Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
HAVOC
Imade a call I never thought I’d have to make when I left the mafia world behind. Yet, here I am, dialing a number I hoped never to have to use.
But for Noa, I’d sacrifice my freedom from the mafia, even from the government if it meant she’d be safe.
My old Boss’s number is one I’d never forget. He has one phone; he’d never change the number, either. One phone for his inner circle of four. His Pack mate, his omega, his enforcer, and me.
The second the address came in from an unknown number, Thorne and I had a direction to speed off into. I type the address of the Fallon Pack into his GPS.
“Seven hours,” Thorne spits, seeing the GSP’s estimated time. That means Noa will be there in six hours.
“Step on the damn gas, Thorne, and as long as we don’t get caught, we can shave two hours.”
“Two fucking hours, Havoc?” The ringing of my phone cuts his outburst short.
“Silas?” I answer.
“Where the hell are you?” His voice is sharp and panicked as he answers the phone. He must be home, noticing that we had already left or knowing better than to think that we’d wait around for help.
“We found her,” I say. My gut turns with worry as I stare at the time blaring at me from Thorne’s radio.
“Where?” I sigh before answering him and glance at Thorne, who slowed down his speed—probably knowing where this conversation is going.
“Ohio-”
“You come get me right now.”
“We don’t have time–”
“Make time. We are a Pack, and we’ll save our omega together. Now get your asses here.” His voice is stern, and I know he’s one second away from commanding us. His lead position came to his advantage.
“We don’t have time to waste.”
“It’s not a waste to ensure you have all resources with you and ready.” He says. “I’m at the police station, pass it anyway.”
“We’re barely stopping the car,” Thorne mutters, and Silas somehow hears him because he chuckles. “I wouldn’t want you to. We have an omega to save.”
His stop added two minutes to our travel time, and I really hoped those two minutes would be helpful. It made us even—three of them, three of us.
The scenic drive from Tennessee to Ohio could have been beautiful. It could have been a journey we took with our omega, in a dream world, where she showed us where she came from, was something to be cherished and appreciated.
But it wasn’t. Not for her, not for me, not for Thorne. We were the unlucky few who didn’t have families who loved and protected us.
The ride was long, and I had half an urge to run my ass to Ohio.
Knowing she’s trapped in a car at least two hours ahead of us is killing me inside.
Not to mention the adrenaline has worn off a bit, and the pain in my side is reaching levels I haven’t experienced in a long time.
Bullet wounds are typically sharp and quick, but my entire left side is inflamed.
I know I should have gotten checked up by those medics, but I know in my gut we don’t have time.
I need her to be okay. I need her to be safe. I haven’t told the guys; I need their minds to be clear, but her scent changed this morning. I should have forced her to stay home, her heat on the horizon, but she was so happy this morning, how could I tell her no? Plus, I was there.
I was right there and lost her.
My side aches as I think of what they could be doing to her.
My alpha rages inside, completely ignoring the fact I was hit by a car seven hours ago.
The pain in my body from the impact doesn’t compare to the pain of seeing the Fallons beat us here.
But at least I can feel her heat, her pain, in my bond, and my alpha wants to rip this car door open and rush in there, but I don’t know if they are ready, guns blazing on the other side.
It’s time to get our omega back.
I take the lead, being the most experienced and the largest, while Thorne and Silas lag behind. I peek at them, stepping into a world they know nothing about. One where only the most capable survive, and I hope they are ready.
The Fallons won’t let her go. Not as long as they are still breathing.
I’m sure they know we are here. I had Thorne pull the car in front of their house.
I’m not hiding, and I’m damn sure not waiting.
They had to know we’d do anything for Noa, just as they would.
Our agendas are different, but the goal is the same.
While we want her to flourish, to be loved, to be happy, they want control, possession, power, and that’s not fucking happening.
Her heat sends lingering whips of desperation through our bond, getting stronger with each step I take, empowering every fiber in my body to rip this door off its hinges.
Their beige door, covered in dust and cobwebs, screams neglect. Either they were never the cleanest, or their focus has been getting their hands on my omega for far too long.
I debate for a second, but then I swear I hear Noa whine, and my brain shuts off. Ramming my shoulder into the door, it breaks in two. Rushing inside, I can smell her. Her sour peach scent calls to me, and I see the three fuckers standing in the kitchen across from the front of the house.
Their heads switch to us, and I hope they only just got here. How they are resisting my sweethearts’ heat, her scent luring the alphas in us forward, I’m not sure, but I'm damn glad they are.
“How the fuck did you find us?” Jackson’s voice spits, but everything is in motion. They step back away from the door she must be in, scared, and I think maybe, just maybe, they’ll let her go to us. It makes me hesitate for the slightest moment before I hear Noa pounding on the door.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, storming to them.
Mayfield jumps at me first. His fist coming for my face.
I turn my head to lessen the blow as I hook my arms around him and lift.
Slamming him down, I stomp on his gut. Mayfield screams, and Derrick is in my face next, waving a gun, trying to take aim it at me.
I lunge forward, throwing him off. I’ve got both hands grasping his gun, his momentary shock allowing me to yank the gun from him and empty the chamber.
