Page 66 of Unmasking Mayhem
Raze furrows his brow. “To draw attention away, I guess. It’s a perfect cover for whatever he’s planning. If he’s throwing a party, we need to crash it and get in close. There might be more information about her with all those people.”
My anxiety spikes as pieces of the puzzle snap together, the urgency flooded with fear igniting again. “We can’t miss this chance. We need to find her tonight.”
Just then, the sound of muffled voices breaks through the heavy atmosphere. The bass from the club thumps in the background, a constant reminder of the chaos outside. I exchange a glance with Raze, who grimaces, the gears clearly turning in his mind.
“We’ll head out now,” he decides, determination dancing in his gaze. “But we need to think this through—head on a swivel. We can’t afford to get caught. Not now. Not ever.”
Resentful irritation surges through me; I know he’s right, but it’s hard to suppress the tempest brewing, pushing against every wall I’ve built over the years.
“I can’t sit by and watch her suffer—your plan isn’t enough,” I snap, my emotions simmering over.
Raze raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I know, but patience is key right now. If we rush in without a plan, we could lose everything. Hell, we could lose our lives. I won’t let that happen to you.”
Those words hang heavy between us, a reminder of how intertwined our fates have become. My grip tightens on my phone as I pull in my breaths, managing to rein in my rising fire.
“Okay,” I concede. “Let’s make sure we have everything we need before we go.”
Raze nods, and we begin gathering anything we might use—both for direct confrontation and for strategic planning. The urgency pushes me to shove my reservations aside. Though the world outside feels like a festering wound ready to erupt at any moment, things settle with a fiery determination beneath the surface. With one final glance at Whitney’s phone, Raze steps up.
“Your turn, Hawk,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s time to embrace your role as the ‘bad guy’ tonight.”
The thought makes me chuckle nervously. “Just remember, no one knows I’m on meds tonight,” I half-joke, the reality weighing heavily over the dark humor.
“Not an issue,” he says, his demeanor shifting back to being serious. “We just need you focused, okay? For her.”
That light suffusing my heart blooms into determination again. “For Whitney,” I agree, finally feeling grounded in our purpose.
As we finalize our preparations, adrenaline spikes through me, pulsing sharply with every breath I take. Tonight, everything is a gamble, but for us, a risk worth taking. We can’t let the darkness win; it’s time to be the light she needs. We step out of the VIP room and into the club, ready to fight for the life of a girl we love. Little do we know, the real battle is only just beginning. The irony tastes bittersweet on my lips as we make our way into the swirling mass of bodies dancing in shadows, the pulse of the music echoing the fight within—the struggle to pull someone from the depths before they drown forever.
“Stay close. King told us we weren't allowed to leave,” I remind Raze as we navigate our way through the crowd, my heart racing, fueled by desperation and hope.
We’ve made it this far—nothing and no one can stop us now. The chaos of the club envelops us, pulsing lights reflecting off walls dripping with sweat and beer while bodies sway to the infectious rhythm. In this maelstrom of sound and movement, it’s easy to lose sight of our singular purpose, but the weight of Whitney’s absence keeps that fire ignited. I feel Raze’s presence beside me, a stalwart anchor in a sea of overwhelming distractions.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Raze mutters, squeezing through a cluster of gregarious dancers. “If King and D are watching us, we’ll need an escape plan—fast.”
I nod, scanning the room as we weave through the chaos, trying to get to the back door. The laughter and music create a treacherous backdrop masking the often sinister dealings that happen in club basements like this one.
“Just let me know if you spot anyone following us,” I reply, voice clipped. “We can’t afford to let any of their guys see us until we’re long gone.”
We make it out the back door, walking into a heavy snowstorm, with giant flurries falling down around us. I take a breath, inhaling the cold air, trying to keep myself focused, even though the more I think, the crazier I feel. Raze walks beside me, deep in thought, snow crunching under our feet as we aimlessly travel down the sidewalk with no location in mind. That's when he takes out his phone and dials a number I can't make out, my nerves attacking my heart even more.
"Red, I need a favor," Raze says into the phone, and hearing Red's name allows me to begin to relax. "Yeah, yeah, I need you to do a little digging on the California Bloods and try to figure out where they might be held up out here on the east coast."
He continues talking, and I can only pick up the odd words slipping out of his mouth as I gaze into the storm-cloaked streets. “Dustin… Whitney… party,” he says, each mention lacingmy heart deeper with urgency. As I stand there listening, a strange sensation slithers up my spine, tightening around my throat like a vise.
Time ticks away, each second reverberating like a countdown in my mind—the pressure intensifying with every assertion Raze makes into the phone. The swirling chaos of the night suffocates, a cloud of uncertainty and danger closing in around us. After what feels like hours, Raze finally hangs up, the weight of his silence adding to my unease.
“Red’s on it,” Raze states, his voice firm yet laden with their unspoken burdens. “He’s gonna check in with some of his connections to see if he can dig up anything on where the Bloods are operating, particularly around this area.”
I nod, my heart racing as the gravity of our situation settles back in. “That gives us a little time to plan. But we have to move fast; we can’t let this chance slip away. The longer we wait, the stronger Dustin gets—and he won’t hesitate to hurt her.”
Raze’s jaw tightens, determination lighting his features briefly, then fades back into worry. “I fucking hate this…” he mutters. “We don’t even know what she’s going through right now.”
“Whatever it is, we’re gonna be there for her. I won’t let her down again,” I promise, my voice steadying against the winds howling around us. “We’ll do whatever it takes to get her back. I’m done feeling powerless.”
Raze laces his fingers through his hair, the frustration evident in how tightly he pulls them. As we navigate through the angled roads toward Whitney’s last known location, each passing moment lingers like a ticking clock. Time holds its breath, and with every turn, the shadows merge into the memories of our struggles and our resolve—fueled by the love for a girl caught in the crossfire of a deadly game.
As snow continues to swirl around us like a spectral shroud, the two of us race against time, determined to break every hold he’s had, determined to reclaim her from the abyss before it swallows her whole. Tonight, we fight for lives and hearts, buried deep beneath darkness but united in a flame of hope that refuses to dim.
