Page 90 of Twisted Steel

“No.Unless we’re repairing a pipe.”

“Worth asking.”

A bullet hits the bar above us, and Tyler screams.Raven swears and fires back without looking nearly enough for my comfort.

A man crashes through the back door, a Broken Vultures patch on his cut.He raises his weapon toward me, and the world slows.

I see the muzzle and feel Tyler’s blood.Raven twists toward him, but she is too far away.Mama M turns toward us from the kitchen.

My hands locked on the wound, I can’t move without Tyler bleeding out.

The gunman smiles right before his head jerks sideways.A red bloom opens at his temple, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.I look up, my ears ringing.

Steel stands in the broken doorway.Covered in blood.

Not from one place.Not from one man.Blood spatters his face, darkens his shirt, coats one hand around the gun still aimed where the Vulture fell.

For one second, all I feel is relief, but then he moves, and the relief turns into horror.Another Vulture lunges behind him.

Steel turns, catches him by the throat, and drives him into the wall so hard that framed pictures fall.The man claws at his arm, but Steel doesn’t blink.He slams him again.Once.Twice.The third time, something cracks loud enough to cut through the gunfire.

“Steel!”I shout.

He doesn’t hear me, or he does and can’t stop.The man falls back against the wall, choking.

Steel pulls a knife from his belt, and my stomach falls through the floor.

The Vulture raises one bloody hand.“Please...”

Steel drives the blade up beneath his ribs.No hesitation.No mercy.No space between threat and death.The man collapses at his feet, and I freeze with Tyler’s blood under my hands.

This is not the ambulance bay.Not the fire escape.Not a warning delivered in bruises and broken bones.This is death at arm’s length.

This is Steel doing what Steel does.And God help me, he does it well.

The remaining attackers break away after that, and Sons flood the room.Savage appears at the front entrance with Saint and Fury, all weapons and rage, cutting off the retreat.The compound becomes noisy again.Orders.Curses.Men dragged down.A final gunshot outside.

Then silence.

Tyler moans under my hands and the world snaps back.“Tourniquet!”I scream.

Someone finally throws me one.I wrap it high and tight, twisting until Tyler cries out and the bleeding slows.

“Good,” I tell him, though my voice sounds far away.“That’s good.Stay with me.”

Raven appears beside me again, blood running from a slice on her upper arm.

“You’re hit,” I say.

“So is everyone.Triage me later, Florence Nightingale.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“You’re busy.”

“I hate you a little.”

“That’s bonding.”