Page 60 of Diesel
Blade shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear the horrors from his mind. “This is… this is fucked up.”
Nic still hasn’t moved. I’m not even sure he’s seeing anything but the blood he’s going to spill in the name of the dead anymore.
“You want to know if I’m ready to lead?” he asks, finally lifting his head to meet Ravage’s eyes. “I’m done playing games. He’s done.” His gaze slides to me, then Blade, Riot, Mace and finally Riley. “Follow me, or don’t. I don’t care. You’re either with me or you’re not, but if you’re not get the fuck out of my way.” His jaw flexes. “Because I swear on every single man who fell here today that I’m going to avenge them.”
A wet cough rips through the silence.
I whip around, reaching for my knife, but it’s not a threat. A body I stepped over, thinking him gone, is convulsing, blood on his lips, bubbling. Fury moves, grabbing his head and turning him onto his side. He sucks in air like he’s drowning on land. He should be dead. The redstaining his shirt looks fatal, but he’s not. He’s breathing, just barely.
His eyes flutter and open half-mast, locking on me.
And I see the relief in them for a second before he coughs again.
King.
NINETEEN
MAKENNA
I bounce my leg,trying to settle the nervousness swirling inside me. They’re still not back. It’s been hours and my stomach is doing that slow, nauseating churn it seems to have mastered in the last few weeks.
What if something has gone wrong?
I shut that thought down savagely. Nope. I amnotgoing there. Zane is going to walk back through that door, give me that look that says everything even though his face doesn’t move, and then kiss me like I’m the breath in his lungs.
Nothing else is an option.
My gaze drifts to the door, willing it to open, but it doesn’t.
“He’ll come back.”
I turn to Dash. Dayna brought him down an hour ago. He’s propped on the couch like a Regency heroine, swaddled in blankets and swallowed by pillows. I’m not sure he should be out of bed. He looks like death. His skin is grey beneath the tattoos inked into his skin.
“He better,” I mutter.
Dayna leans her head on his shoulder. Her fingers are threaded through his, like he’s her life raft. “He will. They all will.”
The baby squalls against Maylie’s chest and she rocks him a little, trying to settle him back down. I can’t imagine how terrified she must be feeling.
“Well, I wish they’d hurry up,” Ivy says what we’re all thinking.
My gaze drifts to the tank of a man standing in the window. He’s from Manchester and looks terrifying. Dash told us his name is Terror, and I can believe it. He hasn’t moved from his position and that makes me nervous in a way I can’t describe.
Are they expecting us to get hit?
Dash rests his hand on Dayna’s stomach, the small swell of her belly barely there under her sweater.
“You should get back in bed,” Dayna says. “You’re held together with stitches and a prayer.”
“I’m good here,” he assures her, kissing the side of her head.
I snort a laugh, and everyone looks at me. “Sorry.” I wince. “It’s comforting to know that it’s not just Zane who’s stubborn as hell and doesn’t listen to anything I say.”
Dayna laughs, cutting through the tension like a knife. “None of these men listen. I think the moment they get their kuttes they forget how their ears work.”
“My ears work fine,” Terror mutters, deadpan. It’s the first words he’s said in about an hour.
Dash smothers a grin. “You want to talk about stubborn? You girls don’t listen either.”
