Page 22 of Savage Obsession
Another thud and a blossom of orange light lights the night up. Heat slaps the window. Venom shoves me behind him as flames spider up the side of the cabin and lick hungrily at the eaves.
“Move!” Reaper barks. Guns appear from everywhere. Savages made for war shrug on their true skins.
I reach for the front door, bedsheet and all, but Venom blocks me with a wall of muscle and commands, “No. You stay low.” He grips my shoulders, eyes drilling into mine. “Back bedroom. Get some clothes on. Anything warm. Then head out the back. Follow the path around the edge of the property. You’ll find it easily enough. Move fast, stay low and quiet. It leads to the main house.”
“What do I say when a hundred angry bikers put me in their sights the second I step on their front porch?” My voice shakes.
“Tell them Venom sent you,” he says. “Password is ‘coffee beans.’ Arabelle will know.”
“Coffee beans,” I repeat, committing every syllable to my memory. He presses his forehead to mine for the quickest heartbeat of shelter in the storm, then pushes me toward the hall.
Another Molotov screams against the Cabin’s outside wall. The glass belches heat. Fire licks around the edge of the busted out window and consumes the curtains, greedy and bright. Smoke claws my throat.
I run.
In the bedroom, I yank on the first clothes my shaking hands find. Venom’s thermal, a pair of sweatpants I have to roll twice, thick socks. I jam my feet into his boots. They’re like damn boats on me, but I don’t care. I grab the nearest hoodie, shove my hair inside, and shoulder through the back door into a world of firelight and snow.
The path is a black ribbon through white, tree-shadows loom over head tall and clawing. Bullets crack the air. Men shout. Somewhere behind me, the cabin that briefly felt like a haven screams as flames take the roof.
My sanctuary is gone.
7
WILLOW
The second Willow slips out the back door, the night inhales and bares its teeth.
Monster to monster.
I palm my weapons, breathe out and me and my brothers move.
We are out the front door and move low and fast.
Biting cold hits like a fist to the face, but we don’t slow down. The yard is a light show of orange from the burning wall, white from the storm, and black from the tree line where the real danger lives.
Bullets fly in our direction and bark from trees older than I am. Chips fly in all directions. The old pines groan as a gust of wind moves overhead, carrying the metallic stink of fresh blood.
We fan out as one.
“Left flank!” Reaper barks, already cutting right, Beast on his shoulder like a moving wall. Ash slides low, gun up. Cipher ghosts to the shed and vanishes. Storm plants at the corner of the cabin, stance textbook, and lays down the kind of fire thatkeeps me covered as I find the shadows for a second time tonight and do what I do best.
I pull the trigger.
Once. Twice. As many Vultures pitch face-first into the snow with the sound of finality. Another takes a round in the shoulder and spins, mouth open, dark blood misting the night like a bad prayer.
The storm is a living thing. White knives of cold slice through the air and I feel like I’m fighting on two fronts. Everyone is dropping Vulture crew members where they stand for crossing into our territory. But it’s more than that, we are all fighting to protect the innocent woman who found her way to me.
Willow deserves to have a fighting chance at happiness.
I love her.
The thought lands mid-step, bright and absolute. And frankly it fucking terrifies me to the core. I feel it to the core of my being and I know I will die to save her. I will kill every last one of these fuckers and stain my soul all to save her. I never thought he would love again and I am killing for it. What a tricky fucking monster love is.
A bottle sails toward us.
“Incoming!” Storm’s shout breaks me out of thought. I pivot just in time to see the Molotov break against the wall of my cabin. Fuck. My jaw clenches tight. Screw it. It doesn’t matter. Nothing will save it but I’m more focused on finding the fucker that started all this chaos.
From my peripheral, I catch movement just off to my left. Two shadows. One trying to move undetected between the trees.I slide behind the old cypress, and when their muzzles angle toward my president, I step out.
