Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Bama

My heart pounds like a jackhammer in my chest as I gun the engine of my bike, tearing down the street.

The wind whips at my face, but all I can see is Jordyn's text flashing in my mind: "911 - Tart."

Something's wrong—wrong enough for her to send that message to the entire club's group chat.

"Come on, come on!" I mutter, twisting the throttle harder.

Billings blurs past me in a haze of neon signs and darkened windows.

The evening air is cool but does nothing to chill the fire burning inside me.

"Hold tight, Jordyn," I whisper, even though she can't hear me.

"Keep up!" Bolt yells over the wind, his voice a growl of urgency.

I grit my teeth, pushing the throttle harder.

My mind races with worst-case scenarios. Blood. Screams. Her lying broken and alone.

No, I can't think like that. Focus.

Tart looms up ahead, its neon sign flickering like a dying star.

My heart hammers against my ribs.

A few members stayed back, but a few others are supposed to meet us here.

I'm riding out with Tex, Dracus, Zane, and Bolt.

We skid to a halt, gravel spraying under our tires.

The front door to Tart is shut and all of the lights are turned off.

I rush up to the door and pull it open, but it's locked.

With all my might, I kick the glass as hard as I can until it breaks, making my way through the door.

"Jordyn!" I shout, yanking my gun from its holster.

The weight of it feels reassuring in my hand, but it doesn't calm the fear gnawing at my insides.

I stride forward, every muscle tense and ready to snap.

"Jordyn!" I call again, searching for her.

Bikes roll up behind me and members of the club are searching through the bakery as quickly as possible.

The place is pitch-black.

"Fuck," Dracus mutters, eyes scanning the shadows.

"Stay sharp," Zane orders, already moving inside. We follow, stepping into the pitch black. I flick on the light.

"Jordyn!" my voice cracks with desperation.

Then I see her. My breath catches in my throat. Zane's by her side in an instant, kneeling in shattered glass.

"Help, quick!" he shouts, his voice raw.

Jordyn's sprawled in the display case, a mess of glass and blood. Shards stick out of her arms and stomach like twisted knives. My heart drops to my boots.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, holstering my gun and rushing forward.

My hands shake as I reach her, but I force them steady. Zane's already there, his eyes wide with panic.

"Zane, what do we do?" My voice sounds foreign, distant.

"Call 911!" he barks, not looking up from Jordyn. His hands are pressing down on her wounds, trying to stem the flow.

Blood seeps through his fingers.

"911?" I echo, feeling stupid for some reason.

We never call ambulances unless it's absolutely necessary.

"Do it now, Bama!" Zane snaps, desperation edging his tone. "Her injuries are too bad for Cheyenne to handle this at the club. I need help guys! Her fuckin' wrists!"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Cheyenne's good, but even she has limits.

I fumble for my phone, dialing with clumsy fingers.

The operator's voice is a blur as I give the address, my eyes never leaving Jordyn.

She's so still, too damn still.

"Ambulance is on its way," I say, my voice shaking.

"Move!" Dracus barks, pushing past me.

Bolt's right behind him, rags already in hand.

They're like a well-oiled machine, years of dealing with the unexpected teaching them hard life lessons.

"Hold her steady," Dracus orders, his eyes not leaving Jordyn for a second.

Bolt's hands are swift but gentle as he wraps the rags around her wrists.

Blood is everywhere, soaking through the makeshift bandages almost instantly.

"Is it working?" I ask, desperation clawing at my throat. My heart's pounding so loud I can barely hear myself think.

"Not enough," Bolt mutters through gritted teeth. "But we gotta try."

I look at Jordyn's face, pale and lifeless. This isn't happening. It can't be.

Just a few hours ago, she was laughing, teasing me about my Southern drawl. Now she's . . .

"Stay with us, Jordyn," I whisper, my voice cracking. "Stay with us, babe,"

"Keep pressure here," Dracus instructs, guiding my trembling hands to one of her wounds. His touch is firm, grounding me. "We can't let her bleed out before they get here."

"Got it," I say, focusing on the task. The warmth of her blood seeps through my fingers, sticky and terrifyingly real.

"Dammit, where's that ambulance?" Zane growls, looking up from his phone.

He's pacing, eyes darting between the door and Jordyn. Every second feels like an eternity.

