6. Rumors
SIX
RUMORS
GOSSIP: SKITZ KRAVEN
ASH
T he biting chill of the early morning air seems to have no effect on either Dom or me—not with the potent cocktail of drugs coursing through our veins. We swore we’d strive for sobriety—for Cali’s sake—but with her disappearance hanging over us and everyone on edge, uncertain of what the dawn might bring, that promise feels like a distant memory.
As we drive toward Calista’s parents' house, we light up another laced blunt. The cocaine tingles on my tongue and lips with every inhalation. Well past two a.m., the dark streets of Boston are alive with drunken revelers stumbling between bars, weaving in and out of the road, turning our drive into a perilous game of chicken. We swerve to avoid them, the tension ramping up with each close call.
Occasionally, I hear Dom let out a frustrated huff from the passenger seat, his gaze locked on the passing scenery as if he hopes to catch a glimpse of Cali at every corner. But deep down, we both know that finding her won’t be easy—it’s like searching for a needle in a fucking haystack, and our hope fades with each passing moment.
“How do you know Gunnar will be at her parents’ place?” I ask, trying to break the heavy silence that envelops us, the roar of the engine nearly drowning out my voice.
He shrugs, still staring out the window. “I don’t, Ash, but we’ve got to fucking start somewhere. If he’s not there, we can swing by his place. I know where he lives—thanks to Cali letting slip more than she should after a few drinks.” He offers a smile, but I see the pain flickering behind it, and it breaks my heart all over again.
Just the sound of her name twists my stomach, and I can feel Dom’s discomfort resonating with mine; his body language betrays the fear his lips won’t voice—that we might be too late. We don’t want to entertain that possibility, but given how everything unraveled before tonight, it feels achingly inevitable.
I take another drag from the blunt, feeling the potent mix of drugs wash over me in an ecstatic rush. They do their job, numbing my thoughts—my heart encased in a shield of ice. I pass the blunt to Dom, watching as the thick smoke coils around us, shrouding the car in a hazy fog while I squint through the windshield, trying to steer clear of the inebriated figures still dotting the streets.
“Just run them the hell over,” Dom snaps, rolling down the window and letting the smoke escape, giving me a clearer view ahead.
“I wish I could,” I reply with a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. “But what good would it do if we end up in jail for murder?”
I hope to coax a smile from him, but his expression remains stoic. Guilt gnaws at him; despite our repeated reassurances that none of this is his fault, he won’t let it go. That’s just Dom—he wears his heart on his sleeve, clings to grudges like a lifeline, and takes everything to heart, no matter how trivial it may seem. You can’t change someone so deeply entrenched in their own pain.
As we plunge deeper into the city, the flickering streetlights resemble fading stars—a testament to the unraveling night. I feel the weight of our decisions pressing down on me relentlessly. Dom and I share a history etched in pain, triumph, and a roster of mistakes—ours among many crafted for love, sanity, and the struggle against our demons. Cali was the one bright light in that chaos, and without her, the shadows loom larger, creeping back like unwelcome friends.
In an attempt to ease the tension, I turn up the music, letting the distorted melodies envelop us. It’s loud, aggressive, and visceral—the bass vibrating through every inch of the car. I glance at Dom; his foot taps restlessly against the floor, caught in a rhythm only he can hear—a beat of regret.
“Hey, man,” I venture softly, “remember when we stashed that beer in the park after school? We thought we were so fucking slick.”
A flicker of amusement crosses his face. “Yeah, until your dad drove by and you nearly shit your pants.”
We share a laugh, a momentary flash of our childhood, but it quickly dims as the weight of Cali’s absence constricts around us. She would have laughed too, her radiant smile lighting up our mischief. Thoughts of her swirl, constricting my breath.
As we near the affluent neighborhood where Cali’s parents live, a lump forms in my throat. It’s surreal how familiar streets can suddenly feel alien, like a cherished painting marred by careless strokes. I pull into a spot just a few houses down from her childhood home, the copper gutters glinting in the streetlights—reminders of summer nights spent counting stars and sharing secrets beneath this very sky.
Dom exhales slowly, pulling the blunt roach from his lips as he gazes at the house ahead. “You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I grip the steering wheel tighter, feeling the distance from our past hit me like a freight train. The promise of hope shimmers out there beyond the darkness, delicate and fragile.
As we step out of the car, the cold air wraps around us, sharp and biting, but we don’t flinch. Maybe it’s the drugs. Maybe it’s the desperate thirst for answers. Either way, we approach the grand gate surrounding the house, shoulders squared, hearts racing, the rhythmic tap of Dom's crutches echoing in my ears.
