Page 18 of Reaper

“Run, Ace!” My scream is a raw burst of terror, slicing through the stillness of the night. I push my body through the small escape route before dropping to the ground.

“Mommy!” His cry is too close. He isn’t running.

As I tumble into the darkness outside, I land on my hands and knees. Scrambling forward, I race toward where Ace is standing. Disoriented and exposed, I frantically prepare to fight, flee, or do whatever it takes to protect my boy.

Behind me, a man’s angry voice shouts, “The bitch and the kid are around back. Cut them off.”

Running at full speed, I grab Ace and toss him over my shoulder. We’re halfway to the woods when two men wearing that rival club’s cuts block our path.

“No,” I whisper, backing up a step.

Looking behind me, I realize I’m doomed. The man from inside the motel room is running toward us. We’re outnumbered and outgunned. There’s no way we’re getting out of this alive.

Chapter 7: Reaper

As bullets ricochet off the makeshift barricade I’m tucked behind, hot lead shatters the wooden pallets. Splinters of wood rain down, tangling in my hair. My heart hammers as chaos erupts around me. The tower of wooden pallets behind the bar and grill is my only cover from the hailstorm of lead being unleashed by the Demon Riders. A splinter of wood nicks my cheek as another round pierces our defenses. They’ve got us outgunned, but I’ll be damned if I let them take us down without a fight.

I peer through a gap between the boards, squinting to catch sight of my attackers. There’s no time to wonder why they’ve come after us now. The silence of the past weeks was a deceitful lull. Scar always says, “Keep your friends close, and your enemies under a goddamn microscope.” His words echo in my mind as I spot an opening and squeeze the trigger.

Pop!

Pop!

Two bodies slump to the ground. A fleeting sense of grim satisfaction courses through me. But it’s short-lived. We need backup, and we need it five minutes ago.

The rumble of salvation approaches. Scar, Nitro, Matrix, and Talon’s engines growl like caged beasts itching for a brawl. It’s music to my ears. They ride into the fray with hellbent fury. Their arrival shifts the tide. Like the four horsemen, they bring retribution. Their bikes carve paths of destruction through our assailants.

“Reaper!” Scar’s voice cuts through the gunfire, a beacon of command and control. He’s already off his bike, laying down suppressive fire. Nitro and Talon flank him, moving with lethal precision. Matrix stays on his bike, circling like a vulture, picking off anyone stupid enough to expose themselves.

I join the dance of death, stepping from my shelter to stand with my brothers. Together, we’re an unstoppable force. The enemy’s resolve crumbles under our combined might, their numbers dwindling as they scramble to retreat.

When the last Demon Rider tears out of the parking lot, I spot Tucker. He’s walking toward me from the front of the bar. “You good?”

“Yeah! Check the prospects. Did anyone get shot?” I yell, scanning the area for our own.

Three prospects huddle near the backentrance, wide-eyed but alive. One clutches his arm, blood seeping through his fingers. He’s young, too damn young to understand the price of the patch yet, but he’s smart. If he can fight like that every time, he’s going to make a good brother. He just needs a few more years of experience first.

“Bullet graze,” he grits out when I reach him.

I nod, assessing the wound with a critical eye.

“Tucker, get Doc on the line. Now!” I bark, knowing Doc will patch him up good as new. Loyalty means taking care of your own. Tucker grabs his phone with steady hands. He’s been in enough fights now that he’s not afraid anymore. The kid’s got balls of steel. I’d like to see him patched in before the summer’s up.

“Got it, Reaper,” he says, dialing Doc’s number. That’s what this life breeds—courage forged in the fires of adversity. We’re more than a club. He gets it. Once he’s patched in, he’ll become an integral part of the family. That’s the shit I like to see around here.

“You good?” Scar asks, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

“Always,” I reply, my gaze lingering on the fleeing backs of our enemies. “We’re gonna need answers, though.”

Scar nods, his expression grim as stone. “We’ll get ‘em.”

“I need to check on Lexi and Ace.”

“Go. I’ll make sure everyone’s squared up out here.”

“Thanks, pres.”

I jog back into the clubhouse. My boots thud against the hardwood floor as I head toward their room.

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