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"Audra?" The world narrows to a single point of pure terror. "Audra?!"

I shake her gently, then harder, my hand cradles the back of her head. Her face is pale, her lips are slightly parted, turning blue, and blood from the split lip still glistens. No response. Nothing.

"What the fuck—" My head is still pounding like a motherfucker from the graze, my vision swimming at the edges, but none of that matters. Only her. Always her.

I glare at Alessio, accusation blazing in my eyes. "Was she hit? Did one of those bastards shoot her?"

He drops to a knee beside us, hands already moving over her, checking for wounds. He shakes his head quickly. "I don't think so. No entry wounds I can see."

We both look closer. Fuck.

She's bleeding badly, not just from the raw gashes where the zip ties cut into her wrists and ankles. She fought like a wildcat, tearing her own skin open in her desperation to get free. But there's more.

"Shit, she must have cut herself with the knife," Alessio curses.

"What knife?" I bark.

"The knife she used to cut her ties. She told me to check on you, and she cut herself loose."

Shocked, I stare at him. "And you listened to her? What the fuck?" But then common sense kicks back in. We have more important things to deal with besides Alessio's fucked up sense of priorities.

I stare at the long, ugly gash that runs along her left forearm, straight and vicious. Blood is pumping out in a steady, terrifying flow, soaking through the shirt I bought her and pooling on the concrete beneath us.

"She's bleeding out!" The words rip from my throat, raw and desperate. My head feels like it's been split open by a bulldozer, pain radiates with every heartbeat, but I don't give a single fuck. Audra is all that exists.

"Here—" Alessio yanks off his belt and hands it to me. I wrap it around her upper arm as a makeshift tourniquet, cinching it tight with shaking hands. The bleeding slows but doesn't stop completely. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

"We need to get her to the doctor. Now."

I look around wildly for Brick—he always carries that clotting powder in his kit—but Brick is gone. Dead on the floorsomewhere in another slaughterhouse. The realization hits like another bullet. "Fuck."

My legs are wobbly when I try to stand, and the room tilts hard. Alessio reaches for Audra. "Let me carry her?—"

I nearly take his head off, snarling like a wounded animal. "Don't you fucking touch her."

He backs off instantly, hands raised. "My car's outside. Let's move."

I cradle her against my chest like she's made of glass and fire at the same time. Her head lolls against my shoulder, copper hair matted with sweat and blood. She's so pale. Too pale.

Alessio leads the way through the carnage. Bodies everywhere, Razor's men, the Collector's plants, all of them cut down in the crossfire. I barely notice. My entire world is the woman bleeding out in my arms.

"You were busy," I press out.

He shrugs as we step over another corpse. "Somebody had to make sure you'd live. You didn't exactly give me much time…"

He had returned my missed calls while I was already on my way to the clubhouse. I almost ignored it and kept driving. But at the last second, I pulled over, my jaw tight enough to crack teeth, grabbed a burner from the glove compartment, and stepped out onto the shoulder.

I wasn't about to take any chances. Not then. Not with her. I didn't trust the car. I didn't trust my phone. I didn't trust my men. Not even Kale.

He picked up right away and went straight to the point of his call, "Gabe, I'm at the MC's clubhouse. They brought Audra in, do you?—"

"Stay where you are," I cut him off. "Don't move. I'm on my way."

"They took her to Razor's office, Gabe," Alessio said in a tight voice. "This isn't good."

No shit. I dragged in a slow breath, forcing my mind to catch up with what my instincts already knew.

"I know exactly where they dragged her," I snapped, kicking a rock hard enough to slam into my car. "And if you go in there, you'll get her killed."