Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SILAS
“Something’s wrong. I can feel it,” Thorne mumbles in my ear. The locker room is loud with other players hyped up from the great practice, but I can’t get myself to pretend that everything is fine. Not with this burning-hot liquid in my stomach, telling me something is very wrong.
I nod towards Thorne to see if he’s drenched in the same worry coating our skin head to toe. There’s vomit stuck in the back of my throat, and I feel something happening on Havoc’s side of the bond, but I’m not… I–I don’t want to make the wrong call.
But Thorne feels it too. It’s not just me. There is definitely something wrong, and I’m wasting time here thinking about it instead of doing something about it. And with that, I throw my shirt on, more than ready to race to my Pack mates.
I know I can’t get behind the wheel with this much panic in my system. I meet Thorne’s green eyes and nod.
“Let’s go.” We’re storming out of the arena, trying our best to keep it together as we go from a fast walk to a jog out of the place. We don’t have time for questions. I don’t have time to explain; I need to go.
As we reach the car, Havoc’s bond becomes weak. “Silas–” Thorne’s voice wobbles a minute, and I know this isn’t in my head. This is real.
“I’m calling,” I say, sliding into the passenger seat of his car. I don’t know if he is safe right now behind the wheel, but we don’t have any other options. “Get us to them in one piece.”
I try to call Havoc but it goes straight to voicemail. That’s odd. He’s with Noa, maybe they are sleeping? Tangled up? No, they can’t be. They’re working.
I call Noa next, then the store, and each time I don’t get an answer, Thorne is stepping harder on the gas. We are going ten over, and we'll make it to them in seven minutes.
Thorne parks on the street as we notice the crowd a few feet in front of her store. “What the hell is going on?” Thorne asks as we fly out of the car. My mind is racing as I take in the situation, my heart still in my ass.
The store light is on, but the crowd keeps catching my attention. I open the door, and the chill of emptiness covers my arms. They aren’t here.
Turning on my heel to walk out of the store, bumping into Thorne, who is hot on my heels, I finally brace myself for the crowd. I want to believe that it’s a celebrity or something, but my gut tells me that’s not the case.
I didn’t think my heart could get any lower than my ass.
“Havoc,” my voice is low as I spot my Pack mate on the ground. Pushing through the crowd with more vigor, my only thought is to get to my mate. When I finally break through to the surrounding circle, I pause, completely shocked by what I see.
Whatever battle he was in, he lost. Badly.
I rush to my mate, sliding down to my knees and lifting his face by his chin slightly.
He’s got scrapes and bruises already forming on his face, mainly on his hands, but his body seems like it’s much worse under his clothes.
Grasping his side, Havoc meets my eyes, and all I see is a fury I wish I could solve.
“What the hell happened?” Thorne’s voice is sharp as he flocks Havoc’s other side. He’s staring down Havoc, marking every scratch and bruise on him.
The sound of an ambulance makes the crowd disperse a bit, and I can’t believe I didn’t even think to call for help. What kind of leader am I? Fuck. I look back at Havoc, and he’s dazed. His eyes are open but staring off in the distance.
“Havoc,” I growl, but he doesn’t move. Paramedics try to touch him, but I snap at them, not wanting anyone to touch my mate. My injured mate is on the ground, bloody, bruised, and unresponsive.
“Sir, we’re only trying to help.” I hear them, and I know I have to move. I can’t save him. I can’t help my Pack mate, and it’s killing me. I shake my head and force myself to move. They will help him.
They will save him. And we can figure out what happened. In that order.
I watch them as they attempt to lift Havoc, but Havoc’s growl is fierce.
Their gloved hands try again, but he remains unmoved.
He’s not letting them help. This isn’t good.
I try to meet Havoc’s eyes, but he’s not here.
He’s not here mentally; his eyes appear as if there is a film over them, and my heart cracks.
“They got her.” The word slips through Havoc’s bloody mouth, and another chill racks through my body. My eyes slowly drag to Thorne’s, and he knows instantly as well.
Our omega was taken.
“Where?” Thorne asks, and Havoc only nods in the direction in front of him. Anger replaces the fear once coursing through my body, and yet my mind is blank. I can’t get a single thought to fully form. I need a plan. I need to help Havoc and save Noa.
“I can catch them.” Thorne is already headed towards his car, but I stop him at Havoc’s tense nod. He’s shaking his head no, and I know it is already too late.
“Sir, I need you to stand with me.” A paramedic tries to wrap his arms around Havoc, but Havoc shakes them off again.
“I’m fine. I need to get my Omega,” Havoc whispers as he stands on his own. He goes to take a step, but he stumbles a bit, and I have to catch him. He’s more injured than he thinks.
“We’ll find her. You focus on getting better,” I say, trying to get him to stop moving. He’s obviously in pain, and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s nothing I can do about Noa being taken. I failed my Pack, and now I have to do everything in my power to get them back.
Thorne is worried. Havoc is hurt, and Noa is in danger.
Fuck. I run my hand over my head, looking around for any sign of…
I don’t know. Anything that could help me fix this fucking mess.
Wrapping my arm around Havoc’s back, lifting him with Thorne on his other side, we take him to the ambulance truck.
He sits on the edge where it opens in the back.
“One of us stays here, the other looks for clues, and I’ll talk to the police. They kidnapped her. Everyone here had to have seen it–” I say, trying my best to sound like I know what the fuck I’m talking about.
“RWI-0191.”
I whip my head back to stare at Havoc as he keeps repeating these numbers. He mumbles them over and over, and I’m trying to make sense of them, but nothing lights up in my brain about what these numbers mean.
“I’ll write it down,” Thorne says, pulling his phone out.
“License plate number,” the paramedic mutters as he checks Havoc’s stomach, pressing and watching him flinch.
My face flushes as I realize that Havoc is indeed rambling a license plate number. Of course my mate gets every piece of information he can; he’s so damn smart.
“We’ll start with the police, then we’ll go to the rental car center. Maybe they can give information on where they are headed,” I say. I nod towards Thorne, deciding he’ll stay. If they go off, there is nothing anyone can do to stop these two, but at least they’ll have each other.