"Just hang on a bit longer," I murmur to her, as much for myself as for her. "Help's comin'."

"Here," Bolt says, shoving another rag into my free hand. "Switch it out when this one gets soaked."

"Right." I nod, trying to keep my hands steady. Focus. Breathe. She needs me.

"Listen up," Dracus says, his voice cutting through the tension. "When they get here, we make sure they know she's the priority. No delays, no bullshit about what happened."

"Understood," I reply, locking eyes with him.

We don't even know what the fuck happened. The only person that does is Jordyn, but I could take a guess.

"Stay with us, Jordyn," I whisper again, pressing down harder on the wound. "We're gonna get you outta this. I promise."

"Move aside," Tex barks, shoving through the tension-thick air like a bulldozer.

His eyes are wild, but there's a method to his madness. In his hand, he's clutching a bottle of super glue.

"Tex, what the hell?" Dracus snaps, but Tex is already dropping to his knees beside Jordyn.

"Trust me," Tex growls, popping the cap off the bottle. "It's gonna help."

"Do it," I say, my voice raw from shouting and fear. Anything that can keep her with us a moment longer.

"Hold her steady." Tex's hands move with surprising gentleness as he applies the glue to her wrists, sealing up the worst of the cuts.

The bleeding slows, almost miraculously. I can't even process it—just relief mingled with terror.

"Good thinkin'," Bolt mutters, eyes wide as he watches the blood flow lessen. But we're not out of the woods yet.

"Ambulance is close," Zane announces, his phone glued to his ear.

He's been our lifeline, keeping the world outside updated while we fight to keep Jordyn alive in here.

"Thank God," I breathe, though the words feel hollow.

My heart's pounding; every beat feels like it's knocking against my ribs, trying to break free.

"Stay focused," Dracus orders, though I can see the same panic in his eyes. We can't lose her. Not like this.

"Here they come," Bolt says, glancing toward the door as the wail of sirens grows louder. Relief washes over me, but it's tainted with dread. What if they're too late?

"Clear the path!" Zane shouts, running to fling open the door wider. A swarm of paramedics bursts in, tools and stretchers at the ready.

"Glass everywhere," one EMT notes, voice professional but urgent. "We need to cut her out carefully."

"Do whatever it takes," Dracus demands, stepping back but staying close, eyes never leaving Jordyn.

"Working on it," another EMT replies, pulling out a special saw, designed for precision cuts.

The machine hums to life, its blade glinting under the dim lights.

"Hold on, Jordyn," I murmur, my fingers brushing a lock of her hair away from her face. She's unconscious, thank God. She doesn't have to feel this nightmare.

"All right, boys, step back," one paramedic directs, and we all retreat just enough to give them space. They work quickly, methodically, slicing through tangled shards of glass to free her from the display case's deadly embrace.

"Keep her stable," the lead EMT instructs, his team moving like they've done this a million times before.

I watch, helpless but hopeful, praying silently that they can save her.

Minutes feel like hours, but finally, they lift her onto a stretcher, securing her in place.

The paramedics exchange terse nods, their faces set in grim determination.

"Get her to the hospital, please," Zane begs, and they don't hesitate.

As they wheel her out, I follow, my legs shaky, my mind in a whirl.

"She's in good hands now," Dracus says, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. "But we ain't done here. We'll get whoever did this."

"Hell yeah," I agree, jaw clenched. "That bastard will fuckin' suffer."

Dracus hops in beside her without a second thought, his face set like stone. "I'll ride with her," he declares, leaving no room for argument.

"Go!" I shout, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The ambulance doors slam shut, and it takes off, sirens wailing into the night.

"Shit." My breath comes in ragged gasps.

I turn to Zane, who stands there, fists clenched, eyes burning with barely contained rage.

"Who did this?" My voice is rough, nearly breaking. "Do you know who would do this to her?" Yet, the second I ask the question . . . I think I know.

Zane's jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with something dark and dangerous. "Yeah," he growls. "I have an idea."

"Then let's get him," I snap, adrenaline surging. "No one does this to one of us and walks free."

"Hold your horses, Bama," Tex warns, stepping between us. "First things first, we gotta make sure Jordyn pulls through. Then we handle business."

"He's right," Zane admits reluctantly, running a hand over his face. "Let's get to the hospital. We'll figure the rest out after."

