Blood at the mill

Hazel’s foot froze mid-step. The old mill loomed behind King like a rotting skeleton, moonlight slicing through broken windows. Twenty-plus Vipers had guns trained on them. The air smelled of rust, river water, and gun oil.

Jax’s hand clamped down on her shoulder like a vise, yanking her back against his chest. “Stay fucking put,” he growled into her ear, low enough for only her to hear.

King’s smile widened, all teeth and menace. He was taller than she expected, lean muscle wrapped in a scarred leather cut, a snake tattoo curling up his neck. His eyes dragged over her like he was already imagining peeling her out of the PROPERTY OF REAPER vest.

Tyler stood beside King, that nervous twitch gone, replaced by a smug little grin that made Hazel want to vomit.

“Tyler?” Jax’s voice was ice. “You got something to say, prospect?”

“Had to pick a side, Reaper,” Tyler shrugged. “King pays better. And he don’t make me scrub floors and kiss his ass for two years.”

Dagger shifted beside them, bleeding but steady, hand hovering near his piece. The rest of the Iron Sons—maybe twelve total—formed a loose line behind Jax. Outnumbered two to one.

King laughed, low and wet. “Simple trade, Reaper. The girl for your little mechanic. She comes to me right now, on her knees like this one—” he nudged Lena with his boot, “—and everybody rides home breathing. Mostly.”

Lena looked up. Her left eye was swollen shut, lip split, blood crusted down her chin. When her gaze met Hazel’s, something shattered in Hazel’s chest.

“I’m here,” Hazel called again, voice steadier than she felt. “Let her go. This isn’t her fight.”

King tilted his head. “Oh, she’s got fire. I like that. Come take her place, sweetheart. I’ll even let your friend crawl away. But you? You’re gonna learn what a real president does with pretty things who run their mouth.”

Jax’s grip tightened painfully. Through the earpiece he’d given her, she heard his low, furious breathing.

“Don’t you fucking move,” he whispered.

Hazel’s ankle knife pressed against her skin like a reminder. She took another half-step anyway.

That was all it took.

Tyler reached for his gun first—idiot move. Jax moved like lightning. One shot cracked the night, deafening. Tyler’s head snapped back, a red mist exploding behind him. He dropped like a sack of meat.

Chaos erupted.

Gunfire tore across the clearing. Hazel screamed as Jax shoved her behind his bike, bullets pinging off metal. She hit the dirt hard, tasting blood where she bit her tongue.

“Stay down!” Jax roared.

She peeked around the tire. Lena was scrambling toward her on all fours, legs weak. A Viper grabbed for her. Lena bit his hand like a wild animal.

More shots. A big Iron Sons prospect—Hazel didn’t even know his name—jerked violently as two bullets punched through his chest. He stumbled, coughed blood, and fell.

“Jax!” Hazel yelled.

He was already moving, firing with deadly calm. Dagger took down two Vipers in quick succession. The night became strobing muzzle flashes and screams.

Hazel’s hand went to the knife at her ankle. Fuck this. She wasn’t going to die on her knees.

She crawled out, low and fast, toward Lena. Dirt kicked up inches from her face as a bullet missed. Her heart slammed so hard she thought it would burst.

“Lena! Come on!”

Their eyes locked. Lena pushed up, limping desperately. Ten feet. Eight. Hazel reached out—

A gunshot rang out, different from the others. Sharp. Close.

Lena cried out and crumpled. Blood bloomed high on her left thigh.

“No!” Hazel lunged forward, grabbing her friend under the arms. Lena was heavy, dead weight, sobbing through gritted teeth. “I got you—I got you—”

Strong hands seized Hazel from behind. Jax. He hauled both women back toward the bikes like they weighed nothing, bullets still flying.

“Cover us!” he bellowed.

Dagger and two others laid down suppressing fire. An engine roared to life—the van they’d brought as backup. Jax threw Lena into the open side door, then practically tossed Hazel in after her.

“Go! Go! Go!”

Tires spun on gravel. Hazel pressed both hands over Lena’s thigh, blood pulsing hot between her fingers. Lena’s face was paper-white, eyes wide with shock.

“You stupid bitch,” Lena gasped, voice breaking. “You and your fucking fantasies—”

“I know. I know. Stay with me.” Tears blurred Hazel’s vision. She ripped off the bottom of her shirt and tied it tight around Lena’s leg. The fabric soaked through instantly.

Outside the van, bikes screamed alongside them. Jax rode right beside the open door, one hand on the throttle, the other holding his gun, firing back at the pursuing Vipers.

Hazel looked at him through the chaos. His face was splattered with blood—Tyler’s, probably. His eyes met hers for one second. No apology. Just raw, savage possession.

He’d killed Tyler without blinking. Executed him in front of everyone like it was Tuesday.

This wasn’t fantasy anymore. This was real blood. Real bodies dropping.

The van bounced hard over a pothole. Lena screamed. Hazel kept pressure on the wound, whispering useless shit—“You’re gonna be okay, we’re almost back, just breathe”—while her mind spun.

King’s voice kept echoing. Come to me willingly.

Tyler’s head exploding.

The nameless prospect collapsing like his strings were cut.

All because she’d joked about wanting to be kidnapped and fucked for sixty days.

The compound gates finally appeared ahead, lit up like a fortress. The van skidded through. Jax roared in right behind them, killing his engine and storming over before the wheels stopped.

He yanked the van door wider. “Out. Now.”

Hazel’s arms were covered in Lena’s blood up to the elbows. She could barely feel her hands.

Dagger limped up, supporting another bleeding brother. “We lost Roach. Two more hit. This is fucked, Prez.”

Jax didn’t look away from Hazel. “Get Lena to the doc. Now.”

Club girls and prospects swarmed the van. Tiffany was there, eyes wide for once. The older woman from earlier helped lift Lena. Hazel tried to follow but Jax grabbed her wrist, dragging her aside.

She shoved him hard in the chest. “Don’t touch me right now!”

His jaw flexed. Blood streaked down his arm where the old wound had reopened. “You almost got yourself killed out there.”

“Lena got shot because of me!” Her voice cracked. “Tyler— you just… you shot him in the head, Jax. Like it was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” He stepped closer, voice dropping. “He sold us out. He would’ve handed you to King without blinking. You think King would’ve been gentle?”

Hazel’s stomach heaved. She turned away, sucking in night air that still smelled like gunpowder.

Jax grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. His thumb smeared blood across her jaw—hers, Lena’s, Tyler’s, she didn’t know anymore.

“You wanted this,” he said, dark and rough. “You said sixty days. You think this life is all dirty talk and hard dick? This is it, Hazel. Blood and bodies. And you’re in it now.”

She slapped his hand away, chest heaving.

“I hate you,” she whispered. It didn’t feel like a lie.

Jax’s eyes flashed. For a second she thought he might kiss her or fuck her right there against the van. Instead he leaned in until his forehead almost touched hers.

“Good. Hate me all you want. But you’re mine. And after tonight, King’s not stopping until one of us is dead.”

Behind them, Lena screamed again as they carried her inside. The sound cut through Hazel like a fresh bullet.

Jax released her and stepped back, already turning toward his men. “Church in ten. We hit them back at dawn.”

Hazel stood there shaking, covered in blood, the PROPERTY OF REAPER vest heavy on her shoulders. The gates were closing. The war had just begun.

And somewhere in the distance, she could’ve sworn she heard motorcycles circling like vultures.

She wasn’t getting out in sixty days.

She wasn’t sure she was getting out at all.