him.”

Hawk swears under his breath, his grip tightening on my arm. “We’ll deal with him later. Right now, we need to get Tank somewhere safe. I refuse to let Reynolds take another one of my men.”

Hawk effortlessly lifts Izzy into his arms, her small frame cradled protectively against his chest.

We make our way out of the tunnel, each step sending a jolt of pain through my body. Vance supports me as we go.

“We’ll get you to the hideout first,” Hawk says, his voice steady. “We have supplies there. We can patch you up there.”

I nod, too exhausted to argue. I rummage through the pack on my bike pulling out my first aid kit, ripping gauze off with my teeth and Vance helps wrap it around my side where the damn bullet is lodged.

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