Page 93 of Rampage

I move through the small space in a daze, cataloging details with the detached precision of someone in shock. The table shoved against the wall. Her half-packed box spilled across the floor. A cracked cell phone beneath the window.

My fingers tremble as I pick up the phone, the screen flickering weakly with three missed calls from me. Rage rises like bile in my throat, hot and acidic. Someone has taken her. Again.

"Reid?" Deb appears in the doorway, her face draining of color as she takes in the scene. "Oh my God. What happened? Where's Lily?"

"They took her," I snarl, the words tearing from my throat like shards of glass. I shove past Deb, thundering down the stairs with such force the wooden steps creak beneath my boots. My vision narrows to a red tunnel as I burst into the alley, scanning frantically for any sign, any clue.

Tire marks streak the pavement—fresh, dark rubber burned into asphalt from a vehicle peeling away at high speed. I follow them to the street where they disappear into traffic.

Gone.

She's gone.

Fury explodes in my chest, a primal roar ripping from my lungs as I slam my fist into the brick wall. Pain splinters through my knuckles, but I barely register it through the storm of rage and terror consuming me.

I vault onto my motorcycle, gunning the engine with such violence the front wheel lifts off the ground. The wind tears at my face as I weave through traffic at suicidal speed, running red lights, cutting between cars, the only thought in my mind a desperate litany: Lily, Lily, Lily.

The clubhouse comes into view, and I skid into the lot, leaving my bike sprawled on its side as I sprint toward the entrance. I slam through the doors with enough force to rattle the hinges, wild-eyed and breathing like a wounded animal.

"They took her!" I roar, my voice cracking with desperation. "Someone fucking took Lily!"

The room erupts into motion, Lane barking orders, Mason already reaching for weapons, and Christopher on the phone activating our network of informants.

Mason grips my shoulders, his eyes hard with determination. "We'll find her, brother. We'll tear this fucking town apart if we have to."

Lane barks orders into his phone, his voice clipped and authoritative. "Full lockdown. Every available man. Roadblocks on all exits from town. Christopher, get the security footage from the businesses around the diner. I want eyes on every vehicle that passed through that area from when Reid last saw her."

The clubhouse erupts into organized chaos with members pouring in, weapons being distributed, teams forming with practiced ease. I pace like a caged animal, unable to stand still, unable to think clearly through the haze of terror.

"Who would take her?" I demand of no one in particular, my hands fisting in my hair. "Frank's in prison. Peterson's dead. Who the fuck else would?—"

The door opens to the clubhouse and in walks Greyson, the Devil Souls MC’s son. He takes in the room. “What the fuck’s happening?”

I turn my head, the reality crashing into me once again that someone has her, that Lily is probably so terrified.

I pick up a chair from the dining room and throw it against the wall where it shatters into pieces.

My rage explodes like a bomb, fury burning through every nerve ending. Greyson's eyes widen at my outburst, but he recovers quickly.

"Someone took Lily," Lane explains, his voice tight with controlled anger. "Just hours ago from her apartment."

Greyson's expression darkens immediately. "Frank's people?"

"We don't know yet," Christopher says, spreading maps across the table. "But we've got men checking every known associate."

My father steps in front of me, gripping my shoulders with calloused hands. "Son, you need to get it together. Lily needs you thinking clearly, not losing your shit."

His words cut through the red haze of my panic. He's right. Lily doesn't need my rage, she needs my focus, my strategy, my absolute commitment to finding her.

"The trial," I say suddenly, my mind finally making connections. "Frank's trial starts next week. Lily's the key witness."

Lane's head snaps up. "Witness intimidation. Or elimination."

"Call Tiffany," I order, already pulling out my phone. "She'll know who's still loyal to Frank, who might have resources on the outside."

As I dial, Greyson steps closer. "Devil Souls are with you. I can have thirty men here in an hour, another fifty by nightfall."

I nod gratefully, the alliance between our clubs never more important than now. "Tell them to bring tracking equipment. And weapons. Whoever took her isn't walking away from this."

---