Page 92 of Claimed By the Bikers
“Lung?”
“Doesn’t look like it. You’re breathing fine, no pink froth.” He starts packing the wounds with gauze. “You’ll live, but we need to get you proper medical attention.”
“Hospital?”
“Doc Morrison. He’ll handle it quietly.”
The warehouse has gone silent except for our voices and the distant sound of engines starting up.
Atlas appears, still holding his rifle. “What’s his status?”
“He’ll live,” Silas says, wrapping pressure bandages around my chest. “But he needs stitches and blood replacement.”
“Can he travel?”
“Short distance, if we’re careful.”
Atlas keys his radio. “Jake, we need a cleanup at Mountain View. Multiple bodies, and some structural damage. Bring a full crew.”
“Copy that. ETA twenty minutes.”
“What about the beneficiaries?” Ember asks, finally letting someone else handle my wounds while she wipes blood from her hands.
“They all took off.” Atlas moves to the window, checking the perimeter. “We’ll need to move the high-value items to secure storage.”
“How did they find this place?” Silas’s voice carries an edge I recognize. He’s thinking the same thing I am.
“Good question. This location’s been secure for three years. Nobody outside our inner circle knows it exists.”
“Somebody talked.” I push myself up against the wall despite Silas’s protests. “Question is who.”
“We told Finn where we were headed,” Ember says quietly.
“Could be a coincidence,” Atlas says, but his tone suggests he doesn’t believe it.
“Could be. Or could it be our head cook’s been passing information to Los Serpientes for God knows how long.” Silas finishes securing my bandages. “Only one way to find out.”
The ride back to Wolf Pike feels eternal, every bump in the road sending fresh waves of pain through my chest. Ember rides in the back with me, monitoring my condition, while Atlas drives and Silas coordinates cleanup through his radio.
By the time we reach the compound, my shirt’s soaked through again despite the pressure dressings. The blood loss makes me dizzy, but anger keeps me conscious. If Finn betrayed us, if he put Ember and our unborn child at risk for cartel money, I want to be awake when we have that conversation.
The restaurant parking lot looks normal, peaceful even. No signs of violence or disturbance, just the quiet mountain evening settling over our home.
But when we enter through the back door, Finn’s reaction tells us everything we need to know.
He’s cleaning the grill when we walk in, humming some country song under his breath. When he sees us—me bleeding, Ember covered in blood, Atlas and Silas armed and grim—his face goes through a series of expressions too fast to catalog.
Surprise. Concern. Fear. Guilt.
“Jesus, what happened?” he asks, moving toward us with what looks like genuine worry. “Garrett, you’re hurt. Should I call?—”
“Don’t.” Silas’s voice stops him mid-sentence. “Don’t say another word.”
“I don’t understand?—”
“The Mountain View facility was attacked an hour after we left.” Silas steps closer, and Finn backs against the grill. “Funny thing is, you’re the only person we told about our destination.”
“You think I—” Finn’s voice cracks. “You think I called the cartel?”
