Page 48 of Rage

The world explodes into chaos.

A sharp crack splits the air, followed by the sickening thud of a bullet embedding itself in the wooden siding of the clubhouse.Splinters spray outward, stinging my cheek.

“Get down!”Mason roars, tackling me to the ground.His body covers mine, a human shield against the hail of gunfire.

The gravel bites into my palms as I hit the ground hard.The air rushes from my lungs on impact.Mason’s weight presses me down, his heartbeat thundering against my back.The acrid scent of gunpowder fills my nostrils.

More shots ring out in rapid succession.The air buzzes with lethal projectiles.Bullets ping off metal and shatter glass.The windshield of a nearby bike explodes in a shower of crystalline shards.

“Stay down!”Dad bellows from somewhere to my left.I hear the distinctive click of a gun being cocked, then the booming retort of return fire.

The parking lot erupts into a war zone.Engines roar to life as bikers scramble for cover.Tires squeal against asphalt.Shouts and curses mingle with the deafening gunfire.

Mason’s lips brush my ear, his voice low and urgent.“When I say go, we run for the clubhouse.You ready?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.My entire body trembles, adrenaline surging through my veins.

“Now!”

Mason hauls me to my feet.We sprint across the open space, bullets kicking up gravel at our heels.My bare feet slap against the pavement, each step jarring my aching body.

We’re halfway to safety when a searing pain explodes in my left calf.My leg buckles beneath me.I cry out, stumbling.

Mason doesn’t miss a beat.He scoops me into his arms without breaking stride, cradling me against his chest as he races for the door.

We hurry through the entrance, Mason’s momentum carrying us several steps into the clubhouse before he sets me down.The heavy oak door slams shut behind us, muffling the chaos outside.

“Meadow!”Mason’s hands roam over me, checking for injuries.His face is pale, eyes wild with fear and rage.“Where are you hit?”

“My leg,” I gasp, the pain finally registering fully.“It’s not bad, I don’t think.”

Mason drops to his knees, examining the wound.Blood seeps through my jeans, staining the denim a dark crimson.

“Graze,” he mutters, relief evident in his voice.“Missed the artery.You’re gonna be okay.”

As the adrenaline fades, the reality of the situation crashes over me.Tears spring to my eyes, hot and stinging.“Oh God,” I choke out.

The words tear from my throat, raw and desperate.“Everyone I care about is going to get hurt.”My body shakes, each sob racking my frame.The metallic tang of blood fills my nostrils.

Mason’s hands cup my face, forcing me to meet his gaze.His eyes blaze with an intensity that steals my breath.“Listen to me, Meadow.No one else is getting hurt.You hear me?No one.”

But the images flash through my mind, relentless.Sarah’s terrified face.The shattered windshield.The gravel kicking up around us as we ran.

“You can’t promise that,” I choke out.My fingers dig into his arms, seeking an anchor.“Peterson, he?—”

“Fuck Peterson.”His thumb brushes away a tear, the gentleness at odds with the fury in his voice.“That bastard’s days are numbered.We’ll find him, and we’ll end this?—”

A commotion at the door cuts him off.Dad runs in, his face etched with worry and rage.“Meadow!Are you—” His eyes land on my bloodied leg, and his expression darkens.“Son of a bitch.”

He strides over, dropping to his knees beside us.His calloused hand grips mine, squeezing tight.

Over his shoulder, my eyes go to Reid holding his arm with blood running down the length of it, his mother screaming at the sight of her son bleeding.

Elle, who is pregnant, holds her stomach, her eyes wide while taking in the chaos.

I snap into doctor mode, pushing aside my own pain and fear.“Reid,” I call out, my voice steadier than I feel.“Let me see that arm.”

Mason starts to protest, but I silence him with a look.“I’m fine.It’s just a graze.Reid needs help.”

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