“Who do you think it is?” I asked, reaching for my gun.

“The other half of the sword,” Chaser replied.

He was right. It couldn’t be anyone else.

“Do you think we have a mole?” I asked, feeling the weight of the revolver pressing into my back.

“Doesn’t matter now.”

Gunfire popped in the distance, and I broke out into a run with Chaser hot on my heels.

“Sloane,” he exclaimed behind me. “Stop.”

All those times on the road I’d cowered behind Chaser. I’d run from danger and did nothing to save myself. I was beginning to doubt I’d fought at all, but now I had the power and the guts to point and shoot. I would not let some hick asshole tricycle tyrants take away my justice.

Pulling the revolver out from the waistband of my jeans, I hurtled toward the smoke and flames, driven on by the shouting and gunshots. The men who’d followed us into this mess were fighting for their lives. Good men. Ratchet, Watts, Rhodes, Spike, Butcher, Hopper, Stewie…all of them.

A bullet flew past my head, the shot so close I felt air rushing past my skin. Cursing, I ducked behind the closest car and pressed my back against the door. Chaser was beside me, looking like he was about to unleash Armageddon on anyone who came close.

“Do you see anyone?” I asked, holding the revolver at the ready.

He shook his head. “Smoke’s blowing this way.

Gasket appeared out of a plume of smoke, firing a shot at a man brandishing a shotgun at his head. The man dropped, and the biker slid behind the car we were using as cover.

“Gasket,” I said, clutching his arm. It was red with blood, but it didn’t seem to be his.

“They came out of nowhere,” the old biker said. “Someone tipped them off to our location.”

“No shit,” Chaser replied.

“They brought war on us,” I stated. “Do unto others, or so they say.”

“You don’t want that stain on your soul, girl.”

I eyed Gasket and shrugged. “Too late, old man.”

“We’re going to go around the back, and cut them off,” Gasket went on, narrowing his eyes at me. “Surround their asses and force them to surrender.”

“Then what?” Chaser asked with a scowl. “Lock them up in the basement and give them parole hearings?”

“We’ll figure that out once they stop shooting.”

“The only way this will end is by not stopping. Keep firing until the cowards run and the stupid die.”

My blood ran cold. It wasn’t just bikers here. There were women as well. I doubted that mattered to the renegades. Women died just the same as their men.

“Where are the women?” I asked. “Where’s Shondra, Kelly, and the others?”

“Hopper and Deluca got them out once the first shots were fired,” Gasket replied. “They’re out in the desert someplace. Deluca knew where he was going.”

“All the more reason to shoot first and ask questions later,” Chaser said.

A rain of bullets clipped the car we were taking cover behind, and I ducked my head. The sound was awful. Thwack, thwack, thwack.

“Who cares,” I declared. “We’ve got to move before they blow the tank on this car.”

Chaser curled his hand around my arm. “You’re with me.”

“Obviously.”

Gasket nodded. “Go. I’ll cover you.”

He leaned over the top of the car and fired. Chaser and I ran, working our way around the edge of the cabin and through the tents.

Smoke and gunfire were everywhere, disorienting my movements. If it weren’t for Chaser, I would already be lost in the chaos. Deep breaths, Sloane. I breathed in, the air tinged with the rank taste of the firefight. I stepped over a body, then another, their eyes wide open and vacant, their bodies torn by bullets.

Chaser dragged me behind the workshop, and we peered around the corner, surveying the scene.

“Stay here,” he said after a moment. “Take cover, and don’t make a sound.”

“You can’t bench me,” I complained, my entire body humming with adrenaline. “Not now.”

“This is not up for debate. If anything happened to you…” His hands grasped my face.

Chaser’s eyes were full of something I’d never seen in them before. Fear. He’d lost before, and he was afraid of losing again. First Madison and now… No.

“That’s not going to happen,” I said, prying his hands away.

Chaser let out a frustrated growl as I leaned around the corner of the workshop and scanned the yard. It was quieter around here, but I could also see the only access to the basement where Marini was being held. The cabin was on fire, the flames reaching toward the sky. The heat radiating off the building was increasing as the inferno took hold, eating its way toward the back.

There was no way of knowing if Marini was still down there or if he’d been freed before the fire was set. If he was trapped, the only way out was the window I was staring at.

“If my father tries to escape, we have to stop him.”

“If he’s still down there,” Chaser replied, voicing my thoughts. He’d seemed to have resigned himself to the fact I was going to fight no matter what. Once this was over, I was positive there was going to be a ‘discussion’ about the clear reemergence of my ‘too stupid to live’ attitude.

Leaning back around, I trained my gaze on the window, hesitating when a group of men rounded the opposite side of the cabin. There were four, and they all broke off as they searched the tents.

I saw Rocket advance with a shotgun in his hands, and my blood boiled.

“You’ve only got six shots in there,” Chaser murmured in my ear. “Don’t let them go all at once.”

