“We’ll get her back, dude. And we’ll destroy those motherfuckers.” Grasshopper slapped a hand on my shoulder.

I winced as my headache flared, but I appreciated the gesture. Fuck, I appreciated everything he’d done—even if I was livid.

I owed him.

If it hadn’t have been for Hopper, I might’ve bled out or turned into a damn zucchini before anyone noticed. He’d been the one to pop around when he couldn’t get me on the phone. He was the one who found me passed out.

Mo pulled his gun free and clicked off the safety. “Let’s go.” Like an evil spirit, he dissolved into the tree line.

Grasshopper took off after him, leaving me to bring up the rear—like a rookie or some idiotic prospect.

The trees were watchdogs.

The shadows were death’s pockets to hide in.

We remained silent as we merged with the darkness, slinking stealthily through leaves and cobwebs.

Every step throbbed my head.

Every duck to avoid branches sent queasiness splashing through my skull.

Cleo was nearby and we were about to rescue her.

That was all the incentive I needed to do my fucking job as a Pure Corruption president and lover to my woman.

I’m stronger than a damn concussion.

However, the closer we got to the large wooden fence barricading Dagger Rose, the more I feared I might not be a help but a hindrance. Mo was right to put me at the back. My muscles trembled and the cold sweat of illness never let up. I could barely stomach the pain of walking, let alone running into battle and firing a loud gun.

Shit.

Moving past the glade where I’d brought Cleo, my fists tightened as I recalled her peering through the hole in the fence and witnessing her old home.

It hurt like hell that she couldn’t remember everything we’d shared, but at the same time, I was glad. Glad that she couldn’t recall the night we both lost everything.

My stomach convulsed as a rancid thought crusted my mind.

She’ll know.

She’ll remember what I did.

My father would’ve had ample time to tell her what happened. To show her the false statement and guild lies into truths.

Everything he said would reek of dishonesty—but one fact remained.

One undisputed fact that would make her hate me for eternity.

What I did was unforgivable.

I was the one who pulled the trigger.

I was the one to slaughter the two people she cared for most in this world.

How can she ever forgive me once she knows?

More pain morphed into my heart. I could barely place one foot in front of the other at the thought of her turning her back on me.

I truly would end up in hell if she cast me away.

Hopper and Mo appeared from the undergrowth, forming a wall in front of me like good footmen in war. Their large boots tiptoed, cracking twigs and scuffing falling leaves. Their bulk and the added weight of leather and denim didn’t exactly make a silent ambush.

Our jilted movements threaded with the buzz of night insects and occasional scurry of something in the bushes.

Time moved interminably slow as we made our way down and around, following the perimeter toward the main entrance where the rest of Pure Corruption had gathered.

The Pures were reliant.

I didn’t have to chase or remind. I didn’t have to second-guess or plan. The men knew what was expected and it got done.

“What the fuck?” Grasshopper muttered as we rounded the final corner.

I slammed to a halt, cursing my head as my bruised brains sloshed like chum. What the fuck was right.

“I don’t get it,” Mo grumbled, picking up the pace.

My heart thundered, panic dousing my blood as we closed the distance. Pure Corruption brothers stood congregated around the main entrance rather than hidden and preparing to attack. All but one had their backs to us, the emblem of our Club gleaming in silver thread in the darkness.

The man facing us, Matchsticks, rubbed a hand over his face before waving in acknowledgment. His huge feet flattened fallen bracken as he came forward. He was one of the tallest brothers in Pure Corruption—built like a mountain with a gut to match. Despite his size, his face was kind and unscarred, and his long hair made him seem as gentle as a puppy dog rather than vicious like a pit bull.

Something’s not right.

Fear whipped around like a hurricane inside me.

Craning my neck, I tried to see what the men were crowded around. Why do I smell smoke? Anxiety heightened. I hated the smell of burning after what’d happened.

It hurt like a bitch to arrange my face into question marks and authority. “What’s going on here?”

“Prez.” Matchsticks nodded in respect before straightening his shoulders as if preparing for bad news. His long hair did nothing to hide the beaded sweat on his brow. “We, eh—there’s been a development that we didn’t see coming.”

My eyes tightened, my vision ebbed. “You have precisely two seconds to spit it out.”

Grasshopper and Mo flanked me, pistols cocked and fingers on the trigger by their sides.

My attention darted to the Dagger Rose compound. The gates were wide open like teeth in a giant wooden skull, beckoning us into the belly of our enemies.

Matchsticks looked back at the compound. “I was one of the first here. Came as soon as I got the call from Hopper saying you were out fucking cold and your old lady had been stolen. I brought Bas and Coin, and we staked out the compound.”

My breathing climbed with every word.

“Nothing happened. We couldn’t see the girl, and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. I swear on my life I didn’t look away in the two days we’ve been here, but somehow …”