Ripper’s Redemption (REAPERS REJECTS MC: SECOND GENERATION #2) by Elizabeth Knox EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Elizabeth Knox
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Ripper
The phone buzzes in my pocket, a sharp vibration against my thigh.
I yank it out, glancing at the screen—Stiletto. She never calls me,
always texts, and my pulse quickens.
“Ripper,” she says, her voice taut with panic. “Bama’s been shot.”
“Where?” The word comes out harsher than I intend, but there’s no time
to waste.
“On the outskirts of town, near the old mill,” she replies, her breath
hitching. “He’s bleeding really bad. I don’t know what the fuck to do,
Ripper. Can you get here fast? Please?”
“Hang tight. I’m on my way.” I end the call and shove the phone back
into my pocket, my mind racing.
My bike roars to life beneath me, the engine vibrating through my bones
as I tear down the highway. I’m riding like a bat out of hell, trying to get
there as fast as I can.
The wind whips against my face, each gust like a needle prick on my
skin, but I barely register it.
All I can think about is Bama lying somewhere, bleeding
uncontrollably.
The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the asphalt.
The smell of pine and dust fills my nostrils, mingling with the faint
scent of gasoline.
Every second feels like an eternity, every mile a lifetime.
I push the bike harder, the world blurring around me as I drive faster
than I ever have in my entire life.
Finally, I see the old mill up ahead, its rusted frame a skeletal silhouette
against the darkening sky.
I ride around the building and finally spot Stiletto’s figure hunched over
a form on the ground.
My heart lurches at the sight. She looks up for a split second, panic and
fear covering her features.
I skid to a stop, gravel spitting out from under my tires.
I leap off the bike and rush over.
Stiletto looks up at me, terrified beyond belief.
She’s pressing down on Bama’s stomach, blood seeping through her
fingers.
“It was The Commander,” she breathes out, her voice trembling. “He
was sending a fuckin’ message.”
“Motherfucker,” I mutter, dropping to my knees beside them.
Bama’s face is pale, his breaths shallow. But he’s still alive—thank
God.
“Hang in there, brother,” I whisper, gripping his hand.
The warmth of his blood coats my fingers, a stark reminder of how
fragile this all is. “We’re gonna get you outta this. You’re gonna be fine,
you hear me?”
“Ripper . . .” Bama’s voice is weak, barely more than a rasp.
His grip tightens on my hand, almost like a silent plea or like he’s trying
to tell me how scared he is.
“Stay with me,” I say, my voice firm. “You hear me? You stay with me.”
You’re not gonna die.”
Stiletto nods, her jaw set in determination.
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