What if we find her? What if we don’t? What if she’s hurt?
The sense of foreboding looms, though a flicker of hope remains—much like a half-extinguished flame yearning for a breath of wind. Dom’s hand finds my shoulder for a fleeting moment—a silent acknowledgment of our fears as we scurry along the perimeter of the mansion, seeking a glimpse inside without being caught.
When we finally find a sightline into the family room, light spills from the interior, illuminating the figures gathered within. We crouch down, pressing our ears to a crack in the window, desperate to catch whispers that might guide us in the right direction to wherever Cali might be.
Elaine and Thomas's frantic arguments pierce the night. It’s evident they have no idea where their daughter is. It brings bittersweet relief, but it’s far from what we long to hear. If they don't know where she is, if they had nothing to do with her kidnapping, then who the fuck knows?
Drawing back to steal a glance, we find only them wrapped in mounting panic. Their worried faces reflect the luxury that surrounds them, a stark contrast to the turmoil looming over us. Gunnar's name surfaces repeatedly, and Dom’s expression screams, “I told you so.”
“Well, this is a complete fucking waste,” I whisper, keeping my eyes glued to the two of them drowning their failures in expensive liquor, reminding us just how privileged they truly are.
“I told you,” he insists. “We need to go to Gunnar’s house. He has to know something.” He rolls his eyes, then gestures for silence as Elaine begins to speak again.
“Where the hell is Gunnar? He promised to update me, but I haven’t heard anything.”
Thomas shrugs, frustration evident in the defeated glare he casts at his wife as he downs a shot of top-shelf whiskey. “I don’t know, Elaine. Can you just call him? You’ve been fucking him for months. If anyone can get him to talk, it’s you,” he sneers, a venomous glare aimed squarely at her.
Elaine matches his contempt, stepping close enough to press her nose against his, anger radiating from her. “I wouldn’t have to sleep with a younger man if my husband could satisfy me in bed,” she bites back, her words sharp enough to send chills down my spine.
Thomas storms out of the living room, flipping her off as he goes, maintaining his gesture until he’s entirely out of view. Just as Dom and I decide to leave, we hear her voice again, this time trapped in a frantic conversation into the phone pressed against her ear.
“Why haven’t you called me?” She snaps, most likely addressing Gunnar.
Dom and I exchange silent glances, ducking back down, straining to listen as she paces anxiously.
“You have her, right?” she implores, a wrong kind of hope coloring her tone—not the kind Dom and I cling to.
My stomach plummets, nausea rising as I fight to keep it at bay. I glance at Dom, noting the color draining from his already pale face; his jaw set tight, clenching as he struggles to hold it together.
“Keep her there until I can come over... I don’t care what you do to her; just make sure she knows this little stunt isn’t going to go unnoticed.” Elaine hangs up, taking a swig straight from the bottle in her grasp, her gaze randomly drifting toward the window where we crouch.
Quickly, we duck low, hoping we didn’t blow our cover. Minutes tick by until the lights dim and the room falls into darkness. Then we make a run for it, doing our best to move quickly—Dom is still managing his crutches.
Once we’re back inside the car, we finally release the deep breath we hadn’t realized we were holding, taking a moment to regain our bearings before starting the engine and slipping away into the night, swallowed by silence.
The car's engine growls to life, breaking the stillness that settles around us. Anxiety surges through me as I shift into gear, my eyes scanning the street for lurking, prying eyes. Dom's crutches clang restlessly against the floor as he adjusts himself, a reminder of the beautiful chaos that now feels impossibly distant.
"What the hell was that?" He breaks the silence, his voice rising with disbelief. "Did she really just say that?"
I grit my teeth, the weight of Elaine’s words pressing heavily against my chest. “Yeah, and we don’t have much time. We need to figure out where to go next."
"She said, 'keep her there,'" Dom murmurs, his brows furrowing as the implications crash into us. "She knows where Cali is. We have to find Gunnar before she gets to him."
“Right,” I reply, the determination crackling between us like static electricity. “But we have to be smart about this. We can’t just storm in there looking for answers.”
As we speed back into the heart of Boston, the city lights blur past us—an unending streak of yellow and white against the dark canvas of the night. The world feels alarmingly normal, people swaying on sidewalks and laughter spilling from bars, entirely unaware of the turmoil that has seized our lives.
“Do you think Cali is with him?” Dom’s voice trembles, a mix of hope and horror tainting his words.
