Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(104)

I tried to move again, feeling disoriented. My head pounded like a bitch, but I think the rest of me was in one piece.

Physically, at least.

Then it hit me. What happened. Why I was lying on the concrete with Gabriel leaning over me, panic on his face.

I struggled to get up, my ears still ringing.

Gabriel stopped my motion, his mouth moving again.

I kept struggling, gazing past his face. There was black smoke and flames rising from the remains of Rosie’s car. People were running around everywhere; it was like watching a silent movie, the chaos on mute. I couldn’t see past the smoke and debris. Couldn’t see Rosie. Or Lucy.

They had been right beside me. Or where I was seconds before. Now it looked like I was a good five feet away from my previous spot.

“Let me up,” I snapped, my voice not sounding right in my head.

Then in a soft pop, sound came back in, more grating and painful than the ringing. People were yelling, one in particular.

“Stay the f*ck down, Becky,” Gabriel growled. “I don’t know what other injuries you’ve got, and I’m not lettin’ you hurt yourself.”

I kept struggling. “Other injuries?” I repeated, my ears still ringing. “I don’t have any. I’m fine. Where’s Rosie and Lucy? Are they okay?”

“Stop,” he commanded, taking my neck in his hands. “Babe. You are injured. Stop movin’ so I can put some pressure on that.”

I stared at him. He wasn’t looking into my eyes, but at my forehead. “What?”

I answered my own question as warm liquid trickled down the side of my face and I put my hand up to my cheek. It came back red.

“Oh,” I said, vacantly.

“Yeah,” he clipped. “Now tell me, you hurt anywhere else? You can feel all your toes?” His gaze flickered down my body.

I followed it, taking stock with my mind. My cropped white shirt was no longer white and it was streaked with black marks. There was a rip in my jeans and one of my sneakers was missing.

“These are my favorite jeans,” I moaned. “Where’s my shoe?”

He frowned at me.

Before he could say anything, Gage crouched beside him, his usually emotionless face showing a twinge of something.

Concern, maybe.

Or, more unsettling, fear.

“She okay?” he clipped, his eyes running over my body much in the same way Gabriel’s had.

“I lost my shoe,” I answered before Gabriel could.

His jaw was hard as he turned to Gage. “I think she’s got a concussion,” he said, gathering me gently in his arms.

Everything spun as I was lifted and could view the carnage. “Rosie,” I said, my voice panicked. “Lucy, are they okay?”

Gage nodded. “Banged up, but Cade’s got Rosie and Keltan tore away with Lucy to the hospital before we could f*ckin’ blink.”

My heart dropped. “Hospital?” I repeated, my mouth full of ash.

He nodded again, his face grim. “She’ll be fine. Broken wrist, most likely.”

He moved with us as men ran with guns out and sirens sounded in the distance.

Gage regarded me. “Could have been worse. Much worse. If it weren’t for you.”

Gabriel’s arms tightened around me.

“How’d you know?” Gage continued, his voice flat, not accusing, not curious, not anything.

Gabriel’s head whipped to his friend. “Jesus, brother. You save the interrogation for when my woman isn’t f*ckin’ bleeding from a head wound,” he growled.

Gage didn’t react to the rage, just nodded. “Not blamin’ her,” he clarified.

We made it into the club room which was full of people. There was no party in sight. It was a strange mix of chaos and stillness. Gwen and Amy’s eyes bulged at the sight of me, and Lily jumped from Asher’s side.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she chanted. “Bex? Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

I nodded, still confused and unable to properly grasp the thoughts bouncing around in my brain. The motion hurt, a lot. “I’m fine,” I said slowly, slurring my words slightly. “My jeans aren’t.” I wiggled my toe. “And I don’t know where my shoe is.”

“Jesus,” Gabriel gritted through clenched teeth. “Someone find Becky’s f*ckin’ shoe,” he ordered to no one in particular.

Then he set me down on the sofa, which a few people were crowded around.

A dazed-looking Rosie was sitting in a chair, Cade crouched in front of her, his jaw hard and his hand on her neck.

Her eyes focused on me, and then they widened. “Bex,” she said, trying to get up. Cade stopped her and she glared at him. “You’re bleeding. That is not cool, dude. Not cool.”

“I know,” I agreed. “And I ripped my jeans.”

“Bummer.” She frowned down at her feet. “I think I may have ruined your boots.”

I shrugged. “No big. I needed a new pair anyway.”

“Can we stop talkin’ about f*ckin’ clothes and let me f*ckin’ look at your head wound?” Gabriel roared, making me jump.

“Ouch,” I muttered, putting my hand to my head.

His face softened immediately. “Shit, sorry, baby. Just let me look, okay?”