Teller’s feeling well enough to poke Murphy in the side. “Muscle weighs more than fat. Shouldn’t you of all people know that?”

“Shut your mouths and keep moving!” I snap.

Murphy glances at me. “Are we clear?”

“I don’t know. Let’s get him to the truck. Cut through the woods. I’ve got your back.”

The situation with the building isn’t getting any less intense. It’s a roaring inferno now. Orange flames lick the dark sky, lighting up the surrounding area. Metal creaks and groans.

More bullets thwack into the trees as we race by them.

Steer reaches us and helps Murphy carry Teller. I drop down and jam a new magazine into my gun, not that it’s going to do me much good when I can’t even see who I’m shooting at. But we can only dodge the bullets for so long before one ends up hitting something vital. Teller’s already taken a hit, I won’t have any more of my brothers get hurt.

I scan the area for anything out of the ordinary. Any movement.

Nothing.

The gunfire has stopped as well.

Maybe they’re done and took off. Maybe they’re reloading. I don’t plan to stick around to find out.

Turning, I jump up and race over the uneven ground until I catch Steer.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Waiting for us,” he answers over his shoulder.

At our vehicles, the guys are tense and waiting.

Once I’m sure Murphy has Teller safely inside my truck, I slam the back door and turn to the rest of the guys. “Take it slow. Cops and fire department are probably on their way. Don’t give anyone a reason to pull us over.” My gaze strays to Shadow. “Are you okay to ride?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He scowls toward the fire. “No one came out of the building.”

“Two cars whizzed by right before I saw the first flames,” Grip says.

“Any bikes?”

“Not that I saw. And I heard the pack that went in not long after you guys left.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“What the fuck, Prez?” Rooster says once we’re in my truck.

I squint out the windshield, watching Shadow for signs he’s not okay to ride. We need to get clear of this place now. “Shadow all right, you think?”

“He’s gonna wish he was dead,” Murphy growls from behind me. “I’m gonna gut him for getting Teller shot.”

I glance sideways at Rooster. “Easy, brother,” I warn Murphy.

“I’m with the ginger.” Rooster shakes his head. “This whole night is bullshit.”

I glance into the back of the van. “He all right?”

“He’s bleeding a lot. Teller’s always gotta be a showoff.” The tension in Murphy’s voice betrays the joke.