The headstone took the second shot, chipping stone into my hair.
I pressed flat against the ground, heart slamming, the ledger digging into my ribs through my jacket. Beside me, Knox had his pistol up, breathing hard through his teeth.
"Two trucks," he said. "Maybe six men."
Jax's voice cut through the dark from somewhere to my left. "Bear, you hit?"
"Still breathing," Bear called back, though his voice shook.
Ryder was closest to me, pressed against the same headstone, his shoulder hard against mine. He didn't reach for me this time. His eyes were fixed on the treeline, counting muzzle flashes. "They're spreading out. Trying to flank the graves."
Another round cracked past us, close enough that I felt the air move.
"We can't hold this position," Jax said. "Bikes are twenty yards be
