70. Dre
Chapter seventy
Dre
I 'm pacing back and forth like a caged animal in Saint's bedroom, each step echoing the rapid drumming of my heart. My skin is tight, itching with a restlessness that won't be calmed. Chess is slumped on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands, looking every bit the image of despair. Saint just stands by the window, staring out into nothing, his expression hollow, as if someone has carved out a piece of him.
"Saint, man," I say, my voice rough with urgency, "we gotta do something."
He doesn't respond, just keeps staring out the window, and it’s as if he's made of stone. Snowflake wasn't at school today. Not a word, not a whisper from her, and it's killing us. We need to talk to her, explain ourselves, try to fix this mess we've made.
"Chess?" I glance over at him, hoping for some kind of plan, but he just shakes his head slowly, eyes red-rimmed and lost.
"I can't stand this," I mutter and rake a hand through my hair, pulling at the roots. "She's gotta hear us out."
"Maybe she doesn't want to," Chess whispers, his voice cracking. "Dude, we screwed up bad."
My fists clench at my sides. "We'll make her understand. We have to."
I think back to the number of times I've driven out to the Winthrop estate since last night, how I gave Snowflake the space I thought she needed the first night. I didn't like her in that house, but she had the wedge to keep them out and she had the phone we got her. She could reach out if she wanted to, needed to, but silence was all we got.
After school today, desperation clawed at me, and I decided to climb through her window, but I was met with a fortress. The security presence had tripled overnight. It was like trying to break into Fort Knox.
"Every damn time, more guards," I growl. "It’s like they know we’ll come for her."
Saint finally turns from the window, his dark eyes burning with something fierce. "Then we find another way."
"Security's no joke, Saint," I remind him, thinking about the patrols, the cameras, the high walls. "Getting past them isn't going to be easy."
I stop my restless pacing and plant my feet as the door to Saint's bedroom bursts open, a gust of fresh determination sweeping in with Gen's arrival. She stands there, hands on hips, her gaze scanning the room like she's ready to command an army.
"Look at you three, the saddest bunch I've ever seen," she declares, her voice slicing through the tension that's thick enough to choke on.
"Addy's not answering any of my messages," she continues, eyeing each of us like we're puzzles missing pieces. "What did you guys do?"
Chess's eyes are rimmed red, his usual mischief drowned out by misery. "We fucked up, Gen," he chokes out, voice breaking. "We... she...we fucked up."
Gen's face hardens like ice, a storm brewing behind those sharp eyes. "Then let's go get her."
"Gen, I tried," I interject, frustration edging my words. "Security is swarming the Winthrop estate. It's locked down tighter than Alcatraz."
She scoffs, a sound that mocks my helplessness, and steps closer. "My dad owns a private security company, remember? They do 'special' missions all the time. Trust me, Dre, they can get to Addy."
"Are you serious?" My heart hammers against my chest, hope mingling with the adrenaline already pumping through my veins.
"Absolutely." Her confidence is a beacon in the darkness we've been stumbling through. "It's not safe for her in that house. We need to act now."
But can we? I mean the man is a sitting senator. It wouldn't look good on us if we broke into his house just because we wanted our girl back and she wasn't answering our messages.
The tension in Saint's bedroom is a live wire, crackling through the air, making my skin prickle with every erratic step I take. Saint's face is stone, his dark curls a wild halo around his head that matches the turmoil in his eyes—the same turmoil that's been eating at me since we realized just how badly we fucked up.
"Dammit, we have to do something!" I snap, slamming my palm against the wall, feeling it reverberate through my bones.
Saint's head whips toward me, and I see it—the break. The usually unflappable, observant Saint is fracturing before us. "Do what, Dre?" he snarls, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "We're caged animals here, useless!"
I'm pacing again, the knife in my hand an extension of the restless energy that refuses to be contained. Each click of the blade marks time, measures out my desperation. "I want to rip apart anyone who's keeping her from us." My voice is a growl, barely recognizable. "I want my Snowflake."
Chess is silent, but his hands clench and unclench as if he's fighting his own inner battle. We're all on the edge, ready to leap into the abyss for her.
And then, without warning, the shrill alarm cuts through the room. As one, our heads whip toward the sound: the emergency signal from Chess's app—a cry for help from Addy herself.
No one moves. No one breathes. Time congeals around us like thick molasses. That sound—it's a beacon, a siren song, and a death knell all at once. It means she needs us now more than ever.
"Chess," I say, my throat dry, my heart pounding against my ribcage like it's trying to escape. "Is it—"
He nods, his face pale. "It's her. It's the signal."
"Jesus," Saint whispers, the color drained from his face, but his eyes are ignited with a fierce light. "We need to get her. Now."
"Then let's get out girl." I close the knife with a sharp click and meet their gazes. "We can't let her down. Not again."
"Then we move," Chess says, determination replacing the despair. "Now."
"Right behind you," Saint says, standing tall, the leader in him rising to the surface despite the cracks in his armor.
"Let's get our girl," I echo, and the weight in my chest lifts just enough to let me breathe. We're coming, Snowflake. Hold on.
??????
I pace the length of the conference room, my knife flicking open and closed in an endless, rhythmic loop. It's a small comfort, that familiar click and snap, but it's something to hold onto when everything else feels like it's spiraling out of control.
"Sit down, Dre," Chess murmurs, his own leg bouncing with nervous energy.
"I can't." My voice is a growl, barely recognizable. "I need to be doing something."
Saint stands sentinel by the window, arms crossed, his dark eyes tracking my every move. He doesn't say a word; he doesn't need to. His presence alone is enough to remind me we're not alone in this.
The door swings open abruptly and Mason strides in, followed by a group of men who exude danger from every pore. I recognize some of them by sight, if not by name—the elite team Mason's called in.
"Ranger," Saint nods to Xander as he enters. The man acknowledges him with a sharp nod, his gaze sweeping the room like he's already calculating exits and entries.
"Wolf," Chess greets Kai with a tight smile, one that isn't returned. Kai's focus is on the task at hand, his expression unreadable.
"Hawk," I acknowledge Dalton with a tilt of my head, noting the way his eyes linger on my knife before meeting my gaze.
"Okay, let's get to work," Mason declares, his voice filling the room with authority. We gather around the large table, maps and screens flickering to life with a tap of his fingers.
"Here's what we know," Mason begins, and everyone leans in. "Addy's at the Winthrop estate. Security's tight, but not impenetrable. We need to extract her safely and quickly."
"Get in, get her, get out," Ranger summarizes, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Obviously there are complications. It's not just the security, this is a senator's home. No matter how slimy the man is, we need to tread carefully.
"Nothing matters more than getting her back," Saint says, steel in his voice. "She's...she's everything."
"Damn right," I spit out, the knife in my hand clicking faster. "And if anyone's hurt her—"
"We understand, Wraith," Wolf interjects, his voice calm but firm. "We're all on the same page here."
"Good," Chess cuts in, standing up. His youthful face is set in grim determination. "Because I'm not sitting this one out."
"None of us are," I affirm, locking eyes with each member of the team. "Not until she's with us again."
"Relax, boys," Hawk says, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "We'll get your girl."
"Let's gear up then," Saint commands, and we all rise, a united front ready for the battle ahead. This time, there's no holding back. We're coming for you, Snowflake.