“Fuck!” Ky hissed.
Guns fired in all directions. Ky and Styx rushed down the stairs of the building, plowing into the fray. I aimed and fired at another Mexican guard. He fell as I hit my target.
Garcia jumped into the back of the Escalade and shut the door. The bullets pinged off the metal, not getting through. Grace screamed, covering her ears at the sounds.
Ky dove for his daughter, but as he did, Meister grabbed hold of her and wrenched her to his chest. He took out his gun and held it to Grace’s head. Ky stopped dead, as did Styx. Heart pounding, I lined up my shot, placing the bullseye at Meister’s head.
Calm.
Breathe.
Focus.
But before I could pull the trigger, a shot fired from behind him. The bullet came smashing through his skull, brain and bone hitting the air. My head snapped up as Meister’s huge body fell forward, dead, blue eyes forever open, landing on top of Grace. Ky had flipped him off her in seconds, picked up his daughter and run back in the direction of the barn. I turned my head, looking to see who had shot the prick. Phebe stood with a rifle in her hand, hands fucking shaking and cheeks paling. She’d fucking hit him.
Direct hit on Meister.
Sapphira was still on the ground, hiding her head with her hands. Two more men came running at Phebe. I took one out, then the other, not letting a single one get near her. I had just lined up my next shot, some AB driver who had jumped out of the van, when a gunshot went off behind me. In seconds I rolled onto my back, ready to strike whoever was there, and the body of a Klansman slammed to the roof beside me. I looked up to see who had taken the fucker out.
It was Lil’ Ash.
His gun was held out, nostrils flared as he stared down at the now-dead skinhead.
“Ash,” I said. His black eyes were wide with shock, but he managed to look at me.
“I saw him come up the stairs. I had to follow.”
“Ash—” I heard the sound of tires screeching from the road. I rolled back onto my front and saw all three of the vans pulling out onto the dirt road, abandoning the Klansmen who were still fighting my brothers. Flame was hacking some cunt up with his knives; Viking was shooting at any fucker that moved.
And then I saw him. Saw some Klansman get off the ground, bleeding from a gunshot wound in his shoulder. Phebe was looking around in a daze, hands bloodied, face pale, lost, trying to find Sapphira. She’d gone. Where the fuck had she gone?
Then I saw, almost in slow motion, as the Klansman pointed his gun at Phebe. I scrambled for my rifle, determined to end this fucker. And I shot, sending a bullet through his heart. But he’d already fired his gun before he hit the ground.
I watched helplessly. I watched as Sapphira came running from behind the cover of a van and pushed Phebe out of the way. And I watched as the bullet sailed straight through her stomach. Her brown eyes were wide, turning to Phebe as she fell to the ground.
I ran. I fucking ran the minute Phebe lifted her head and saw Sapphira on the ground. I was there in seconds, taking out the final few fuckers that got in my way. I followed the sounds of Phebe’s frantic cries and ran to where she sat, screaming and crying with Sapphira in her arms. Blood mushroomed across Sapphira’s white dress, fucking bright-red blood coming from her stomach.
“No!” Phebe screamed as the shooting came to a stop.
The vans had gone; the Escalade had escaped too. Garcia had got away.
“Rider!” I shouted and dropped down beside Phebe. She was a fucking mess, beaten, bruised and clearly raped, but her blue eyes were wild, fucking cut, when she met my gaze. “Sapphira!” she cried harder, almost unable to breathe.
I thought I’d seen pain before. I thought I’d seen the fucking terror of loss. But in that moment I realized I hadn’t seen shit. Phebe, my fucking Red, was dying along with her daughter. Fucking heart broken and bleeding out.
Rider came sprinting to Phebe. Our van came seconds later, Slash at the wheel. Grace was in the front of the cabin, her little hands on the glass, trying to see Phebe and Sapphira.
“I need her in the back,” Rider said. I picked Sapphira up in my arms.
Phebe reached forward, trying to get her back from me, fucking losing it more, second by second. “Get in the van, Red,” I ordered, trying to be quick. Phebe stumbled to her feet. I laid Sapphira on the floor, and Rider got to work. He split her dress, and I watched as he rubbed his hand down his face, seeing the wound. It was bad. It was fucking bad.
I could tell by his reaction.
“We need to go, now,” he said and got the fuck to work.
I lifted Phebe in beside Sapphira. She fell to her knees at her daughter’s side. She held her hand and rocked back and forth.
Phebe was already emotionally too far gone.
Red was fucking mentally tapping out.
I turned and saw my brothers getting back on their bikes. Then I saw Ash, standing on his own, staring at his fucking hands. I sprinted over to him. “Ash,” I said, and he looked up. The kid hadn’t even seen the commotion, too fucking busy freaking out about his kill. “You good?” He numbly nodded his head.
“I need you to ride my bike back to Austin.” Ash nodded again. “Ash?” I pushed, and Flame appeared behind him. Ash looked at his older brother and swallowed.
Flame’s hand clenched at his side, then clenched again. “I got him,” he said, then awkwardly as fuck, put his hand on Ash’s shoulder and squeezed. I saw the fucking tears build in Ash’s eyes at the fact Flame was touching him. At the fact he’d killed.
Flame was fucking touching him.
I gave my keys to Flame, then turned and ran back to the van. I slammed the doors shut and sat beside Phebe. I pulled my bitch into my arms as Rider worked on Sapphira. As we moved out, Phebe looked up at me, her lifeless daughter on the floor before her, and I didn’t like what I fucking saw in her eyes. She was dead. Her eyes were fucking dead. The tears had stopped, she was numb, but her hand held tight to her daughter’s.
So I held on to her.
I just fucking held on.
*****
Phebe
“No,” a voice screamed from beside me. I blinked and then heard two shots. I turned, and Sapphira jerked before me. I was confused. I did not know what had happened . . . until she fell . . . she fell to the ground. I dropped beside her, then I saw it. Saw the blood pouring from her stomach. Saw her brown eyes watching me, silently begging me to save her.
“Sapphira.” Her eyes began to close. Panic gripped me as I the blood kept coming. I pulled her into my arms, trying to wake her up. “Sapphira!” I screamed, realizing she would not wake. I brought my hands to her face. She was getting cold . . . she was getting cold . . .