As Sinclair’s face dropped, Wyatt smirked and tossed his gun onto the ground. He stepped back, holding his hands up to let Alan take control of the situation. Alan dipped his hand into his pocket, checking the signal on his phone.

It had returned.

He watched his screen in hope for a message from Sam, but it didn’t arrive. All he received was the unmistakable feeling of a gun being pressed to the back of his head.

‘Toss the phone, vato,’ Raul hissed as he stepped out behind Alan. ‘And the gun.’

Alan did as he was told, and Raul looked out to the forecourt and the chaos that had erupted in his absence. Sinclair was bleeding on the ground, begging for help. Alex stood with Wyatt, whose eyes darted to the weapon he’d foolishly discarded.

Vasquez lay dead on the ground between them all.

Raul felt his body shake. The vision of his cousin Jose, who had built an empire and a life beyond their wildest dreams, being shot and killed like a wild animal filled him with rage.

Raul was in charge now.

And, staring at the open, vacant eyes of his cousin’s corpse, Raul promised him he would avenge his death with the same brutality with which they’d built their empire.

Starting with Alan.

Raul steadied his arm and pressed his finger to the trigger.

Alan accepted his fate.

Alex screamed in terror at the imminent death of the man who had risked his life to save her.

All of them were so transfixed on the situation before them that none of them had noticed Sam hobble through the gap of the panelled fence.

Ignoring the bodies that littered the forecourt, Sam watched Raul lift the gun to Alan, and he followed in turn. With his broken left hand supporting the gun, Sam drew the weapon to his eyeline and pulled the trigger.

The bullet erupted, followed by the loud clap as it exploded forward.

Before anyone had registered the gunshot, the bullet caught Raul in the throat, sending him spiralling to the ground, both hands uselessly clutching his neck as his life filtered out between his fingers in an unstoppable red wave.

Alan looked down at the fallen man in shock, then every diverted their attention across the forecourt.

Sam lowered his gun.

Alex was already racing towards him, her tear-stained face illuminated by the sheer joy that spread across it. Behind him, he heard the engines of the motorcycles shut down as the Riders dismounted their bikes.

Sam looked up at the sky, the heat of the sun pressing firmly against him.

For the first time in what had felt like forever, he finally felt like his fight was over.

Chapter Twenty-Eight