"Fine," I grit out, mounting my bike. The engine roars to life beneath me, a sound that should be comforting but only fuels my fury.

We peel out, a convoy of vengeance on two wheels.

The ride is a blur, shadows and streetlights whizzing past. Every second feels like an eternity, every heartbeat a countdown.

I don't just want revenge. I need it. For Jordyn. For all of us.

We screech to a halt at the hospital, parking haphazardly.

I can barely keep my hands steady as I dismount, my legs feeling like jelly.

The waiting room is sterile, almost too bright, contrasting sharply with the darkness inside me.

"She's in surgery," a nurse informs us, not looking up from her clipboard. "You'll have to wait here."

"Waitin' ain't my strong suit," I mutter, pacing the small space.

Each step feels like I'm walking on broken glass, the image of Jordyn's bloodied body etched into my mind.

"Bama," Zane calls softly. I meet his gaze, seeing the same torment in his eyes that mirrors my own. "We'll find them. But right now, she needs us here."

"Yeah," I whisper, swallowing hard.

"She'll pull through. Jordyn's a strong one," Zane says, almost to himself. His eyes are hard, but there's a flicker of doubt.

"She better," I reply, fists clenching.

Jordyn's hanging by a thread, and I know it.

"Dr. Wu?" A nurse calls out as a man in scrubs steps into the waiting room, his face grim.

My heart slams against my ribs as he approaches.

"Jordyn Harold's family?" he asks, glancing at each of us.

Tex, Dracus and Bolt stand up, meeting the doctor halfway. Roxy isn't here yet, but I'm sure she'll be here any minute.

"She's still in surgery," he begins, voice steady but cold. "We have to repair multiple parts of her body. Her injuries are extensive."

"How bad?" Tex growls.

"Six broken ribs, ruptured spleen," the doctor continues, ignoring the tension crackling in the air. "We're doing everything we can."

"Fuck," I mutter, feeling my stomach twist. The room feels like it's closing in, walls pushing against me.

"How long?" Zane's voice cuts through, sharp like a blade.

"A few more hours," Dr. Wu replies, his gaze unwavering. "But we're optimistic."

"Optimistic?" I bark, fists clenching. "You optimistic enough to tell us you think she'll be fine?"

"She's in the best place she can be," the doctor insists, but it does nothing to calm the storm inside me.

"Just do your fuckin' job, Doc." Tex grumbles, fear underlying his tone.

"We are going to do everything we can. In the meantime, wait, and someone will be out to update you shortly." the doctor says, turning on his heel and walking away.

"Fuck!" I grit, punching the hard plastic chair beside me.

It barely makes a sound but my knuckles scream in pain.

Jordyn's blood, her pain, it's all I see.

My chest tightens, breaths coming short and fast.

"Calm down, Bama. Things could be worse, but that update was good. It might not seem like it, but it was." Zane murmurs, placing a hand on my shoulder.

His grip is firm, reassuring, but it isn't enough to make me relax.

"Who do you think you did this, Zane?" I ask, voice trembling with rage. "Tell me you have an idea. I think it was that slimy fuck, Blake."

"We'll talk about this shit later," he repeats, eyes steely. "At the club, in private. All we can do is focus on Jordyn right now."

"Focusing isn't doin' jack shit right now, Prez." I retort, pacing again.

The floor tiles blur beneath my feet, white and sterile, mocking me.

"She's gonna make it through this, and she's gonna need you to be strong," Zane says, his voice low. "Trust me. Women with our blood always make it through this type of shit."

"She better make it out of this," I grit out, swallowing the lump in my throat. Loyalty isn't just riding together; it's bleeding together, fighting for every breath. And right now, I feel like Jordyn's fighting alone.

Fuck, why wasn't anyone there at Tart with her?

Was there a way I could have prevented this?

"She will," Zane states, more a command than a hope.

"I hope so," I whisper, staring at the double doors that swallowed her whole.

The waiting eats at me like acid, corroding every ounce of control I have left.

"Zane, you staying here with the rest of us?" Dracus's voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

His eyes don't waver from the double doors, but I know his mind is already plotting our next move.

"Yeah," Zane replies, not missing a beat. His jaw is set, eyes fixed on the spot where Jordyn disappeared. "She's family, and we always show up for family."

