Page 140 of Bonds of Obsession

“We need to split up!” Atlas calls out. “Draw their fire in different directions!”

My heart seizes. No. We can’t separate. But before I can protest, Nico shakes his head. “Stay together!” he shouts. “We’re stronger together!”

I squeeze off another shot at the cars behind us, but the angle is bad and I waste the bullet. Fuck. We’re running out of options, and I’m running out of ammo.

The river appears on our right again as we emerge from the buildings and join up with Killian once more. Moonlight glints off the dark water, and I catch glimpses of our reflections as we race along the waterfront. Four shadows on bikes, being chased by demons in cars.

A fresh burst of gunfire whizzes past. Something hot grazes my arm—a bullet passing close enough to burn. I hear Killian curse, followed by the horrible sound of rubber tearing apart.

Oh fuck. No.

“Killian!” I scream as his bike fishtails violently, the blown tire sending him into an uncontrollable skid. Time seems to slow as I watch his bike go down, metal skidding against pavement in a shower of sparks.

Killian tucks and rolls as he’s thrown, but he’s moving too fast. His body hits the ground hard and keeps going, tumbling across the concrete like a rag doll. The sight of him lying motionless makes my blood run cold.

“Go back!” I try to wrench the bike around, but Nico’s grip on the handlebars is iron-tight. More bullets zip past us as Ambrose’s men close in.

“We can’t!” Atlas shouts, but I can hear the agony in his voice. He doesn’t want to leave Killian any more than I do.

I struggle against Nico’s control of the bike. “We have to go back! We can’t leave him!” The words tear from my throat, raw and desperate. All I can see is Killian lying there, vulnerable, at Ambrose’s mercy. Just like Atlas was.

But Nico’s voice cuts through my panic, hard as steel. “He’s dead if we all go down! We need to draw them away from him!”

He’s right. God fucking damn it, he’s right. If we go back now, we’ll all be slaughtered. Killian’s only chance is if we can pull Ambrose’s men away from him.

I press my face into Nico’s leather cut, tears burning my eyes as we speed away. The image of Killian’s body hitting the ground plays on repeat in my head. One of my psychopaths. One of my loves. Left behind.

Please, I think, my heart threatening to shatter. Please let him be alive.

43

NICO

“Fuck!”I shout, but there’s no time to stop. Not with Ambrose’s men on our asses and bullets whizzing past our heads. Quinn’s arms tighten around my waist as I gun the engine, and I catch Atlas’s eye as he pulls up beside us. We’ve been riding together long enough that we don’t need words—just a quick nod and we’re executing the plan, breaking off in different directions.

I take a sharp right down a narrow side street while Atlas peels left, both of us leading different clusters of Ambrose’s men on a wild fucking chase through the industrial district. Quinn leans with me as I weave between buildings, the roar of engines behind us growing more distant as we split their forces. Smart money says half of them followed Atlas, leaving just two cars on our tail.

“Now,” Quinn shouts in my ear, and I bank hard into an alley, killing the lights. The pursuing vehicles blow past us in the darkness. Another sharp turn and we’re doubling back, my knuckles white on the throttle as I push the bike to its limits.

We find Killian near the spot where we left him, propped against a wall with his gun drawn. Blood trickles from a gash on his temple, but his eyes are alert as he tracks potential threats. That’s my brother—always the fighter, even when he’s down.

Atlas rolls up ten seconds later, having lost his tail too. We’ve bought ourselves maybe two minutes before those fuckers figure out where we went. Not much time, but it’ll have to be enough to get Killian mobile and find better cover. Because there’s no way in hell I’m leaving one of my own behind.

As it turns out, we don’t have two more minutes.

“Contact, northwest corner!” Atlas barks out. I pivot and squeeze off two rounds, forcing the merc who was trying to flank us to duck back behind cover. These aren’t some amateur thugs—they move with military precision, trying to box us in.

Atlas and I move like we’re sharing one brain, years of watching each other’s backs making us fluid as water. He takes the right angle while I cover left, both of us providing suppressing fire as Quinn helps Killian to his feet. A bullet punches into the brick wall inches from my head, showering me with fragments of masonry.

“I’m good,” Killian grunts, but the way he’s favoring his side tells me differently. Still, now isn’t the time to argue. Quinn already has his arm over her shoulder, supporting his weight as they move toward better cover. My wife is a fucking warrior—she’s got her gun in her free hand, ready to fire even while helping Killian.

“Move!” I command as more vehicles screech around the corner. The sound of gunfire echoes off the buildings, creating a metal storm of death all around us. Atlas and I fall into formation on either side of Quinn and Killian, our bodies creating a shield as we retreat deeper into the maze of alleys.

“My shoulder is fucked,” Killian says through gritted teeth. It’s the kind of injury that would put most men down, but pain has never stopped my brother. Hell, I’ve seen him fight through worse.

Quinn catches my eye and I can see the fury burning there—the same rage I’m feeling. Emmett’s betrayal led us right intothis clusterfuck, and now Killian is hurt because of it. But there’s no time for anger. Not when we’ve got six or seven heavily armed mercenaries trying to turn us into Swiss cheese.

“We need high ground,” Atlas says, his voice tight with tension. He’s right—we’re too exposed down here. And I can hear more engines in the distance. Ambrose is calling in reinforcements. If we don’t find better positioning fast, we’re all dead.

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