Page 72 of Ravaged and Ruined
I drag myself toward them, each movement lighting fire through my side. My hands are wet with blood. Lacey rushes to me, drops to her knees, her arms catching me before I hit the floor completely.
“I’m here,” she says, breathless. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
“I told you…” I rasp, pressing my forehead to hers. “I told you I’d get you out.”
“You did,” she whispers, brushing blood-slick hair off my face.
Around us, the gunfire dies down. The battle’s ending.
Sophia doesn’t move again.
Lacey clutches me tighter. “I love you, Jaxson Stone.”
“I love you, Bambola.” I lower my face, pressing a kiss to Lacey’s belly, “and I love you, Pulcino.”
The door bursts open behind us, boots pounding, voices shouting. My brothers flood the room like a damn storm. Relief crashes through me like a wave, but it’s short-lived. My knees threaten to buckle. Lacey holds tight as I stagger forward, one hand on her back, the other pressed tight to the wound at my ribs.
I find the nearest support beam and lean hard against it, my breath ragged. The wood’s rough against my palm, but it holds me up.
Padre rushes to help, his jaw tight as he tears open a pressure bandage. “Hold still, Prez.”
The taste of blood is still sharp on my tongue. My cut’s soaked through. The bullet tore clean, but I’ve lost a lot of blood and every breath feels like it’s lined with razors.
Lacey hasn’t left my side. She’s crouched beside me, one hand clamped around mine. Her shirt is stained with blood. Some of it hers, most of it not. Her knuckles are scraped raw. There’s a gash across her arm that I keep glancing at it like I can somehow undo it.
Across the warehouse, the cleanup has begun. Garett’s body is a twisted mess near one of the fallen beams. Sophia lies where she dropped. Blood soaking into the cracks of the wooden floor beneath her, her eyes frozen open in disbelief.
There’s dead silence now, except for the low murmur of voices, the creak of boots on the boards, and the occasional crackle of a dying fire from the explosions.
Hashtag stands a few feet away, face pale behind his glasses. I wave him over.
“I hear we have you to thank for this.”
Hashtag steps over the rubble, a satisfied glint in his eye. “It was nothing, Prez.”
I chuckle even though it hurts. “I doubt that, kid.”
He shrugs offering up the details. “I knew something was wrong when your phone went dark. Figured maybe it was off, until Lacey’s stopped pinging too.” I let him continue. “Backtracked her last signal. One tower hit off the highway. Checked nearby traffic cams, found footage at a gas station. Saw that black Ford roll up on you. Ran the plate. It was registered to a Ricci front. Cross-checked Ricci holdings. Found this place tucked under a dummy corp. We rolled as soon as I had it confirmed.”
I nod once, the weight of it all crashing down. “You did good.”
He shakes his head like he’s still processing it. “Did what had to be done, Prez. Wasn’t gonna lose you.”
“Thank you.” Lacey whispers as Hashtag starts to walk away.
“Oh.” Hashtag says, pulling something from his pocket and tosses it back. I reach up with a wince, catching it one-handed. The weight of my keys familiar in my hand.
“Figured you’d want your bike back once the dust settled,” he says. “It’s outside. When you’re ready to get the hell outta here.”
Hashtag leaves us alone again. Lacey brushes her thumb along the back of my hand. “You could have died.”
“But I didn’t.” My voice is a rough whisper, but it gets a hint of a smile from her.
Grizzly drops to a crouch in front of us, his beard streaked with soot. “We’re clear. What’s left of the Ricci family is in a pool of blood.”
“Except for Antonio.”
Lacey shifts closer, pressing her forehead to my temple. “It’s not over is it?”
