Page 138 of Creed

“We have a fucking problem.”

I’m running after a frantic Asher as he shoves his way past the stage crew and toward the exit.

“Where the fuck are they?” I call after him but he doesn’t answer. He’s got his gun drawn and his team surrounds us as we weave our way through the buses.

My heart is beating out of my chest but it stops cold when we reach our bus. I shove to the front of the group and pause next to Asher. There’s a half-naked body slumped on the ground and a hole in his skull, right in the middle of his forehead. It’s Jones. His lifeless eyes stare up at nothing and it’s fucking horrifying.

Asher curses and turns to bark something at one of his men. I don’t hear what he says and I don’t even have time to process the fact that a man is dead because I notice that the bus door is also hanging wide open. I barrel towards it, uncaring that my best friend is yelling for me to stop and let them sweep the area.

I’m stopped in my tracks once more and I feel the blood drain from my face as I take in the state of the bus. There’s broken glass and blood everywhere. Cushions from the couches are torn and shredded, and the place looks like it’s been turned upside down. Then I see a spilled bag of m&m’s on the floor, the candies scattered and lying in a smear of blood.

I feel dizzy. My lungs squeeze and my stomach churns as I take everything in. My brain finally catches up and has me screaming out for Collins and Riley. Asher tries to snatch my arm as I move for the back of the bus.

“Creed, fucking wait!” He tries, sounding as panicked as I am, but his warning falls on deaf ears as I shake out of his hold.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.

The words play on repeat in my head as I frantically check the back room to find it empty. As are the bathroom and bunks. I’m shaking as I keep yelling for them, like this is a fucking terrible joke and they’ll pop out and yell that they got me.

I think I’m becoming delirious as I call out for them because I don’t notice Asher fucking shaking the shit out of me until I feel his slap land against my cheek.

I blink, turning my furious eyes on him. “Where the fuck are they, Asher?” I say, pure venom bleeding into the quiet of my voice. “She was supposed to be fucking safe! You said she was safe and I swore I’d protect her and she’s not. Fucking. Here! Where the fuck are Collins and Riley, Asher?!” I’m screaming at him but Asher’s face remains neutral and calm.

It pisses me off more. How the fuck does he look so unaffected when it looks like a murder scene in here? I swing at him and my fist connects with his jaw. He barely moves and he just lets it happen.

He rubs at the bruise already forming on his face and levels me with a glare. “That will only happen once.” He swipes at the small trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. “I let you get that hit in because I need you to be focused. We need to check the CCTV footage to try and gather what the fuck happened and where they went.”

I let his words seep in before nodding reluctantly.

We’re supposed to start performing in ten minutes, but I don’t give a shit. Apparently, Blair and Bear share the same sentiment. Blair has this murderous glint in his eyes as he crouches down, looking intently at something on the floor before he snaps something at the security guard behind him. Bear looks like he’s going to be sick.

His voice is rough, sounding like it's been raked through hot coals when he tells us that he has Ayla holed up on his bus, the vehicle surrounded by security.

Asher has one of his men announce the cancellation of the concert tonight since we no longer have a manager.

The four of us are crowded around Asher’s laptop on Blair’s bus with Lachlan on speakerphone. He called, cursing in both English and Gaelic and absolutely fucking fuming over the fact that someone had slipped past his security team and technology.

We’re watching the shared screen as Lachlan rewinds the footage until we see when Jones took up his post outside of the bus. He starts to fast forward, showing when Riley and I left. Jones’ eyes never stop scanning the area.

We watch as Jones jerks in surprise, then draws his gun. A weird sound fills the speakers of the laptop at the same time Jones’ head snaps back and his body falls in a heap on the ground with a hole between his eyes. Lachlan curses on the other side of the phone as he skips past where a large, oddly familiar man makes quick work of undressing Jones and slips his uniform shirt on. He scans the area before dragging Jones around the corner before returning to the door. He makes quick work of picking the lock and slips onto the bus. The door is still wide open but it’s quiet for a minute before I hear the soft, muffled rasp of Collins questioning the invader.

I feel like I’m going to fucking puke when the crashing noises start, and her cries fill the speakers. This goes on for several minutes as my girl fights against this attacker. The man shouts something I can’t understand before I hear Collins cry out in pain, then silence.

I feel sick to my stomach because I would rather hear her alive and fighting than her silence.

A few seconds later, Riley rounds the corner and pauses when he sees the door to the bus standing wide open. The image is a little grainy, but you can’t miss the concern and fear smothering his face before he dashes up the steps. He says something, followed up with a shouted “what the fuck”, but it’s cut off by the sound of a gunshot. Followed by the barely visible image of Riley’s body hitting the ground.

“No!” I yell out, ready to send my fist through the screen but Blair is there with a hand on my shoulder.

“We need to get a positive ID on him and figure out where the fuck he went and if he’s got both Riley and Collins.”

I don’t know how the fuck he’s so calm when his sister—my girl—was taken from us. Again. And this time, I think she’s in more danger than ever.

I watch with a heavy feeling in my gut as this motherfucker hauls Collins out of the bus, griping about needing to come back for Riley and delivering them both to him. I know exactly who he’s talking about and I’m feeling extra murderous now.

Lachlan flips through the cameras until we get to a clear view of his blacked-out car that blends in with the other security vehicles and tosses her into the trunk like she’s nothing more than an inanimate object. When he turns to face the camera and heads back to the tour bus, it hits me.

He’s the guy I’ve seen several times now at the signings after the show. The one who claimed he wanted things signed for his sick daughter. It was odd because he always seemed more interested in Collins’ performances than the music we’d performed.

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