Chapter 80 Havoc
Havoc
The Tavern is locked down.
Windows covered.
Entries secured.
Men moving with purpose.
But it’s not enough.
Because someone already got inside.
Which means we’re behind.
I don’t like being behind.
“Perimeter’s clear,” Ace calls from the front. “No movement outside.”
“Too clean,” I mutter.
Because it is.
Whoever came in knew what they were doing.
This wasn’t sloppy.
This was planned.
Targeted.
My gaze sweeps the room, tracking movement, counting heads.
Always counting.
Always knowing where everyone is.
Aspen stays close to me like I told her to.
Good.
Smart.
Her eyes move constantly, taking everything in.
Not panicked.
Focused.
Stronger than most people in this situation.
Stronger than she probably realizes.
Dylan is still in the room upstairs with Rylie and Grandpa, playing with his Xbox One, one of the guys posted outside the door.
Safe.
As safe as we can make him right now.
“Kitchen’s clear,” another voice calls.
“Back hall clear.”
“Storage is clear.”
Clear. Clear. Clear.
Too many clears.
Something’s off.
I feel it.
That quiet edge just before something breaks.
I shift slightly, scanning again.
Faces.
Positions.
Movement.
Then—
“Hey…”
The voice cuts through everything.
Older.
Uneasy.
One of the locals. He’s here with us because he said grandpa needed him.
“Where’s George?”
I go still.
“George?”
“Grandpa.”
Aspen’s grandfather.
I turn slowly.
“What?” I ask.
The man frowns, looking around.
“He was just here,” he says. “Sitting by the fireplace.”
Aspen’s head snaps toward us.
“What do you mean was?” she asks, already moving.
My pulse spikes.
Not good.
Not good at all.
“When was the last time you saw him?” I demand.
“Five… maybe ten minutes ago?” the man says. “I thought he went to the restroom.”
Aspen is already shaking her head.
“No,” she says. “He would’ve told me. He always tells me. I don’t know why but he does.”
There it is.
That edge.
That instinct.
I move.
Fast.
“Check bathrooms,” I snap. “Now.”
Two guys peel off immediately.
I head for the back hall, Aspen right behind me.
“Aspen—”
“I’m not staying behind,” she shoots back.
No time to argue.
We clear the first bathroom.
Empty.
Second—
Empty.
Kitchen.
Empty.
My jaw tightens.
“Back door,” I say.
We move together.
The back hallway feels colder.
Quieter.
Wrong.
The door at the end—
Is cracked open.
Just slightly.
Every instinct I have goes sharp.
I slow my steps.
Weapon up.
Careful.
Controlled.
I push the door open with my foot.
It creaks softly.
Outside—
Nothing.
No movement.
No sound.
But the night air rushes in like something just slipped out into it.
“Damn it,” I breathe.
Aspen steps past me before I can stop her.
“Havoc—”
“Wait—”
Too late.
She’s already outside.
Spinning.
Looking.
“Grandpa!” she calls, her voice cutting through the darkness. “We have to find him. He has dementia. He can’t take care of himself.”
No answer.
The yard stretches out in shadow.
The old farm is half a mile away. We don’t even know if that’s where he went.
Too many places to hide.
Too many places to disappear.
My gaze drops.
And that’s when I see it.
Near the threshold.
On the ground.
Wooden.
I crouch.
Pick it up.
A cane.
Old.
Worn.
Familiar.
My stomach drops.
Because that?
That’s not something he leaves behind.
“Aspen,” I say quietly.
She turns.
Sees it in my hand.
And I watch the exact moment everything inside her breaks.
“No…” she breathes, shaking her head. “No, he wouldn’t—he needs that—”
Exactly.
“He didn’t walk out of here,” I say.
Her eyes snap to mine.
Wide.
Terrified.
“What are you saying?”
I hold her gaze.
Steady.
Grounding.
“He didn’t leave on his own.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Crushing.
Then—
“No,” she whispers. “No, no, no—”
I’m already moving.
Turning back toward the Tavern.
“Lock it down!” I bark. “Nobody in or out!”
The team snaps into motion instantly.
“What do we have?” Trigger asks.
“Grandpa’s gone,” I say. “Back door was cracked. Cane left behind.”
His expression darkens.
“Damn.”
“Perimeter sweep,” I order. “Full grid. Lights out. Quiet.”
Because if they took him—
They’re not far.
Not yet.
Aspen grabs my arm.
Hard.
“You’re not leaving me behind,” she says.
Not a question.
A demand.
Her eyes are glassy now.
Fear clawing its way through her strength.
But she’s still standing.
Still fighting.
“I’m not,” I tell her.
And I mean it.
Because this?
This just changed everything.
Her voice breaks.
“They took him,” she says. “They took him because of me.”
“No,” I say firmly.
Her head shakes.
“Yes—this is about me—about us—”
I step closer.
Grip her shoulders.
Make her look at me.
“Listen to me,” I say, low and steady. “We don’t know that yet. It’s not on you; it’s on whatever Tank knew, not you.”
But we both do.
We both feel it.
And I see it in her face—
That spiral.
That guilt.
That fear.
I don’t let it take her.
“We’re getting him back,” I say.
Not a promise.
A fact.
Her breath catches.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Because I’m already planning it.
Already tracking it.
Already seeing the ways this plays out.
And none of them end with us losing.
Her fingers clutch my shirt.
“You don’t understand,” she says, voice breaking. “I promised Tank I would take care of his grandpa—”
I pull her into me.
Tight.
Solid.
“We’ll get him back,” I say quietly.
She stills.
Just for a second.
Because she feels it.
What I’m saying.
What I’m offering.
Then I pull back just enough to look at her.
“We’re getting him back,” I repeat.
And this time—
It’s not just strategy.
It’s personal.
Because they didn’t just take an old man.
They took hers, the one she was responsible for.
I can see the guilt in her eyes.
“Stay with Dylan, I’ll be back.”
I should have known she would ignore me.