Calla’s POV

We had just finished raising our glasses in a toast to our survival, drinking whiskey that tasted more like gasoline—apparently the only type Jake believed in having stocked—when Rico burst through the clubhouse door with an intensity that instantly put everyone on edge.

“Boss,” he said, slightly out of breath as if he’d been running. “We found someone. Around the back by the dumpsters. She’s unconscious, naked, and looks like she’s been through hell.”

Kane ...