“Shotguns are slow,” I retorted. “Two shots, slow reload.”

“Wrong. He’s got five with a minimum fifteen second reload speed.”

The sound of breaking glass turned my head, and smoke billowed out of the basement window. I clawed at Chaser’s arm as arms and a head emerged. Marini.

Before I could do anything, Chaser strode out from behind the workshop and raised his gun and fired. One, two, three. Bodies dropped. My heart stopped as Rocket turned, aiming the shotgun right at his chest, then he fired again. Four.

Holy shit.

Marini had wormed his way out of the window, his head turning from side to side. He saw Chaser looming through the mass of tents, saw his men lying dead on the ground, and scrambled to his feet. Then he ran.

Chaser aimed but couldn’t see to get a clear shot.

“Fuck this,” I cursed.

Pushing off the wall, I sprinted after my father as he broke out into a run and disappeared into the desert.

“Sloane!” Chaser roared, but I wasn’t listening. I only had eyes for Marini.

I sprinted through the darkness, dodging cactuses and leaping over rocks, following the sound of my father’s pounding footsteps as he ran in front of me. Behind us, the glow of the burning cabin faded, and the sounds of the firefight dulled.

Gaining on him, I could see his back as he flitted through the landscape, fleeing into the desert. He dashed to the side, doubling back toward the road and the renegades. I never missed a beat. My heart galloped in my chest, my lungs burning and my thighs aching with exertion. There was no way in hell I was letting him get away.

He twisted and leaped, throwing me off this tail for a split second. It was all it took. I skidded to a halt and held the revolver at the ready, the sound of my heart thumping in my ears and my labored breathing loud in the nothingness.

I took a step forward, listening with everything I had. He had to be lurking here someplace. Hiding behind a bush like the coward he was.

There was no love left in me for him. To be honest, I doubted there ever was. The love of an innocent child, perhaps, but not the kind he deserved. Gasket was a thousand times the man Anthony Marini was.

I took another step forward, the revolver shaking in my hands. What was I going to do when I caught him? Was I going to shoot him? Could I pull the trigger? I couldn’t even face him down in that basement.

Marini leaped out of the darkness and swung his fist at me. At the last second, I realized he was clutching a large rock and ducked to the side. His fist whooshed past my head, causing him to swing and show his back to me. I slammed my elbow into the base of his spine with a cry, and he stumbled forward.

Swinging, I raised the revolver and aimed it right at him.

“I will shoot you, so help me God.” I snarled.

Marini righted himself and turned to face me, the rock still clutched in his hand. His silver hair shone in the moonlight, his body silhouetted by the orange glow of the burning cabin.

“I’m your father,” he said. “You wouldn’t…”

“Have you met you?” I asked, curling my lip. “I’m half of you, remember?”

“You’re half her, too.”

His words sliced through me. He was right, but he was also trying to hit me where it hurt. I couldn’t let him manipulate me. Not now.

“Shoot now, and you’ll be just like me,” he said. “You liked that gun. You said it was pretty. Do you know what I use it for?”

“Shut up.” I snarled.

“I killed Harley with it,” he went on, his lip curling. “I killed him for you.”

“Liar!” I exclaimed. “You killed him to protect yourself. You were going to hand me over to the Hollow Men. Admit it.”

“Do you think you’re better off with Chaser and Gasket?” He took a step forward. “They can’t keep you safe from King, but I can.”

“I don’t believe you.” I took a step back. “You were going to sell me off. Again.”

“I made a mistake,” he said, his expression softening. “I should never have made that deal.”

“The Venturas,” I declared. “The same men who murdered my mother.”

Marini’s expression hardened.

“Did you ever love her?” A tear slid from my eye as the revolver shook in my hands.

He stared at me and said nothing.

“Answer me!”

“Once,” he said, devoid of emotion. I drew in a shaky breath as he took another step toward me. “But she was a stupid whore just like you are now. Fucking Chaser, planning a coup with Gasket, murdering Rick. Look at what you’ve brought down on Fortitude. You’re not better than me, you are me. You are my daughter. You are a Marini, Betty, but like you said yourself. You’re half her. Half murderer, half dumb whore. You’re damaged goods, little bitch. That’s why you’ll never be able to pull that trigger.”

My breathing quickened, and rage boiled through my veins. He’d never loved me. He’d never cared. There was nothing inside him but greed, hate, and depravity.

Marini lunged…

…and I pulled the trigger.

The bullet tore through his chest, piercing his heart. He fell backward onto the ground as the gunshot echoed through the humid night air. Standing over him, I watched as a torrent of blood bloomed from his chest, staining his shirt and leaking into the grit underneath him. His gaze met mine, and he let go of his last breath, the sound passing through me like his ghost had rushed through my body on its way to Hell.

Chaser was right. That man I killed beside the road in Texas was the first of many.