4. Distracted
FOUR
DISTRACTED
SAY ANYTHING: CARTEL
KILLIAN
R eturning to the apartment without Dom feels fucking wrong, as if we don't belong here. There's an undeniable emptiness—someone is missing, and it casts an air of defeat over everything.
Ash and I lounge on the couch, me with a bong in one hand and a glass pipe in the other. The crack high tingles my senses, while the weed soothes my racing heart. Ash snorts another line and takes a shot of Fireball before pulling out his laptop.
“Might as well start researching the men who might have taken her,” he says flatly, his eyes glued to the screen.
"We need to track down her parents' closest allies. I bet they're behind this," I suggest, feeling lost on where to even begin.
"I'm looking into private security and anyone who works at their home. I think they'd be the first suspects," Ash replies with a casual shrug, fingers flying across the keyboard.
I take a deep hit from the bong, holding the smoke in my lungs as I sift through my memories, trying to recall anyone I might have seen during my time there. But thoughts of Cali and Dom cloud everything else. My heart aches. I loathe this emptiness without them, and the sense of helplessness has never been more overwhelming.
Even the drugs aren't providing much relief. In the past, they offered a temporary escape, but now they barely touch the surface of my turmoil. It’s almost as if the substances we’re relying on have lost their potency, mirroring my sense of loss. I exhale slowly, wisps of smoke curling upwards like the last remnants of hope slipping away.
Ash’s focused intensity grabs my attention. “Hey, remember that guy from her last birthday party? The one who wouldn’t stop eyeing her?” He asks, as if an idea just struck him.
My mind races back; I can see the guy’s face—shifty, with an unsettling smirk. "Yeah, the guy who was pissed he didn't win? What about him?” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.
“He might have a connection to the kind of people who’d want to use her against her family. We need to dig deeper,” Ash replies, determination etched into his features.
Pushing aside the fog of despair, I reach for my phone. “Let me see if I can pull up the guest list,” I say, scrambling to find any detail that could lead us to Cali. My fingers tremble slightly as I navigate through my contacts, but it feels like grasping at shadows. Thoughts of threats, past rivalries, and hidden agendas swirl in my mind, intensifying the pit of dread in my stomach.
As I sift through numbered names, a part of me can’t help but feel like we’re doing this all too late. We should have protected her better; we should have seen this coming. But guilt only fuels my desperation.
“If we can find this guy, we can figure out what he knows,” I say, trying to steady my voice. "More so what he fucking wants and why he took her."
Ash gives me a nod. “We need to be smart about it. No loud accusations—just observation; recede into the background. If we confront him, it might make things worse.”
I exhale, partly to calm the tumult of emotions inside me but mostly in agreement. My instincts tell me that rushing in blindly would only make matters worse. We already feel lost; we can’t afford to lose each other too in the process.
“Let’s hit the streets tonight,” I advocate, feeling a surge of adrenaline. “We can start at the usual spots—see if anyone's seen him since the party.”
Ash cracks a faint smile, a twisted kind of reassurance in this myth we’re attempting to navigate. “All right. But first, one more round?”
He gestures towards the remnants of our quick high. With a silent agreement, we dive into the brief moment of distraction, knowing the night's gravity awaits just beyond our haze. For now, let the blurred edges of our reality shield us. We might be lost, but we’re not giving up. Not yet.
The front door opens abruptly, startling me and Ash to where I almost drop the bong on the floor. Looking up, I see Five walk in, bags of fast food clutched in his hand and a case of beer in the other. He bypasses us and puts the beer in the fridge, returning to the living room with three of them, and he hands one to me and one to Ash before he sits down and pops the top on his instantly.
"Any progress?" he asks, sipping on his beer, his bloodshot eyes flicking between me and Ash.
I shake my head, mirroring Ash’s gesture, silence enveloping us like a warm blanket.
Five cracks a smirk, trying to lighten the mood, but the weight in the air doesn’t lift. “You two look like you’ve seen a ghost. Come on, it’s just a temporary fucking setback. We’ll find her.”
“Easier said than done,” Ash mutters, but he takes a swig of his beer, the bitterness somehow equal parts familiar and comforting.
Five stretches out, resting his feet on the coffee table, his indifferent demeanor beginning to feel like a smokescreen for the concern underneath.
“Well, I’ve got another idea. Why don’t we hit up that bar on West? You know, the one where everyone goes after a race? Might be a good place to hear some gossip,” he says, his tone casual, but there’s an edge to it that cuts through my haze.
I consider that for a moment. The kind of place where secrets hide in dark corners and more than a few faces are willing to share their ‘knowledge’ in exchange for a drink.