I hesitate, the dread pooling in my stomach. “I don’t know. But if Elaine is working with him, we need to get there before something happens. God, I can’t believe this shit.”
My mind spins through possibilities—each darker than the last—what they could be planning, how she must be feeling, what room we might burst into next. The uncertainty gnaws at my sanity, but what choice do we have? The clock is ticking, and every second that passes feels like another shackle tightening around Cali.
We arrive at Gunnar's apartment building, the scene before us recalling memories of late-night escapades and reckless abandon that feels like lifetimes ago. I park the car, casting nervous glances at the entrance, expecting trouble to leap out from the shadows.
"This place gives me the creeps," I mutter, resting my forehead against the steering wheel for a moment.
"Let’s just get this over with," Dom urges, pushing open the door and carefully maneuvering his crutches onto the pavement. “And whatever you do, don’t draw attention. We need to slip in and out without raising any alarms.”
"We need to call this shit in. Kill and Five can fucking help us, Dom," I push, leaning against the open car door.
He spins around and glares at me, breathing heavily, so cold you can see each breath he exhales as it swirls into the silent night.
"You couldn't have said something before I got out? Jesus, Ash, as if it isn't hard enough to walk with this shit on my leg." He rolls his eyes and climbs back into the car, slamming his door shut to show me just how pissed off he is.
I get back in, turning the key so the heat comes on to warm us up, frost already spreading across the car windows. Pulling up Killian's number, I hit call and put the call on speaker, my foot anxiously tapping against the brake pedal. While the ringing on the other end taunts us, Dom keeps his eyes on Gunnar's apartment, just waiting to catch a glimpse of the motherfucker who ruined everything. But his place remains dark, a sinking feeling filling my body, just having a gut feeling that no one is here.
"Yo, what's good?" Kill answers the phone, stress dripping from his soft voice.
"We're at Gunnar's place if ya'll wanna head on over," I inform him, hearing him sigh on the other end.
"He isn't there, Ash," he says coldly, putting fire in my veins as the cold from the outside continues to wrap around me.
"And how the fuck do you know that?" I snap, rolling my eyes and shaking my head at Dom as he listens to every word.
"Because we're staring at the motherfucker right now."
My jaw drops and confusion sets in, and I start the car fully in a hurry, just wanting to get to wherever they are as fast as I can.
"Where the fuck are you?" Dom roars, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands.
"At the bar near Five's. Pure luck we found him though," Kill says, sounding distracted. "It looks like he's heading out soon, so if you're coming, hurry the fuck up."
I grip the steering wheel tighter, adrenaline surging through my veins. "We’re on our way," I reply, grabbing my phone and shoving it into my pocket. "We can’t lose him."
Dom propels himself forward, the clatter of his crutches echoing in the confined space. "Just drive—fast."
The urgency in his voice snaps me into action, and I throw the car into gear, tires screeching against the asphalt as we tear away from the curb. The empty streets unfold before us, enveloped in an unsettling stillness broken only by the hum of the engine and our labored breaths. A sickening tension coils in the pit of my stomach, and with each moment that ticks by, the urge to scream at the world around us intensifies.
As I navigate the familiar route to the bar, Dom stares out the window, his expression a mixture of fury and fear.
"If he knows anything—" he starts, but words trail off into a simmering silence.
We both feel it—the weight of uncertainty hanging in the air like a storm ready to unleash its fury.
Pulling into the dimly lit parking lot, I screech to a halt, throwing the car into park before jumping out. Dom is quick to follow, albeit with careful balance on his crutches. We rush toward the bar entrance, urgency propelling our frantic steps.
Inside, the atmosphere is a symphony of laughter, clinking glasses, and pulsating music, a stark contrast to the suffocating fear that grips us. My gaze darts around the room, searching for Killian and Five’s familiar faces.
“There!” I spot them near the back, leaning against the metallic bar.
Gunnar stands beside them, gesticulating wildly, a drink in hand, his laughter ringing out in shrill bursts that feel almost mocking. I nod to Dom, and we make our way through the throng of bodies, the air thick with the smell of cheap beer and sweat. As we approach, I can hear snippets of their conversation, urgency thrumming in my veins.
“—didn’t think you could actually pull it off." Five laughs, his dark hair gleaming under the dim lights.
“Yeah, well, surprises keep the game interesting,” Gunnar smirks, tossing back the rest of his drink and signaling for another. My heart pounds with a deeply unsettling rhythm, the very sight of him igniting the tension between Dom and me.
