Page 36 of Ravaged and Ruined
Rancor steps in, lifting one of the women like she weighs nothing. “On it.”
Grizzly doesn’t argue. Neither does Padre. No one does.
Because this is who we are. Bastards, maybe. But not monsters.
Suddenly, headlights pierce the darkness from over the water. Speedboats roar into the port less than one hundred feet from us. For a split second, panic sets in but then I see the patches: Royal Bastards MC, Philadelphia chapter.
Cable, their president, jumps out first. His eyes lock onto mine, a silent understanding passing between us.
“Need a hand?” he asks, already moving toward the van.
“Yeah,” I nod, relief washing over me. “We’ve got unexpected cargo.”
He raises an eyebrow as he spots the women, but doesn’t question it. His crew fans out, providing cover. I feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll make it out of this.
Gunfire erupts from the far end of the port. More guards, drawn by the explosion, are closing in.
“Hold them off while we get everyone out!” I order.
Bullets whiz past us, pinging off metal containers. The air is thick with smoke, screams, and the acrid scent of burning fuel.
Crank and Rancor are already loading the last of the crates into the van. Padre gently guides the women, their faces pale and eyes wide with terror, toward the vehicle. Grizzly covers our six, his weapon trained on the chaos unfolding around us.
Backdraft appears beside me, a manic grin on his face. “Got another surprise if you need it.”
“Do it,” I say, giving the order without hesitation. My gaze flicks toward the chaos unraveling in the distance. “My guy’s clearing you a path to make your exit.”
Cable nods. “Didn’t know what the hell we were getting into when we heard the blast. Shook the whole damn river. When we hacked into the security feed and saw it was your crew, we hauled ass.”
“Good thing you did.” I grip his hand, firm. “We’d have been fucked six ways to Sunday if you hadn’t.”
He drops his arm. “Get those girls out. We’ll run interference.”
“Appreciate it, brother. Ride safe.”
Moments later, another explosion rocks the other end of the port, sending a shockwave through the ground.
“Go!” I shout to the others. “Now!”
The vans peel out, tires screeching. Cable and his crew provide cover as our chapters retreat in opposite directions, the port a blazing inferno behind us.
“Hashtag, get me a line to Quinn. Now.”
Chapter Fifteen
Aero
The smell of burning diesel and sulfur still clings to my clothes when we roll into the safe zone. A cabin on the edge of the Pines. It’s off the grid, no cameras, no nosey neighbors. Jameson had given me the location when I formed the chapter but we’ve never had a reason to use it until now.
The small cabin sits half swallowed by the Pines. Its paint stripped down to a weathered gray, the roof sagging, a rotting porch wrapped around the front. A single bulb flickers beside the door like it’s not sure if it should bother. It doesn’t matter. We need cover, not comfort and this place is forgotten enough to give us both.
There’s one way in and one way out. No street lamps. No traffic. Just woods thick enough to muffle screams and bury secrets. It’s the kind of place you stash shit you don’t want found… guns, bodies. And right now, it’s where we hole up, waiting for the storm we just kicked up to find us or pass us by.
We park the bikes in a patch of dead brush beside the cabin. No unnecessary chatter. Just the dull thunk of boots on theforest floor and the heavy breath of men coming down off the high of survival.
Hashtag hops off his bike, phone already in hand. “Security cams won’t be a problem. I looped the last four hours. No one saw us go in. No one saw us come out.”
“You sure?” I ask, watching his eyes.