"Okay," Dracus nods, then turns to me. "Bama, let's go downstairs. Get some food in you."

"I'm not really hungry," I snap, pacing again.

My boots scuff against the sterile floor, each step a reminder of how useless I feel right now.

"Didn't ask if you were hungry," Dracus says, his tone brooking no argument. "It wasn't up for discussion. Now, c'mon."

"Fuck that," I mutter, but my stomach betrays me with a low growl.

I haven't eaten since . . . hell, who knows when.

"Tex, Bolt," Dracus calls out.

The two men snap to attention, their leather cuts creaking as they move. "We're taking Bama down for a bite."

"Got it," Tex answers, his expression grim.

Bolt just nods, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Let's go," Dracus orders, and I find myself following, legs moving on autopilot.

The waiting room fades behind us, swallowed by the maze of hospital corridors.

We ride the elevator in tense silence, the hum of machinery the only sound.

My mind races, images of Jordyn's bloody body flashing like a horror reel—glass shards, blood, her lifeless face.

"Zane's right. She's gonna pull through," Tex says quietly, breaking the silence. "She's tough as nails."

"Too damn tough," Bolt adds, a rare hint of emotion in his voice.

"Yeah," I manage, though my throat feels like sandpaper. "She is."

The elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal the cafeteria.

It's bright, too bright, the smell of food hitting me like a punch to the gut.

My stomach churns, but I follow them inside.

"Sit," Dracus commands, pointing to a table in the corner.

I drop into a chair, the cold metal biting through my jeans.

They head to the counter, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Minutes stretch like hours until they return, trays laden with greasy burgers and fries.

The sight makes my gut twist, but I reach for a burger anyway, if only to keep my hands busy.

"Eat," Dracus says, watching me closely. "You need your strength."

"Strength for what?" I mutter around a mouthful of lukewarm beef. "Sittin' on my ass while Jordyn fights for her life?"

"Strength to be there for her," Bolt interjects, his gaze piercing. "In situations like this, you might think you're not doin' much. But you bein' here for her means a lot. Trust me, we all went through shit with Roxy, and with Kat."

"Yeah," Tex agrees, cramming fries into his mouth. "And you need your strength to find the fucker who did this."

"Oh, I'm not lettin' him get away with this," I growl, clenching my fist so hard the knuckles turn white. "I'm damn sure Blake did this."

"We'll find out when Jordyn gets out of surgery, or from the security cameras at Tart," Dracus says, his voice a steady anchor. "First, we need to make sure she's okay. Then we handle business."

"Right," I say, forcing another bite down. The burger tastes like ash, but I swallow it anyway. For Jordyn. For the club. For vengeance.

"When are Roxy and Nova getting here?" I murmur, curious to know why they haven't been here yet.

My heart pounds with a mix of fear and fury.

"In an hour or so." Tex replies.

"Good, she'd want them here." I reply, rising to my feet.

Together, we head back to the waiting room, ready for whatever comes next.

God, I need her to make it through this.

We weave through the sterile maze of the hospital, fluorescent lights flickering overhead like they're mocking us.

My boots echo against the linoleum, each step a reminder that Jordyn's life hangs by a thread.

"She has to pull through," I mutter under my breath, but loud enough for Tex to hear.

"She will," he replies, almost like he's convincing himself too. "Jordyn's tougher than she looks."

"Wish I could believe that," I admit. My fists clench and unclench, itching for something—anything—to hit.

"Hey," Bolt says, slowing down to match my pace. "You got heart, kid. More than most."

"Thanks," I say, though the word feels hollow.

We reach the waiting room, and the air is thick with tension. Zane's pacing, his face a mask of barely-contained fury.

He stops when he sees us, eyes locking onto mine.

"Any news?" I ask, voice tight.

"Not yet," he grits out. "But, I'm sure we're going to hear something soon."

"I hope so," I reply, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders.

I glance at Jordyn's fathers—Dracus, Bolt, Tex—and realize something. These men, for all their rough edges, care about her as much as I do. Maybe more.

"Listen," Dracus begins, his voice softer now. "We see how you are with Jordyn. How much you care."

"You're different," Bolt continues.

"And different is good," Dracus says, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. "Because if anyone can help her through this, it's gonna be you."

"I'm gonna be here for her," I vow, my voice low but unwavering. "Every damn step."