Page 6 of Unmasking Mayhem
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out quickly, tapping on the message from Raze.
The Bloods are here, and they want their money back. Get Whitney out of here, and I'll text you with updates.
I can stay and help.
No, go the fuck home and take Whit with you.
I mumble obscenities under my breath as I slide my phone back into my pocket, upset with myself for allowing my crazy to show on a day where I'm needed the most. Whitney tugs on my arm, bringing me back to the moment, and as I turn to look at her, I feel myself calming down from her smile.
"Let's get you out of here," I whisper, smoothing out her hair.
I do a quick scan of the club to make sure we have a clear path to the back exit, and when the coast is finally clear, I grab Whitney’s hand and yank her to her feet, pulling her behind me as we bolt for the door.
The cold, fresh air hits us the moment we burst outside, my eyes watering instantly, causing a slight blurring in my sight when I look to see which way to go. I rub them, trying to control the panic rising within my chest as the commotion from inside grows even louder. Once I can see again, I see my bike in the back lot, momentarily forgetting I rode in on it.
"Come on, we're taking my bike," I tell her, dragging her along with me as we make another run for it.
I start the engine and swap my mask for my helmet, quick enough so Whitney doesn't see my face, but as I turn around, Inotice she's frozen in her spot, her feet cemented to the ground. Her eyes are big and dark, lost in her own little world as she gazes at something in the shadows across the street. I try to follow her gaze, but I don't see anything, even though it's clear that she can.
"Whitney, let's fucking go," I urge, thrusting my spare helmet into her hands.
She snaps out of whatever the fuck she was just lost in, takes her mask off, and puts the helmet on, climbing on behind me with her arms tightly wrapped around my waist.
"Hold on, baby," I warn, before speeding off as if someone were chasing me, but looking in my mirror, it's clear that there's nobody behind me.
The wind rushes past us, a chaotic tune that drowns out the pandemonium left in our wake. As the adrenaline electrifies my body, I focus on nothing but the road ahead, trying desperately to quell the dark whispers writhing within my mind, edging me toward panic. The bike roars beneath us, a beast that matches the turmoil swirling inside my head, and I can feel Whitney's body pressed against me, each curve and contour a reminder of our connection amidst the mayhem.
"Where are we going?" she shouts over the noise of the engine, her voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and thrill.
I shake my head, unwilling to let her see the storm that brews beneath my calm façade. "Somewhere safe," I promise, leaning into the turn as I maneuver through the deserted streets.
I’ve memorized this route, the shortcuts, and the back roads that snake through the darkened neighborhoods of the city, giving me the chance to evade any potential threats.
With every sharp turn, I can feel her grip tighten around my waist, her body moving in sync with mine. The sense of urgency fills the air, swirling like smoke around us as we weave in and out of pools of streetlights, the night seemingly alivewith the possibilities of danger lurking just beyond our sight. As we barrel through an alley that connects to the back of an abandoned warehouse near Boston Harbor, my mind races to think of the safest spot until I can figure out our next move. I'm reminded of all the hideouts Raze and I used to map out during our run-ins with rival gang members. Trusting my instincts, I guide the bike toward one of the old trap houses, its exterior crumbling but the inside familiar and undisturbed. Pulling into the alley beside the building, I cut the engine and twist around to look at Whitney, who appears to be shaking slightly despite our warmth entangled in leather and adrenaline.
"We’ll be fine here," I assure her, but my voice lacks conviction.
The darkness around us feels thicker now that the noise of the club has faded, but her gaze remains fixed on me.
"You're sure?" she asks, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her tone that compels me to soften my expression.
"It’s just for a little while," I reassure her and turn around, pulling off my helmet and putting my mask back on. "We're okay. Just stay low."
I scan the area, making sure we’re alone, running through the dark corners of my mind for any danger we might be facing. She nods, but I can see the fear looming in her eyes—a fear I recognize because it mirrors my own. I wonder if this constant dance with danger is going to crush us one day, but I shake off the doubt; we won't let that happen. Stepping off the bike first, I extend my hand to her. As she climbs off, I can't help but admire how brave she is, even in moments of terror.
"Stay close, alright?" I murmur as I guide her towards the dark path leading to the water, hidden in the shadows where I know we'll be safe.
As we descend deeper into the darkness, I can feel Whitney's presence beside me, the warmth of her body acting like ananchor against the turbulent tide of thoughts rising in my mind. She presses against me, looking around with wide eyes full of wonder but still haunted by fear.
“Crow,” she whispers, her voice echoing off the tall trees lining each side of the trail. “What if they find us?”
“They won’t. We’re off the radar now,” I reply with more confidence than I feel, guiding her deeper into the woods, spotting the moonlit clearing just feet ahead.
As we step into the small clearing, the moon shines down like a spotlight, illuminating the space just enough to reveal the silence of the world around us. I try to make the moment feel serene, to capture the beauty of it. But beneath the surface, all I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears, the fear of what just happened intertwining with the anxiety of what might come next.
“Do you think Havoc is okay?” Whitney asks, breaking the quiet, her fingers intertwining with mine, seeking a connection to ground her.
“He knows how to handle himself,” I reply, though doubts flit through my mind. Raze is sharp and capable, but this situation feels heavy and charged, the kind of energy that could break someone if they weren’t careful. “We’ll check in with him soon.”
