Page 98 of Ruger's Rage

We hesitate, torn between fleeing to safety and returning to help.

The decision is made for us when headlights appear at the base of the ravine, vehicles grinding up the rough terrain toward us.

"Marco sent men to cover all exits," I guess, pulling Kinsey behind a fallen tree. "He knew about the escape tunnels."

"How?" she whispers.

"Striker. Fuck!"

The gunfire at the cabin intensifies.

Through the trees, I can make out new vehicles arriving—motorcycles, their familiar rumble cutting through the night.

The club is here, but are they in time?

I look down at the gun in my hand, then back toward the cabin where Sarah and Ellie might still be alive.

"I'm going back," I decide.

"That's suicide," Kinsey objects.

"I'm done running from Marco." I refuse to be that sad, pathetic girl anymore. "It ends tonight, one way or another."

She studies me for a long moment before nodding. "Then I'm coming with you."

The girls.

Fuck…

Wrenleigh is terrified, but Sadie Jo is shaking wildly, terrified.

I glance around, looking around for anything, that’s when I see it—we could hoist them up in the trees, and if they climb up a little ways, the pine will cover them.

“Girls, I need you both to do something for me right now. I know you’re being brave, but…Kinsey and I are going to help your dad and the rest of the brothers. We’re gonna get on our backs, and then hoist you up in that tree.” I point to the specific pine tree I think is concealed enough. “You’re going to take my phone, and then stay there until we come get you—when this is all over.”

I hand my phone to Wrenleigh, and Kinsey gets Sadie Jo up in the tree.

It’s only a matter of minutes when the girls are both up, both safe, “Climb up two or three limbs, stay quiet, and do not come down unless it’s one of the club members.”

Wrenleigh gives me a nod. “Be careful.”

“I will, sweetheart.”

Kinsey and I head back up toward the cabin, using trees for cover.

The gunfire has died down, replaced by shouts and the occasional single shot.

We're halfway there when a figure emerges from the trees above us—tall, built like a mountain, and I know exactly who it is—Ruger.

Relief crashes through me so powerfully my knees nearly buckle.

He hasn't seen us yet, his attention focused on the cabin ahead.

"Ruger!" I call, keeping my voice low enough not to carry beyond him.

He whips around, gun raised, then freezes when he recognizes me.

In three long strides, he's beside me, pulling me against his chest so tightly I can barely breathe.

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