Page 71 of Unmasking Mayhem
But that's okay.
She's okay.
She's safe.
Most importantly, she's coming home.
After planning a time and place to pick her up, Raze hangs up the phone and yanks me to my feet, literally dragging me down the sidewalk toward Club Mayhem. Both of us are too stunned to speak, so we run—we run like children in the snow, excitement coursing through us that slightly masks the pain I still feel. But I'm happy. This is a happy moment, and I'll be fucking damned if I let my demons get the best of me.
They will not win tonight.
The cold, wet snow splashes against our shoes as we sprint down the street, navigating the familiar path we took countless times before. Every step feels lighter, infused with hope,and I can hardly recognize the feeling after everything that’s happened. The city, once cloaked in shadows and doubt, now sparkles as the streetlights dance off the fresh snow. As we reach Club Mayhem, the familiar sight of its chaotic energy fills me with a sense of purpose. I inhale deeply, letting the surrounding sounds drown out the chaos in my head.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper to myself, though Raze keeps shooting me glances, his brow furrowed, perhaps worried I’ll slip back into my spiral.
“Just focus—get what we need and get out,” he advises, urgency in his voice.
He seems to feel my tension, always one step ahead of me. Inside, the music thrums against my chest, a heartbeat of its own in the pulsing atmosphere. I scan the crowd, and D catches my eye.
“Let’s get a car and get the fuck outta here,” I say, though I can feel that nagging sliver of anxiety creeping back into my mind.
Raze nods, already moving toward the bar. I follow, but my feet feel like they’re anchored to the ground. The laughter and cheers of dancers swirl around me, a vivid reminder of the disconnect I felt when Whitney was gone. While Raze orders cold beers for the road—something I haven’t tasted in a long while—my gaze drifts around the room. I catch sight of familiar faces, some weary and masked like mine, others glowing under the neon lights, completely untouched by the worries that plague me. It’s then that I spot King, slumped in a corner booth, a shadow of his former self, staring out the window with a gaze that seems lost in another world.
I can’t help but feel a mix of sympathy and disdain. After all the havoc he wreaked on our lives, there’s something pitiful about his current state. But seeing him also stirs something deeper inside me—an unwillingness to let my doubts seep back in. I shake my head, focusing again on the task at hand.
“Hawk?” Raze nudges me, snapping me back to reality. “We have to move. You good?” He dangles keys from his fingers and nods back at D, relief gleaming in his eyes.
“Yeah. Just… thinking. Let’s go,” I reply, pushing past King’s chaos as we head toward the door.
Every second that passes until we reach Whitney feels like an eternity, but I know I have no room for doubt anymore. We bolt through the parking lot, the snow crunching beneath us, and hop into one of D's older racing cars, the engine rumbling to life as the warmth seeps through the cold metal. Raze flips through the glove compartment, searching for whatever weapon there might be. His fingers graze over a chrome pistol, and he grins as he shuts the compartment.
“Alright, we've definitely got enough cash to get us there and back, and enough protection... just in case... I think,” he says, pocketing the live rounds that were loose under the pistol. "I’m not going to let anyone get in our way."
As Raze navigates us out of the city, a sense of urgency grips me. Each passing landmark reminds me of the struggle we endured, the battles we fought, and now… hope? It was unfamiliar, like a thread running through a tapestry woven with fucking darkness.
“Do you think she’s okay?” I ask, breaking the silence that’s settled heavily between us in the car. It feels both exhilarating and terrifying to finally be moving toward Whitney, yet I can’t shake the gnawing fear that clings to my heart.
“I don't know, honestly. Somehow, she will be,” Raze assures, his eyes focused on the road ahead. “Trust her.”
Trust. The word feels like a fucking grenade in my chest. I want to trust, to believe that everything will turn out alright. Yet, in the back of my mind, the voices swirl, reminding me of all the times I let down the people I loved.
“Look, I know it’s hard,” Raze continues. “But she wouldn’t want you to feel this way. Don’t lose sight of what you’ve fought so fucking hard for.”
His words slightly lift the weight off my shoulders, reminding me that I’m not weak for caring; I’m strong for standing still, for hoping, for fighting back. I nod, letting the warmth of his support wrap around me like a lifeline. With each passing exit sign, the anticipation builds until we finally pull onto the interstate that leads us to California. My heart races, thoughts flowing through my mind like a rushing river. Where is she? What has she been through?
“She’s waiting for us, Hawk,” Raze says, as though sensing my spiraling thoughts. “We’re bringing her home.”
And just like that, determination surges through me again. I can’t let my fears consume me when hope is so close. She’s out there. We’ll find her, and together we will piece everything back together. I finally understand. We’re not just racing toward her; we’re racing toward healing, toward finding our light again. The past may have put a damper on our spirits, but I refuse to let it smother what may just be a flicker of hope. After everything we’ve faced, I’m ready for the storm—but I will not fight it alone.
“You’re right,” I finally say, clenching my fists tightly. “We’re bringing her home.”
The next night, as the lights of California flicker in the distance, I can feel it in my bones—tonight is the nighteverything will change. With the sun sinking low, painting the horizon in shades of orange and crimson, the vibrant chaos of California's nightlife buzzes just beyond our reach. I feel invigorated and terrified all at once. Every ounce of desperation I carried turns to raw energy, fueling the fire inside me as Raze maintains a steady grip on the wheel, both of us focused on the destination. Nothing matters more than getting Whitney back.
As we get near the address she gave, a small, rundown motel tucked away in a dimly lit corner of the city, the excitement and dread begin to intertwine. Will she still be here? Has she managed to stay strong despite whatever had been thrown at her? The questions tumble through my mind like loose change in a pocket, relentless and overwhelming.
“We’re almost there,” Raze says, his voice steady yet laced with an undeniable urgency. “Stick to the plan. We go in, we get her, and we get the hell out.”
I nod, the tension in my muscles coiling tighter. Everything depends on this moment, and I can’t let doubt throw us off course. “Right. No messing around.”