“Yeah, maybe we can find out if anyone’s seen or heard anything about Cali,” I reply, a flicker of hope blooming despite the exhaustion smothering it. "What we need is a fucking list... like Cali had," I suggest, my eyes heavily focused on the dingy rug my feet are planted on, stuck in a nightmare that refuses to end.
"That's not a bad idea," Ash speaks up, his eyes finding mine as they drift away from his laptop screen.
"How the fuck do you know who to put on it?" Five asks, his pierced brows pinching in confusion.
"It's not really hard," I scoff, shaking my head. "Not when there's so many motherfuckers out there who could've had something to do with this shit." I stand up, searching the cluttered kitchen counter for a pen and piece of paper. As my hands sweep the cold marble, an obvious idea hits me, and I shake my head at just how caught up we've been.
"Why are we not starting with our fathers first?" I spin around once I've found a pen, glaring at Ash as if he should've thought about it too.
"You think after they tried to have us fucking killed they'd try something as ballsy as this?" His jaw clenches in anger, and he grips the lighter in his hand so tight for a second I think he might crush it.
"Actually, yeah," I answer, feeling my own anger bubbling hotter and hotter beneath the surface, about to explode "I think they'd try anything and everything to separate us from Cali, and that's exactly what fucking happened." I click my pen and scribble their names onto the crumbled up piece of paper I found, my hand shaking.
Jackson Gray
Adam Moretti
David Blacksburg
Thomas Harlow
Elaine Harlow
"Our parents are practically the kings of this game," I continue, voice trembling beneath the weight of my conviction. “They’d know about any potential threats. And if they’ve been pulling strings, we need to know just how deep this shit goes.”
After filling him in on the situation, Five sits here, nodding, looking deep in thought. He nods, his earlier levity fading as he contemplates the severity of the situation. "You’re right. They might not have directly orchestrated it, but they’re definitely players in this twisted little game," he agrees, a note of urgency creeping into his voice.
I drop the pen on the table, my frustration simmering at the surface. The thought of our families being the ‘lord and lady’ of what feels like a cruel chess match twists my stomach into knots. “So, how do we approach this shit? You think they’d just fess the fuck up? Like, ‘Oh, by the way, we’ve got your girl in the basement, no biggie—or some shit like that?’”
Ash shakes his head, exhaling slowly. “No, they’ll fucking deny, deny, deny. We’ll need more than just a fucking hunch. We need evidence—something that shows they’re involved or at least aware of what the fuck's going down. If we don’t have that, shit, they’ll twist everything back on us."
I lean back against the counter, frustration morphing into determination. “Then let’s hit that bar and gather some intel. Maybe someone’s heard something, or shit, maybe we can catch wind of any family business that’s been brewing.”
Five cracks open another beer, his mind racing through possibilities. “It’s a long shot, but it’s better than sitting here staring at a fucking wall, hoping for a goddamn miracle,” he says, the glimmer of solidarity lighting a fire beneath his veneer of indifference.
“I’ll start the list here,” I say, waving the crumpled paper in the air. “Keep including their names, anyone connected, and anyone who has a grudge against us. We’ll go in with a strategy, or else we might not fucking walk back out."
With that, the urgency fills the room, reality crashing down on us like waves from a storm. There’s no time left for wallowing. I can’t let myself spiral any deeper; the gravity of the situation is too heavy. There's more than just one life at risk here, but we're still all willing to put everything on the fucking line.
I grab my coat and pull it on, the fabric soothing against the roughness of my skin. As I do, Ash closes his laptop and stands, the sudden movement drawing my attention.
“Let's get out of here,” he says, his tone steadier now. “We need to find what threads we can pull, and maybe the right people choose to unravel.”
Five drains the last of his beer before following us, the three of us stepping out of the dim light of the apartment and into the cold night air. It’s a brisk reminder of the reality we’re facing, but it feels good to be moving, to take control. We shuffle through the streets, a burden born from mutual desperation, and as the city lights flicker above us, I can’t help but feel the weight of every lost moment, every smile stolen, etched into the very fabric of the asphalt. I think of Cali. We’re running out of time, and with every heartbeat, I sense the clock ticking down.
The bar is just ahead, a soft light beckoning like a faded memory. When we reach the entrance, I take a moment to collect my breath and prepare myself against the chaos inside.
“Remember, we’re here for information. No jumping to conclusions,” Ash warns, his voice firm enough to snap me back to reality.
I nod, even though my gut is knotted with anticipation. “Just eyes and ears,” I agree.
As we push through the door, the raucous sounds of laughter and clinking glasses wash over us, and I step into the fray, ready to sift through the noise for the whispers that could lead us to Cali.
Tonight, we aren’t just looking for her; we’re reclaiming our sense of power, inching closer to the truth buried beneath the chaos—a truth that could either set us free or plunge us deeper into darkness. And despite the ominous journey ahead, that flicker of fucking hope is enough to keep me fighting.