By the time they reached the outskirts of the quarry, the sounds of combat had largely subsided. Occasional gunshots still echoed through the comm, but the intense firefight appeared to be over.
Blade slowed the motorcycle as they approached a roadblock, club members securing the perimeter, turning away any civilian traffic that might happen upon the scene.
One of them recognized him immediately. "Blade! What the hell are you doing here?"
"Where's Lily?" Blade demanded, ignoring the question as he dismounted, wincing as the movement pulled at his wound.
Decker's expression told him everything he needed to know. "Man, you should talk to Lucky or Savage. They're?—"
"Where. Is. She." Each word was a bullet, precisely aimed.
Decker swallowed hard, then pointed toward the quarry floor. "Medical tent. They set up a triage point by the old office building."
Blade was moving before the man finished speaking, leaving the prospect to deal with the bikes. The pain in his chest was distant now, secondary to the driving need to find Lily.
The quarry was a scene of controlled chaos. Club members secured the area, checking bodies, collecting weapons. A helicopter sat on the far side, the medevac Trinity had arranged, its rotors still as medical personnel worked nearby.
And there, near a dilapidated building that must have once housed the quarry's administrative offices, a large tent had been erected. Red cross symbols marked it as a medical station. Blade moved toward it with single-minded focus, ignoring the surprised looks from brothers who clearly hadn't expected to see him here, much less upright and mobile.
At the tent entrance, Savage intercepted him, blocking his path with a firm hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Blade, wait."
"Get out of my way," Blade growled.
"You need to prepare yourself," Savage insisted, not releasing him. "It's bad."
A roaring filled Blade's ears, drowning out everything but the terrible implication of those words. Bad. It's bad.
"Let me see her," he demanded, his voice raw with emotion he couldn't contain. "Now."
Savage studied him for a moment, then nodded once, stepping aside.
The tent was crowded with the injured, club members with various wounds being treated by the medical team. Blade scanned the space desperately, searching for blonde hair, for the small form he'd come to cherish.
There, on a cot at the far end. A still figure, surrounded by medical personnel from the med transport working with urgent efficiency. Blood-soaked bandages. IV lines. Monitoring equipment hastily set up.
And Lily, pale as death, unconscious as they worked to save her.
Blade's legs nearly gave out at the sight. Only iron will kept him upright, moving forward through the tent toward her. The medical team parted silently at his approach, recognizing either his rank in the club or the devastation on his face.
"Two GSWs," one of them reported quietly as Blade reached the cot. "One to the shoulder, through and through. The other to the abdomen, more complicated. We've stabilized her for transport, but she needs a trauma center. Helicopter's being prepped now."
Blade barely heard them, his focus entirely on Lily's face. So still. So pale. Nothing like the vibrant, determined woman who'd left the clubhouse that morning. Who'd promised to come back to him.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice a rasp.
"She saved Marcus," came Lucky's voice from behind him. "When Jose's men made their move, she put herself between them and Marcus. Took fire meant for him. Then kept fighting, kept him moving until Rampage could reach them." A pause. "She's a fucking hero, Blade."
A hero. Yes. His brave, stubborn, incredible Lily.
He reached out, hand trembling, to brush a strand of blood-matted hair from her forehead. "You promised to come back to me, baby girl," he whispered, too quietly for anyone else to hear. "Don't you dare break that promise now."
Her eyelids fluttered at his touch. A tiny movement, almost imperceptible, but Blade caught it.
"Lily?" he called, hope surging. "Lily, can you hear me?"
Another flutter. Then, miraculously, her eyes opened, just barely, unfocused and clouded with pain, but open.
"Bl...ade?" Her voice was a whisper, barely audible.
