Page 129 of Savior

Behind her was the cop who’d been at Dakota’s wedding. The same man who’d later turned up on the hospital’s surveillance tapes.

“Very clever having her hide up there. It wasn’t easy to take her down; I had to put everything into it.” He touched his jaw.

Michael growled, and I knew he would’ve put the cop down were it not for the army of bikers directly behind him.

Dakota was shoved through the door next, seemingly uninjured, and eyes filled with murderous rage. “You chose the wrong side, Doucheface.”

A biker dragged her into the middle of the room, kicking Angel’s body toward the corner before binding Dakota’s wrists behind her back. Her nostrils flared, and tears spilled over onto her cheeks, before she matter-of-factly stated, “You’ll die for that.”

I watched in horror as my friends were led in at gunpoint, the blood turning to ice in my veins. When the cop slammed the door behind Carnage, I looked to Lauren in confusion. Nate and Garrett weren’t with them.

Right now, they were our only hope of making it out of this alive.

One by one, their hands were bound behind their backs before they were forced into a straight line against one of the walls.

This wasn’t a parley.

It was an execution.

“Let them go.” I raised my shaking hands. “I’ll stay to meet with Saint. Just let them go. Please.”

The cop shook his head with a laugh. “I’d be more willing to believe you if your funny guy here wasn’t pointing a gun at me.”

“Michael,” I said softly, placing my hand on his arm. “Please. We have to keep them safe.”

If you must decide between me and the child, do not hesitate: choose the child.

“Son’s don’t negotiate, Celia,” he growled. “They ain’t lettin’ any of us leave.”

“He’s right, I’m afraid.”

I knew that voice.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come. Thought you and your little girl gang would’ve gone south with the men.” She pushed the back door closed and surveyed the small room with a grin.

“Betsy?” Michael asked, lowering his gun. “The fuck?”

“You know…” she tapped a finger against her chin with a vicious smirk. “I could’ve sworn you would’ve killed him by now, Celia. Never mind. I’ll do it myself.”

I watched her hand as she flicked her wrist, not realizing it was a signal until I heard the loud pop. Michael stumbled back, and the cop lowered his gun like a well-trained dog.

Blood began to pump from the wound on his chest, and he swiped his fingers through it before looking up at me in shock. “Celia?”

I stripped off my flannel jacket and dropped to my knees. “It’s okay. You’re going to be alright.” I could feel his pulse through the material. He was losing too much blood.

“Let her take care of you now, Michael. Isn’t this what you always wanted? Grey’s girl, down on her knees in front of you?” Betsy taunted.

“You’re Saint.” It was no longer a question.

“How long did that take you, Celia? You really thought this dumbass was behind it all?” She jerked her thumb to where her husband lay, bleeding out.

Michael reached up and gripped my hand, keeping pressure on the wound. “You?”

“You can’t imagine the kind of planning that went into this, and yet you were so quick to give credit to a man whose concerns revolve around his next high and his next fuck.”

I watched warily as she circled the room, eyeing the people I loved as if they were outfits she was considering trying on.

“You got me here. Let them go. I’m the one you want.”

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