Her Reckoning
The truck sat crooked off the shoulder, its headlights throwing long, sickly beams across the scrub.
Rhett’s chest rose and fell, breath ragged, the gun still hot in his hand. He swept his gaze over the wreckage, counting bodies, counting breaths, making sure none of his brothers were bleeding out in the dirt. Hawk was on his feet, spitting curses as he reloaded. Tank loomed near the rig, shotgun leveled at the cab. Ghost stood still as stone, pale eyes cutting through the dark, his pistol steady.
Two Serpents were alive enough to kneel, hands bound behind their backs, blood streaking their faces. A third crawled, one leg bent wrong, breath bubbling wet in his chest. Hawk kicked him over, pr
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