Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cullen

On my knees, I had the gun dangle on my finger before letting it fall to the carpet. My eyes scanned to my boots, on the other side of the room. I didn’t have either of my weapons now.

Bruiser laughed. Long and hard. The asshole had been waiting for this day for a long time.

“Okay. Let her go,” I growled. Grace was still in his arms, still trembling, eyes closed, her lips moving in a silent prayer.

He gave me a dismissive wave. “In a minute. Hands behind your head.”

He was milking this, now, on a power trip. I did as he said, giving him a defiant look. “Now. Let her go, fucker.”

Bruiser shook his head and sauntered over to me, still holding the gun to Grace’s temple. “Let me enjoy this a little.”

That was not a good sign.

Grinning down at me, he suddenly spat at me, foul-smelling saliva spraying my face. I refused to blink, to let him have that satisfaction. He motioned to the other guys, who came over and did it as well, hocking up saliva in their throats over and over again, until it was dripping from my chin, running down my neck, thick and wet. The other guys got off on it, too, making a show of it, seeing who had the best aim.

All the while, I stared at them, my blood hot and raging in my veins, wanting to rip their fucking heads off.

Only one thing went through my mind, as far as they were concerned. If I got out of this.

No.

Fucking.

Mercy.

“Let. Her. Go!” I repeated, the strength of my voice growing to a boom. “Now. Let her and the baby out of here right now. That was our deal.”

He laughed. “You didn’t say please.”

He shoved Grace over to his two goons, who grabbed her, putting their hands all over her. One of them put his hands up her camisole, cupping her tits, and she whimpered. Now it’d gone too far. If I ever got out of here, I knew I’d kill them all, in the bloodiest way possible. No more making peace. I wouldn’t rest until all of them were ripped limb from limb.

He came up close to me, running the gun through my hair, as if trying to style it. He leaned over and squeezed on my cheek. Patted my face. He was loving this, getting the best of a club president, since he’d never had the balls or the popularity to be one himself. The two goons behind him laughed, spurring him on. “I wonder what your guys would say if they could see King Cobra now, huh?” he asked them. He looked over at Grace. “What do you think, seeing your pussy-assed man like this? Not so badass, is he?”

But I wouldn’t look at her. I could hear her whimpering. Feel her trembling. It was too much to know I’d brought this all on her. That I’d fucked her, just the way all those men had fucked over her mom. Just the way she knew I’d end up fucking her.

I flinched and scowled up at him. “You’re going to get yours. Soon. And I’m going to fucking dance on your grave.”

He brought his gun to my forehead, pushed the cold steel hard into the very center of my head, between my eyes. “Don’t think so, Cullen, my boy. This is where you end.”

As he cocked the gun, I managed a tight smile.

“I’ll see you in hell,” I hissed.

“You might,” he grinned, pressing the gun harder into my skin. “But even then, you’re never going to know what we did with your sweet little tasty bitch. We’ll leave you to burn, wondering. But I’m telling you, it won’t be pretty.”

Fucking hell. They really weren’t going to let her go after I was gone. No fucking wonder Nix had such a thirst for blood where the Fury were concerned. He was level-headed otherwise, but had no mercy for the Fury, because they’d done this to his girl, Olivia, too. They would have killed her, too, if we hadn’t intervened. And I hadn’t listened. I’d fought him on retaliation until the last possible moment. I’d been too soft. Tried to play nice, for the sake of my own stupidity.

Right then, I swore, as long as I lived, I’d never make that mistake again.

Bruiser’s finger tightened on the trigger, and I knew it wouldn’t be long.

But then, his smile dissolved, and I looked past the gun pointing between my eyes, catching him listening. I strained to hear over the sound of my pulse, pounding through my temples. Motorcycles. Fury . . . Or Cobras? The other men heard it, too, because one of them went into the living room. “I didn’t think any of the other guys were. . .” he was mumbling as he stepped out.

I knew the disruption was my best and last chance.

While Bruiser was distracted by the sound, I swung my arm out, pushing the gun’s barrel off of my forehead. Stunned, Bruiser turned back and fired off a round, and the ceramic lamp at the night stand exploded. I rolled to the floor behind the bed, reached for my boot, grabbed my other piece, and fired off a single shot aimed at Bruiser’s head.

The bullet caught him in his forehead and shaved off the top of his skull, showering me with blood and brain matter and bone fragments. I wiped the gore from my face in time to see him collapse to the floor in a heap, a stunned look on his face, like he didn’t know what hit him.

I turned my gun to the other guy. Grace screamed in the man’s grip, fighting against him. I heard the man shout, “You bitch,” as I watched her lift her mouth from his arm, leaving a bloody half-circle-shaped bite mark on his forearm. She’d fucking bit him, tearing off a chunk of his skin. A woman possessed, her hair flying in her face, she kicked backwards, yanking violently.

Fuck! Where did this Grace come from?

The guy was no match for her. He tried to turn his gun to her as she let out a shriek, all flailing arms and legs, elbowing it out of his grip before he could aim. When she saw me, she wrenched herself free from him and ducked, flattening herself on the ground.

I fired off a shot, hitting him in the chest, and he staggered backwards, clutching his heart, falling in front of the bathroom door.

“Cullen!” she screamed.

Reaching for her and shoving her aside, blocking her with my body, I quickly turned to the other guy, who was just returning from the living room, his gun drawn. He put his hands up, dropping his weapon. “Hey. Wait.”

“I don’t wait,” I muttered, still pumped with adrenaline after what they’d done to Grace.

Fuck that. I wasn’t going to wait again. Didn’t care that he was new Fury blood. He’d picked the wrong goddamn side.

I fired off two rounds into his head. He sunk to his knees, a small river of blood trickling into his eyes, before falling face-first to the ground.

Grace slunk down onto the bed, breathing hard, vising her head in her hands. Her wide eyes scanned the dead bodies at her feet. “Oh. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

I went to her, knelt down in front of her. “You okay?” I couldn’t touch her; I was full of spit and gore.

It didn’t matter to her. She wasn’t looking at me. Still shaking, she pushed away from me, and crawled toward the closet. It was only then that I heard Ella’s crying. Grace came out of the closet, gathering Ella to her chest, shushing her softly. By the time I crawled over there, Ella had calmed and was cooing softly, smiling up at her mother’s face.

Fierce. Caring. Loyal. Grace was born to be a mother. Born to be the mother of my kids. And with a woman this good in Ella’s life, I figured I couldn’t fuck things up too much. I’d give it my best shot.

I crawled up and staggered to the bathroom and ran my head under the shower to clean the Fury shit off my head and my face. I could hear Grace escape to the living room as I grabbed a towel, wiping myself clean, dry, stepping over the carnage as I joined her in the living room.

I leaned over and kissed them both, ready for whatever came next.