The person who caused my crash strides past my friends and hides behind his friends, all while holding a bat against his shoulder. He wears black from head to toe, and like his friends, his visor shields his identity.
“You took something of ours,” one rider says. I don’t recognize his voice, but that’s probably because it’s muffled by his helmet.
Hawk slips his gloved hand into his pocket, reaching for the pocketknife he keeps on him at all times. “Yeah? You almost killed my friend, asshole.”
“We were aiming for that.” Amusement laces the second rider’s deep voice.
I clench my jaw and curl my fingers into tight fists by my sides.
Hawk’s face twists into a snarl. “Is that right? I’ll ask again: who the fuck are you?”
The rider at the front cocks his head. “You don’t recognize us?”
“How the hell do you expect us to know who you are when you’re hiding behind helmets?” Hawk pulls out the pocketknife and releases the blade.
The riders chuckle, and the leader takes another step toward Jaxon and Hawk. “Maybe it’s best if you don’t know who we are yet. In fact, I like this better because it’ll keep you guessing. It’s been fun watching you try to figure it out. But I’ll throw you a scrap. You killed our friend, and that doesn’t go unpunished.”
“An eye for an eye,” the other man says.
Aiden and I rush to Hawk and Jaxon, though I wave Dahlia off when she tries to follow. She stops in her tracks, her eyes narrowing at me, but she doesn’t say anything. Jaxon will havemy balls if I let her get into any danger. I don’t see this ending with a few angry words followed by beers around a bonfire.
“We’ve killed a lot of people. Narrow it down, motherfucker,” Aiden says.
The man holding a baseball bat stiffens and turns his head toward Aiden and me. Good. I’m glad what Aiden said got under his skin. I hope it hurts like hell.
“I want you to think long and hard about it,” the man says, annoyance tinging his voice.
Aiden scoffs. “I’ll give you something long and hard.”
I move nearer to Jaxon as he stalks closer to the group. Holding out my arm, I stop him from closing the last of the space between them. He might be a badass, but he needs to focus on staying near Dahlia.
“You realize Hellfire Night has no laws, right?” I ask. This has to be about Hellfire Night. The rules are strict, and the repercussions are too great for us to take a kill at any other time.
That’s a lie. I’ll kill anyone at any time if it means I can have Madison.
“Don’t care. That doesn’t mean you’re free from the consequences of what you do during those hours,” the leader says. He sounds bored and not at all pissed about us killing his friend.
I slip my hand into my pocket, where my large pocketknife is ready to use in case this goes south. “So you want revenge.”
Not a question. Just a statement.
“Of course I want revenge.”
“You really don’t want this bad blood between us, man,” Hawk says.
The leader pulls a switchblade from his pocket and snaps it out. “There already is.”
“Just so you know”—the light dims in Jaxon’s eyes—“your friend screamed like a bitch when I cut out his tongue.”
It’s a bluff. We all know it, but it hits its mark and all hell breaks loose.
The four riders sprint toward us, and we meet them in the middle. Fists fly. Boots meet groins and stomachs. Elbows jab into chests. Jaxon pulls off his helmet and uses it to beat the ever-loving fuck out of the guy pinned beneath him.
One rider rushes toward Dahlia. I tackle him to the ground and jerk off his helmet so I can get a good look at his face before I bloody it.
“Ryder!” Dahlia screams.
Right as I swing my head to the side, a bat flies toward my helmet and connects, throwing me backward.
