Page 115 of Manic

Blood trickles down to my fingertips, warm and sticky.

The ride back to the clubhouse is a blur of adrenaline and stinging pain.

My mind races, replaying the botched raid.

We were so close.

So damn close to ending this once and for all.

As we pull into the clubhouse parking lot, I can't help but think of Meghan.

How am I going to explain this to her?

She's been through so much already because of her bastard of a father.

We file into the clubhouse, the air thick with tension and the smell of gunpowder.

My arm throbs, a constant reminder of our failure. I clench my jaw, determined not to show weakness in front of the others.

But as the adrenaline fades, I can't help but wonder: What's our next move?

How long can we keep playing this dangerous game before someone gets killed?

I push open the heavy door of the clubhouse.

The pain in my arm is a dull roar now, blood still seeping through my fingers as I try to stem the flow.

Fern's eyes widen as she spots me. "Jesus Christ, Tor! Gwen, Vail, we need one of you stat!"

I wave her off with my good arm. "It's not as bad as it looks, Fern. Just a scratch."

But Fern's already in motion, her voice echoing through the clubhouse.

Vail emerges from the back, med kit in hand, making a beeline for me.

Meghan's voice carries from the kitchen, worry evident in her tone. "What's going on?"

Before I can respond, Tindra's panicked voice cuts through the air. "Dad, did you get shot!?"

Shit.

I didn't want her to see this.

I open my mouth to reassure her, but I'm cut short by the sight of Meghan bursting out of the kitchen.

She's a vision in her Beans and Babes uniform—those high-cut shorts showing off her long legs, the crop top hugging her curves in all the right places.

But it's the fear in her eyes that captures my attention.

"What the hell happened?" she demands, rushing toward me.

Her hands, still damp from whatever she was doing in the kitchen, reach for my injured arm.

I wince, both from the pain and the knowledge that I've worried her again. "It's nothing, babe. Just a little misunderstanding with some unfriendly folks."

Meghan's eyes narrow, not buying my casual tone for a second. "A little misunderstanding that ended with you getting shot? Torsten, I swear to God..."

I can see the mix of anger and concern warring on her face, and guilt twists in my gut.

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