“Kill,” I hiss, stepping closer now, leaning over to his side to make sure we don’t miss anything. “What the fuck do we do?”
"Wait—” he raises a hand to still me, eyes narrowing as he leans in toward Five, their murmured words barely audible against the noise.
I hang back, tension twisting in my gut as I wrestle my urge to confront Gunnar right there. Before I can formulate a plan, Dom steps ahead—fear and determination fueling him as he slams into Gunnar with a surprising force, sending the drink flying out of his hand.
“Where the fuck is Cali?” His voice is filled with raw anger, and the bar falls into a shocked silence.
Gunnar's eyes widen, more from surprise than fear, as he stumbles backward, leaning against the bar’s edge for balance.
“What are you talking about?” He feigns innocence, though the smirk on his face falls away into something darker.
“Don’t play fuckimg dumb with us,” I grind out through clenched teeth, stepping closer to Dom's side for support, a protective urge swelling within me. “We know you fucking know something.”
Five and Killian exchange quick glances, tension thickening. There’s a palpable shift in the atmosphere—like air before a storm, electrified with possibility.
Gunnar straightens, shaking off the shock, confidence washing back over him. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, boys. I don’t owe you shit.”
“Is that so?” Dom snarls, the fire in his voice unwavering. “You think you can just lie and think we’ll let this go? You’re dead wrong.”
The air thrums with danger; the crowd has resumed its chatter, though some eyes linger on our confrontation. I can’t let this escalate. Not here, not now.
“Dom, wait!” I reach out, gripping his arm and feeling the tension ripple beneath his skin. “If he has her?—”
“Let go of me, Ash!” He snaps, frustration spilling over as he shakes off my grip, eyes never leaving Gunnar’s face. “I’m done listening to this prick’s bullshit.”
“Let’s step outside,” Killian interjects, his voice steady as he directs Gunnar with a nod of his head. “It might be easier to sort this out away from the crowd.”
“No one’s going anywhere,” Gunnar retorts, a challenge lighting up his eyes.
Not willing to let this slip through our fingers, I push forward, trying to regain control over the situation. “We’re not afraid of you, Gunnar. We’re here for Cali—just tell us where she is.”
He laughs, a harsh sound, as he lights a cigarette, letting the smoke mingle with the air around him. “You’re desperate, aren’t you? But I can’t help you with that. All you’re going to find here is trouble.”
Killian steps forward, putting a protective hand on Dom’s chest, holding him back as he leans in. “You’re going to give us the information, whether you want to or not. It’s in your best interest to comply. You know how easy it would be for us to find the wrong people to press you,” his voice drips with hearty menace as he clenches his fists, uncovering the sharp glint of intent.
Gunnar flinches but quickly masks it with arrogance. “Sure, threaten me all you like. I’m not afraid of you idiots. But you’d be wise to remember you don’t have the leverage here.”
The words cut through the air, heavy with implication. My pulse races—his words are a challenge.
Then, abruptly, Five speaks up, glancing toward the door leading outside, a sudden urgency cutting into the moment. “There’s too many eyes in here. We need him to talk.”
“Fine,” I say, my heart pounding as I feel the weight of the moment. “Let’s take this outside, then.”
With Dom beside me, fueled by fear and fury in equal measure, we push through the crowd, Gunnar hot on our heels, Killian and Five flanking us as everyone’s gaze settles on the unfolding scene. Outside, the cold air pierces through our heated confrontation, igniting the tension into something more palpable.
As we step into the dark alley that runs alongside the bar, I feel the weight of the world resting on our shoulders—the fate of Cali dangling by a fragile thread. But this time, we won’t let it go easily.
“Now,” I say, locking my eyes firm on Gunnar. “You’re going to tell us everything.”
With the snap of his fingers, shadows step out of the darkness, grabbing the four of us in a tight grasp, preventing us from going anywhere. Gunnar steps close, grinning, the scent of liquor heavy on his breath as he spits threat after threat, acting as if he's won.
"I think it's cute that you're trying to find Calista and all, but you ain't getting shit out of me. Do I have her? Maybe, maybe not. Do I know where she is? Maybe, maybe not," he laughs, sounding as sinister as our fathers when they get their way.
"We're going to fucking find her, Gunnar," Killian growls, trying to break out of the hold Gunnar's man has on him, but it doesn't work.
"Yeah, good luck with that," Gunnar laughs again, spitting a glob of phlegm down by our feet before turning his back and slowly walking away. "Teach them a lesson, boys, and make sure they know their place by the time you're done."