Page 114 of Manic

As I try to push through the gunfire, a group of the Patriot's men assume my intentions.

They start to hustle him toward a back exit.

"No, you don't," I growl, raising my gun.

One of the guys turns, aiming at me.

I'm faster, dropping him with a clean shot to the chest.

I roar at the Patriot, desperation and rage fueling me. "Stop, you fucker!"

But more of his men are there, forming a human shield.

I can't get a clear shot without risking hitting one of our own in the crossfire.

My mind races.

We can't let him slip away, not now.

Not after everything he's done to Meghan, to our club, to this town.

The thought of him escaping, of having to look Meghan in the eye and tell her we failed... it's unbearable.

"Dad!" I call out, trying to get Runes' attention. "He's getting away!"

But in the chaos of the firefight, there's no way to coordinate.

I can only watch in frustration as the Patriot is shuffled toward freedom, my chance for justice slipping away with every second.

I take aim, squeezing off another shot.

The bullet whizzes past the Patriot's ear, missing by inches.

Suddenly, a searing pain rips through my arm.

I glance down, seeing blood flooding down my arm.

"Fuck," I mutter, gritting my teeth.

It's just a flesh wound, but Meghan's gonna kick my ass for getting shot again.

Her worried face flashes in my mind, those light sage gray eyes filled with concern.

I push the thought away, refocusing on the chaos around me.

The Patriot's men are scattering, fleeing like rats from a sinking ship.

I spot Vanir across the room, his face contorted with rage.

"Tor!" he shouts over the gunfire. "Where is he?"

"They got him out of here!" I yell back, frustration evident in my voice.

Fenrir's voice booms above the commotion. "Let's fuckin' go before they fuck with our shit! Regroup back home."

We waste no time, rushing out to our bikes and the van.

As I swing my leg over my motorcycle, the pain in my arm intensifies.

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