Page 96 of The Chemist

They all sat in silence, listening to Diesel’s date call his drug dealer to see if he had any more product up for grabs.

“Okay, I’ll see you in fifteen,” Mr. Yellow said before ending the call and throwing his phone back into his back pocket.

He’d seen enough. No more wasting time.

“That’s it,” Zero growled, grabbing the gun from inside his duffel bag and pulling open the side door of the van.

“Where are you…” Chase shouted from the front seat, but Zero was already halfway across the parking lot, headed straight for Mr. Yellow.

“Zero, don’t do anything stupid,” he heard Marc say over his comms.

Stupid? Him? Never.

Zero reached the man just as he was fishing his keys out of his pocket.

“Where is he?” Zero shouted, punching the asshole right in the face.

The man fell backward, bouncing off the car next to him and landing on one knee.

“What?” the man squeaked, surprised and caught off guard. “Who the fu—” His sentence was cut off when Zero’s leg connected with his gut.

The man let out a gutturaloofthat made even Zero’s stomach clench in pain.

“Diesel? The man you went into the club with. Where is he?”

Terrified, bloodshot eyes stared up at Zero when the man suddenly realized that the tweaked-out little shit he had picked up in a dark parking lot actually belonged to some other crazed man.

“Shit. Uh—I didn’t know. I thought he was single.” The man shielded his face as if anticipating another kick to his person.

“Is he still inside? Why did you come out alone?” Zero’s anger was taking on a life of its own. He had never felt this angry, this protective over somebody else before.

Footsteps behind him caught his attention, causing the beast inside him to take a step back. He was still there, but he was letting Zero remain in control… for the time being, that was.

Chase and Marc appeared a moment later next to Zero.

The asshole still hadn’t answered his question.

“Diesel! Where is he?” Zero shouted, reaching down and yanking the man up to his feet with the strength of a thousand bodybuilders. If he hadn’t been seeing red, he might have been impressed by his strength.

“Zero, shit. Calm down,” Marc warned. At least he was smart enough not to get between Zero and his wrath.

“S-selected. He was selected,” Mr. Yellow spat out, his teeth chattering as his eyes darted between the men surrounding him.

“What? What does that mean?” Zero asked, his grip on the man’s shirt tightening with every second that passed.

“The doc. The doc took him. With the others. They were selected.”

“Selected for what?” Zero asked again, frustrated. He turned to Marc, hoping that his boss might be able to translate this drunk man’s gibberish.

“Perhaps if you put the man down, we can get some actual answers,” Marc huffed out, his cold brown eyes burrowing into Zero’s chest.

“Fuck, fine.” Zero released the man, who was caught by Chase’s arms seconds before his ass hit the ground.

“Now. Speak. What do you mean selected?” Marc asked, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for the bumbling idiot to respond.

Mr. Yellow swallowed hard as he looked back and forth between the strange young men currently crowding him.

“The doc. He throws these parties once a month. He asks us to each bring one junkie, someone we find living on the streets, and he pays us each a thousand pounds and free booze for thenight. Then the doc makes his rounds, deciding which junkies he will take with him when he leaves.”

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