Page 75 of Thunder

He whirls, kicking the other man in the groin and then kneeing him in the face once he doubles over. Seeing Marcus distracted, Antonio tries to seize on the opportunity. But, like he has some sixth sense, Marcus dodges Antonio’s blow and retaliates with a heavy right hand.

"Told you I’m always careful, Lia," he pants, catching Antonio's arm and twisting it behind him. The mafia enforcer howls in pain, his face contorted with fury. Marcus shows no mercy, driving a punch into Antonio's throat that rips a jagged, wheezing gasp from his bloody mouth and then delivers a knee to his face that finally topples him to the ground.

With their boss down, those of Antonio’s men that are still standing break for the exit.

The room goes quiet, and sensing safety, I pull myself up into the bathroom, my body shaking from a mix of relief and fear. Marcus runs to me and his arms wrap around me, our bodies pressed together in a desperate embrace. His green eyes search mine, his voice ragged and raw as he says, "Are you alright, my love?"

"I'm fine," I assure him, my voice trembling. My fingers brush over the drying blood on his forehead, my heart aching at the sight of his injuries. "But you're hurt. Hold still, let me take care of you."

"You can be a sexy nurse later, Lia," Marcus murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "We have to go. The cops will swarm this place soon. Let's get to my home. We'll be safe there."

With a nod, I follow him out of the bathroom and into the chaos that once was my hotel room. The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder and sweat, the floor littered with shattered glass, splintered wood, and broken men.

"Wait." My voice is resolute. I plant my feet on the bloodstained carpet, unwilling to be dragged away from this place just yet. Marcus raises an eyebrow at me, puzzled. "We have to take Brian with us. He's our key to exposing the Santoro Syndicate.” I pause, my mind racing as I look at Brian, who lies cowering on the floor, shaking, still tied to the toppled-over chair. It’s a miracle he survived, and I intend to take full advantage of that fact. “There’s someone I need to call and have meet us at your house. If I'm right, this could put an end to the Santoro Syndicate’s reign of terror once and for all."

As we leave the battlefield that was once my hotel room, Marcus throws a nod of gratitude towards Bullet, Striker, and Rook. The bikers, bruised and battered but alive, embrace each other in a bloody hug.

"Stay safe, you guys," I call out to them, and Bullet flashes me a grin that's equal parts cocky and endearing.

"As if we’d ever do otherwise," he replies, smiling. “We’re model citizens, remember?”

"Take care of yourselves," Rook adds, gruff and grudging as ever. But there's a warmth in his tone that betrays his true feelings. He may not be the most expressive man, but I know he cares about us just as much as we care about him. “And, Thunder, don’t think I’m ever going to forget that you owe me.”

"Yeah, yeah, I love you, too, Rook. And thanks again for saving my life or whatever," Marcus says, grinning. With that, he kneels down and hefts Brian to his feet. “Come on, you lucky son of a bitch, time to go.”

With one last glance at our friends, we step out into the night, hearts laden with love and minds set on justice.

"Are you ready?" Marcus asks, his eyes steady and unwavering as they meet mine.

“No, I’m not,” Brian murmurs. “I’d rather go home.”

“Didn’t ask you, dipshit,” Marcus says, shoving Brian forward. “Now, march.”

"I’m ready," I reply, my voice steely with determination.

Marcus’s lips find mine in a searing, passionate kiss.

"Then let's go take these bastards down.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Amelia

Sheer exhaustion wraps around me like a suffocating force, pressing every fiber of my being into the worn leather of the armchair. My mind flits back to the past few hours—every scrape, bruise, and terrifying moment when Marcus and I narrowly escaped death, our pursuers' shouts echoing through the blood-humid air—they all torment me, even in memory.

Across from me, Natalie O’Connell meticulously arranges her audio equipment in the living room of Marcus’ house. I’ve known her only a short time, but I have to admire her dedication to her craft, her determination to take on a story that—by my very bloody appearance—she has to know is dangerous.

Tied to a chair in the corner, a stark reminder of the battle that led us here, is Brian Russell. My former boss's defeated expression betrays a hint of remorse, but it's overshadowed by his fear. He knows that his part in this sinister puzzle, willingly or not, has repercussions—jail or death waits for him. Possibly both, depending on just how vengeful the Santoro Syndicate feels.

"You're certain about going public with this, Lia?" Natalie asks, her voice laden with heartfelt concern. "Once this story gets out, there's no turning back."

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, the sharp pain in my palm grounding me as my nails dig deep. "Absolutely," I reply, determination seeping through. "People need to know the truth. And all this violence, it has to stop. This is the only way."

She holds my gaze for a moment, nodding in quiet admiration.

As if sensing the tension creeping in, Marcus enters the room, three cold beers in hand, their condensation leaving wet trails on his fingers. Setting them on the table, he takes his place behind me. The warmth of his hand settles on my shoulder, its steady weight reassuring. Marcus has been my anchor in this storm, my refuge, my savior.

Without breaking the comforting silence, our eyes meet. No words are needed—our journey, our bond, speaks volumes. We share a gentle kiss, and then Marcus takes a seat, silent but supportive.

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