Page 69 of Iron Fist

“Rogue!” One of the Lords — Mal — appears over Brody’s shoulder. He lets out a low whistle when he sees me. “Jesus, girl. You don’t look so hot.” His gaze shifts to Brody. “We got the women secured. One of ‘em is Sassy.”

“The other one is Wrecker’s old lady,” I choke out. “They were going to make me pay for what happened at the pig roast.”

“Fuck,” Brody hisses. “Is the car drivable?”

“Just about,” Mal nods. “We shot a couple’a bullets in the driver’s side, but nothing major.”

“Take care of them,” Brody directs. “I need to get Rory some help.”

“No problem, brother. Consider it done.”

Mal turns away, and I follow him with my eyes as he approaches two other Lords. They’re standing over the men on the ground, who are not moving.

My stomach lurches.

“You’re hurt bad, Rory,” Brody says, his voice strained. “Bad enough that our MC’s doc can’t fix you up enough. We’re gonna get you to a hospital, baby, okay?”

I want to argue, to tell him I’m fine. But the look in his eyes stops me.

Brody reaches up to stroke my cheek. When he takes his hand away, there’s blood his fingers. “What happened to your face?”

“She…” I pant. “Wrecker’s woman cut me. She said she was going to make it so no man would look at me again.”

The flash of pure rage in Brody’s eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. “Jesus,” he chokes. “Jesus.”

“I jumped out of the trunk when the car was still moving,” I continue. “I tried to wait until I could tell we were going slow. I didn’t know where we were, but I had to try.” I’m starting to babble. “I didn’t know what else to do, Brody, I couldn’t…”

“Sshhhh…” He pulls me to him, kissing my forehead. “It’s okay. It’s over, Rory. It’s over. You did good. I’m here.”

All of a sudden, the enormity of it hits me. “What if you hadn’t gotten here in time?” I whisper, as hot tears start to fall from my eyes. “They would have —” I can’t finish the words.

Brody’s face pales. “We did get here,” he says hoarsely. “We got to you. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe, babe. We’re gonna go get you fixed up.”

Brody scoops me carefully into his arms. He carries me to his truck, and deposits me gently into the passenger seat.

“I gotta go tell the guys something,” he says. “I’ll be right back. You sit tight.”

Brody straps me in, leaning over me to secure the buckle on my seatbelt, then closes the door. I watch as he jogs over to his MC brothers. His voice is too low for me to make out what he’s saying, but his angry gestures convey what the words don’t.

One of the bikers — Matthias — claps him on the back, then glances over at me.

A few seconds later, Brody comes back and climbs into the driver’s side.

“You gonna be able to hold on until we get to the hospital?” he asks me as he starts the engine.

I nod, then wince, because it hurts to move my head. “What’s going to happen to them? What are you going to do to them?”

“That’s none of your business,” Brody growls. Then, glancing at me, his tone softens. “It’s better for you if you don’t know. The important thing is, you’re out of danger. None of them will ever be able to hurt you again.”

“Are the men dead?” I whisper.

Brody doesn’t reply.

“What about your club? Won’t this start a problem? A war? Between you and the Wretched Souls?”

“Don’t you worry about that, either.”

I taste bile at the thought of what I might have started. I start to protest, but Brody cuts me off.

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