Taking the gun apart, I throw the pieces to different sides of the house except for the butt and slam it down on Derrick’s head, making him drop to the floor.
Stepping away from him, I see the target I want the most.
Jackson. He stares. Maybe he hadn’t done his homework. Maybe thought that Noa's scent matched prissy hockey players with an oddball who couldn’t handle his weight in a fight. I don’t know.
All I know is he was dead wrong. And this mistake is going to cost him dearly. Anyone with a brain cell could tell Thorne has aggression problems. A fighter on the ice and off, Thorne is the grump no one tries and everyone actively avoids. It’s why we get along so well.
And Silas. Silas is our calm storm, but still a storm nonetheless. Silas’s control often gets confused for weakness, but he’s the silent fighter I’d choose to be on my team every single time.
Any mafia, gang, or government entity would love to have its hands on us. We’ve got base talent and, more than that, we have drive.
Too bad, we wanted a peaceful life.
Jackson takes a key from his hand and throws it out the open window. “Now no one gets her.” He says. A crazed look in his blue eyes made his appearance more deranged.
More enticing to see crushed under my boot.
But I have something more important waiting for me.
With one quick gaze around the kitchen, I find what I need.
Lunging for Jackson, I grab him by his hair and drag him around the island.
Taking his hand and laying it flat on the table, taking a butcher’s knife from the block, and smiling as he tries his damndest to get out of my grip.
“You touched my omega with this hand.” Flashes of him gripping her arm, her hair, as he dragged her out of her place of business, out of what should have been a safe place play in my mind the longer I stare at him.
“No, no,” he whispers, eyeing the knife in my hand. But it’s too late. He touched my omega. And for that, he must lose his hand.
I stab the knife through his hand, going deep into the counter. Hearing the satisfying grunt of the counter, I can’t stop the small smile that breaks through my lips. This’ll buy us the time to get my omega into the safety of Thorne’s car.
Hearing the bloodcurdling scream Jackson lets out eases the tension in my shoulders as I step away from him. Rounding the counter, my bond pulls me closer to where Noa is. The pantry is small, so I won’t have room to break down the door.
“Noa, sweetheart, we’re here.” I press against the door, and I hear her moan in pain on the other side. Fuck. I try the handle, but nothing happens. They prepared for at least this much.
Quickly turning around, I open cabinets, trying to find anything to help me open this door. Hearing the grunts of Mayfield and Derrick, I continue my search, knowing that Thorne and Silas might actually have fun pounding these men unconscious, which is a problem for another time.
I hope they know boxing is the appropriate career choice, not hitman work.
I stop at the last fucking cabinet. I tilt my head, eyeing the doorknob. This could work.
Grabbing the iron frying pan, storming past a crying Jackson, still too pussy to grab the knife out of his hand, I swing at the door handle. It takes a few swings, but the minute it falls off the door, I open the door, and her scent slams into me as I kneel to gather her in my arms.
“Sweetheart,” I can’t help but repeat the nickname as I tuck her body close to my chest. Thorne and Silas appear at my sides, heavy breathing.
Noa shakes in my arms as she curls her head into my neck. I sigh, breathing much easier with her less sour peach scent filling my nose. I stand, carrying her bridal style out of this damn house.
“I have no interest in doing this ever again, but I know I would if it meant helping any of you.” Silas says, “But they won’t be down long; we have to go.” Silas says as we step outside. As much as Noa writhes in my arms, nothing matters more to me than keeping her safe.
And she won’t be safe with them alive.
I gently put her shaking body into Silas’s arms. Her whines and moans almost break me. But I know what I must do as her alpha.
I have to think of her safety in the long term.
“Keep her safe in the car. I have something to deal with,” I say. Kissing the top of her head. Turning towards the house kills me, but I can’t risk my omega.
Stepping inside the darkened house, I can feel my Pack members staring at me. But I don’t have time to waste.
Grabbing Mayfield, I throw him on the couch, find the rope they must have planned to use on Noa, and tie a noose around his neck and pull it tight around what must be a closet door handle for now.
Next is Derrick. His handcuffs are easy to find. I drag his bloody body to the expensive coffee table that seems to weigh a few hundred pounds and handcuff him to it.
Now, Jackson, I return to the kitchen. Jackson is covered in sweat, and tears fall down his face as I admire the sight for a second.
He is completely focused on trying to get the knife out of his hand, but in a few minutes, that’ll be the least of his problems. His eyes jut over to me, and I have the nerve to smirk.
“You fucking–” I cut him off. Taking his hand by the knife handle and leading him to the living room, where my little meeting is. He tries to swing at me, fight still in him, and I shove him down onto the wood floor and smile as he struggles to get back up.
“I’ll keep my little monologue short, but you missed the most important step in doing literally anything, and that is knowing what you’re up against,” I say slowly, walking around the kitchen picking up the pieces of the gun I disassembled earlier.
“Your offenses are endless, but as of right now, you're keeping me from my omega, my omega who’s in heat at that, and that can’t go unpunished now, can it? ”