Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
And something inside me, something primal, ancient, brutal surges into place.
I kiss her forehead. Her temple. Her cheek.
Rapid, anchoring kisses that aren’t about passion but survival.
Then I whisper against her skin: “I won’t lose you. Not tonight. Not ever.”
She nods, eyes shining with tears and fire. “Okay,” she breathes. “Okay, Riot. I trust you.”
The pounding grows louder. I step in front of her and raise my gun.
If they want a war tonight, they’re about to learn what it costs to threaten what’s mine.
Twenty
Kelly
I may not remember everything, but I remember enough.
* * *
The pounding at the steel door grows so violent the floor trembles under my feet. Dust rains from the low ceiling, mixing with the bitter taste of fear on my tongue. Riot stands between me and the staircase, broad shoulders squared, gun raised, fury radiating off him in waves.
Not panic. Not fear.
Fury.
Like he’s ready—eager—to rip apart whatever’s trying to get in.
“Stay behind me,” he repeats, low and lethal.
I grip the gun he handed me earlier. It feels wrong in my hand, foreign, heavy, too full of consequences for someone who can’t even remember her own life.
But I remember this, Riot’s voice steadying me. His hands on mine when he taught me…Wait.
My breath catches.
A memory hits me like a punch to the chest.
Not a flash. A full moment.
Riot behind me in an open space behind the clubhouse, hands wrapped around mine, adjusting my grip on something small and metal.
‘You trust me?’ he asked.
‘Yeah,’ I whispered.
‘Then do exactly as I tell you. That’s how you stay alive.’
I gasp, fingers tightening around the gun now. He taught me to shoot.
Riot doesn’t turn, but he hears the breath hitch. I can tell by the way he shifts half an inch toward me while keeping his gun aimed at the door.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I remembered something,” I whisper.
His jaw ticks. “Later. Survive first.”
The top door above slams again.
The metal groans. Splits. Bows inward.
They’re almost through.
“Riot,” My voice shakes despite my best efforts. “How many?”
“Too many,” he mutters.
“Can we run?”
“Not yet.”
Another strike—BOOM—echoes through the underground. The beam above cracks. Riot steps forward, feet planted, weapon steady.
I crouch behind a support beam like he told me to, heart hammering so hard it hurts. Sweat prickles my palms. The storm outside rips through the forest, wind shrieking through whatever vents the intruders didn’t crawl through.
“What do they want?” I whisper. “The rest of the Kings will be here soon.”
Riot doesn’t answer. Maybe he can’t. Maybe the rage choking him won’t let words come out.
A final violent slam punches the door off its hinges.
It crashes inward.
Shadows spill down the stairway—three, four, five men, all armed, faces hidden behind black masks marked with the raven painted red across its beak.
The same mark that stole my memories. The same mark that stalked us. The same mark pinned to the front of the truck that tried to kill me.
My entire body locks.
They freeze mid-step when they see Riot standing in the open.
One lifts his weapon. “I wouldn’t,” Riot warns.
He fires. Riot moves faster.
Two gunshots crack—one from the intruder, one from Riot. The man at the front drops instantly, slamming into the stairs. Blood splatters the concrete.
The others rush down.
Chaos explodes.
Riot shoves me back as gunfire erupts.
“DOWN, KELLY!”
I drop instantly, hands over my head as bullets scream past, pinging off steel beams. Riot unloads his clip in controlled bursts, every shot precise. The underground becomes smoke, yelling, thunder overhead, footfalls pounding, metal cracking.
One attacker jumps the last five steps, landing behind a generator. He fires blindly.
Riot lunges sideways, rolling behind a pillar.
He fires twice. The man collapses with a grunt.
Another figure moves along the left wall, silent like a ghost.
I see him before Riot does. “RIOT—LEFT!” I scream.
Riot whips around, but the intruder already has the gun raised.
Time slows.
Riot can’t dodge in time. He’s too far. He’s exposed.
So I move.
I don’t think. I don’t breathe.
I act.
I raise the gun Riot gave me and fire.
The recoil shocks my entire arm, jolting through my shoulder so hard my bones vibrate. But the bullet lands.
The man jerks, stumbling backward, gun flying from his hand as he collapses against the wall.
Everything stops.
Riot’s head snaps toward me.
His eyes—oh God.
Raw. Wide.
Something between horror and pride and terror.
“Kelly,” he starts.
But another masked man barrels down the steps behind him, swinging something heavy. Riot ducks as it smashes into the pole. Sparks fly.
Riot spins, fist connecting with the man’s jaw—once, twice, three times—until the masked figure drops like a stone.
But I barely process it.
All I can hear is the ringing in my ears. All I can feel is the tremor in my arm. All I can taste is adrenaline.
I shot someone. To protect him.
The realization hits hard, but before I can spiral— THUNK.
The emergency exit behind us slams open from the outside.
Riot curses. “Backup door—should’ve been locked. FUCK!”
A massive figure steps in, a different build than the others. Taller. Heavier. Almost strangely calm.