Page 31 of Captured By Her Mates

“Lily’s safety is our priority,” I emphasize, my voice unwavering. “Alistair sees her as a means to control us, to bend us to his will. But we won’t let that happen. He can’t keep control of this city, using us all his pawns to get what he wants. It isn’t right.”

A resolute murmur sweeps through the room, a chorus of agreement that underscores the unity that binds us together. I let my words hang in the air, the weight of their implications settling upon us all. This is more than a mission – it’s a pivotal moment in the struggle for justice and peace. “Prepare yourselves. Rally your strengths. Work together.”

As the room settles into a charged silence, thoughts of Lily flood my mind like a relentless tide. Her image is etched vividly, her smile juxtaposed against the backdrop of uncertainty and danger that surrounds us. I remember the last moment we shared, when Novak and I had that wild and exciting moment with her. Something so unexpected yet so exciting all at once.

I don’t know if I will ever get to share a moment like that with her again, which is why it’ll be committed to memory for as long as I live.

Amid the whirlwind of emotions and reflections, it’s time to bring the focus back to the present, to the task that lies ahead. “All right,” I continue, my voice commanding attention once again. “We’ve got work to do, and it starts with understanding our enemy. Alistair has got resources, influence, and a history we’re going to unravel. We need to know him better than he knows himself. There’s no room for assumptions here. We have to fight fire with fire.”

I stride with measured steps, my gaze sweeping across the room, ensuring I have the undivided attention of everyone present. “But much as we need intelligence, we also need to train. We will split into teams, all working on our best fighting techniques. Wolf and man together.”

Nods of agreement ripple through the assembly, but soon, questions begin to arise – logistical queries, strategic concerns, and the practicalities of our operation.

“Sir, yes, sir,” everyone choruses in unison, their voices carrying the weight of their commitment to our cause. The words are more than a mere acknowledgment; they’re a declaration of allegiance, a testament to the unyielding determination that binds us together.

The weight of the meeting and the resounding chorus of allegiance still hang in the air as I pull out my phone to check for messages. The words that greet me send a shiver down my spine:“Need you back at the house, we have to talk.”From Ryker. Uh oh.

My heart races as a mixture of anticipation and unease settles in the pit of my stomach. Instantly, my thoughts flash back to the actions me and Novak took the day before. The gravity of what we did crashes over me like a tidal wave, and suddenly, the very foundation of my commitment to Ryker and our cause feels as though it trembles.

The memory of that moment with Novak and Lily is vivid, the unspoken connection, the stolen glances, and the guilty excitement that coursed through us. It was an act born of impulse and emotion, a fleeting collision of three souls in a moment of vulnerability.

But now, as I stare at the message on my phone, a pang of guilt gnaws at my conscience. I have betrayed Ryker’s trust – not just as a leader but as a friend who once stood by him through thick and thin. And it wasn’t just about our actions; it’s the fact that Ryker has shown a certain fondness for Lily, a bond that I seemingly disregarded.

As my thoughts spiral, my sense of duty battles with my guilt. The urgency in the message can’t be ignored, and with a heavy sigh, I make my excuses to the members ofRyker’s army, explaining that something required my attention back at our home, and then I leave...

* * *

Colt

The late afternoonsun shine hangs heavy over the abandoned parking lot, cloaking everything in an eerie stillness. Dim lamp lights struggle to be seen as they begin to make their appearance. I stand with a handful of Ryker’s organization members, our forms outlined by the soft glow of cigarette tips and the glint of a hip flask making its rounds.

Laughter punctuates the quietude as we share stories, old war tales, and the kind of jokes that only those who have stared adversity in the face can fully appreciate. In this rare moment of camaraderie, the worries of our mission momentarily takes a back seat, replaced by the simple human connection that had brought us all together.

The atmosphere is relaxed, the tension of our earlier commitments temporarily forgotten. We lean against the hood of a rusted out car, make-shift seating for a motley crew of my friends. Smoke curls into the night air as someone bellows out another dirty joke.

But the tranquility is short-lived. A distant rumble breaks through the stillness, the sound of engines approaching. Heads turn as we collectively catch sight of the SUVs rolling into the parking lot, their imposing frames reminding us what we’re really doing here.

The tension in the air is almost palpable as the figures emerge from the SUVs and move with a practiced efficiency. In the dim illumination, their silhouettes are sharp, each motion deliberate and purposeful. The air of intrigue has now evolved into a revelation that unfolded before our eyes.

Crate after crate is set down, and as the lids are lifted, the contents are revealed – an array of weaponry, gleaming dully in the scarce light. The sight is a stark reminder of the stakes we were facing, the battle that loomed on the horizon, and the urgency of our mission.

The men who remain throughout continue their work, methodically arranging the weapons in a precise formation. It’s as if they are choreographing an intricate dance of danger, each movement a piece of a larger puzzle. Our focus shifts from cautious curiosity to a shared understanding that the arsenal before us is a manifestation of the preparation required for the fight that awaits.

Amidst the hushed murmurs and exchanged glances among my friends, the car’s door swings open. Out steps a figure that commands attention. A man, clad in a sharp crimson suit that seems to shimmer under the dim illumination. His yellow tie, a streak of vibrant color against the muted surroundings, draws the eye like a beacon. Tinted sunglasses conceal his gaze, lending an air of mystery to his presence. In his gloved hand, he holds a cane with a parrot shaped head, an unexpected touch of whimsy that clashes against the grim atmosphere.

The sight of him triggers a coil of tension to tighten in my gut. Memories, both distant and hauntingly near, surge to the forefront of my mind. Yet, as he begins to approach, a spark of recognition flickers in his eyes, and his lips curl into a faint smile that softens his stern features. The man who strides toward me isn’t a stranger, but that only makes my heart pound faster.

Tick, tick, tick.

I can almost hear the clock as he approaches, each second tenser than the last. Who will speak first? What is he going to say? I hope this doesn’t go sideways…

“You’ve gotten fat,” he finally quips as he nears, the words hanging between us like an unexpected chord in a familiar tune. “When did that happen?”

Fat?I glance down. We both know this is muscle. I’ve worked hard for this body. Despite the lingering apprehension, a smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. His comment is both a jest and a gesture of familiarity, which I’m not sure everyone else realizes just yet.

“And you’ve gone bald,” I retort, my tone light but tinged with an edge of playful accusation. “I see through the frilly hat you’re wearing.”

For a moment, it seems like all the air has gone. No one quite knows how to respond to this. Until finally, laughter erupts from deep within us. We bend double, allowing the mirth to shine free. Eventually, once everyone else realizes that this is genuine laughter, they join in, too. There might still be a bit of uncertainty clinging to the air, but me and my brother, the arm’s dealer, will soon dispel that. We always do.

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