Page 75 of Doyle

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DOYLE/ MICHAEL

DOYLE

Despite the wound in my chest still aching, I shifted into my dragon form and took to the skies, flying towards Oak Meadow as fast as my wings could carry me.

The night air rushed past me, the stars blurring into streaks of light. Every beat of my wings was fueled by a growing sense of dread.

Matthew had confirmed Michael was on his way there, but something in my gut told me things weren't right.

As the hours passed, the sky darkened, and the landscape below became a patchwork of shadows.

Night had fully fallen by the time I landed silently on Matthew's rooftop.

The darkness cloaked my massive figure, hiding me from any prying eyes.

I jumped off the roof, shifting back to human form mid-air, and landed softly in the backyard.

Immediately, a sense of unease washed over me.

The back door to the kitchen was swinging on its hinges, creaking in the night breeze.

My nose picked up three unfamiliar, unpleasant scents that did not belong to Michael or his dad.

Panic surged through me as I ran inside, calling out their names.

"Doyle, over here," croaked a voice.

I followed the sound to the living room and found Matthew, bleeding and tied to a chair.

Blood dripped from a gunshot wound in his shoulder, and his face was a mess of bruises.

I rushed to his side, untying the ropes with shaky hands.

"Matthew, what happened? Where's Michael?" I demanded, my voice rough with worry.

"Morgan and two witches... they took him," Matthew rasped, grabbing my arm with a trembling hand. "You have to go after them, Doyle."

Rage and fear battled within me. I wanted to fly out immediately and hunt those bastards down, but I forced myself to stay calm.

"Where's the first aid kit?" I asked.

Matthew pointed weakly towards the kitchen.

I found the kit and quickly tended to his injuries, applying pressure to the worst of his wounds.

My mind raced with thoughts of Michael, once more a captive of the Payne Coven.

"Did you hear where they're taking him?" I asked, hopeful for any lead.

"I heard them talking about an abandoned mine. There's only one around here... Silvercrest Mine. It's half a day's drive, but faster for you if you flew," Matthew said, wincing as I bandaged his arm.

"Go, Doyle. I'll be fine. The paramedics will be here any moment. Bring Michael back,” he said.

I nodded, my resolve hardening.

"You can count on me," I said.

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