Shots cracked through the yard like thunder splitting dry wood. Brothers dove for cover as engines roared to life in chaotic bursts. The sharp tang of gunpowder mixed with the metallic bite of fear and the ever-present smell of grease and leather.
I lunged for the notebook, fingers closing around the worn leather just as Jax grabbed my arm and yanked me behind a row of bikes.
“Stay down!” he ordered, voice sharp and commanding.
Knox fired back toward the tree line, movements raw and impulsive. “Come on, you cowards!” he shouted.
Ryder crouched beside me, one hand pressed tightly over his fresh bandage. His breathing came uneven, but his eyes stayed sharp. “They’re testing us,” he murmured. “Not a full assault.”
The gunfire faded fast. Tires spun on gravel. The Shadow Reapers melted ba
