Page 11 of Unmasking Mayhem
“They might have already found her,” Hawk says, set to action. “I've got her in the back room; she's been restless but safe."
“What do you mean?” I ask, worried that we might not be able to protect her like we want.
He then goes into detail about their night, how two masked men appeared in the woods near the water, making my blood turn to ice as fear embeds itself into my bones. As we make our way through the dimly lit apartment, the tension in my gut twists tighter. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched—that the Bloods are closer than we think, if not physically then psychologically. The threat they're capable of hanging like a cloud over our heads. When we reach the back room, I find Whitney curled up on the bed, blinking sleepily at us. Relief floods through me, but it’s short-lived. Her expression shifts when she notices the strain in my eyes.
“Havoc, what’s wrong?” She asks, propping herself up on her elbows, worry evident in her eyes.
“Whitney, I need you to listen carefully. The California Bloods know about you. They might come looking,” I explain, urgency dripping from each word. “We need to go. Now.”
“What? Who’s after me? I thought—”
“To be safe, we can’t discuss it here. Just trust me.” I offer her my hand, pulling her up as Hawk keeps watch by the door, his body rigid and poised to react.
As we make our way out, the air crackles with anxiety, each step feeling like a countdown to impending danger. We’re just about to step over the threshold when the front door slams open, a tidal wave of noise crashing over us. A group of men, draped in the unmistakable colors of the California Bloods, flood into our apartment. Their faces are a mixture of malice and intent, and I know we’ve been cornered.
“Look what we’ve got here—two little rats and a fucking whore hiding in their hole,” one of them sneers, pushing past a stunned Hawk and closing the distance. “Thought you could keep what you stole from us, huh? You should’ve thought twice.”
“We didn't steal your fucking money.” I look nervously at Whitney, fear in her eyes. “Get back,” I hiss, positioning myself between them and Whitney.
The grip on my gun tightens again, and I’m suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of my decisions, every moment leading us here, where death feels almost certain.
I’m prepared to fight to protect Whitney, but as the Bloods advance, I feel the chill of destiny touch my spine—if we make it out of here alive, things will never be the same again.
“Who said it was money we were after?”
Fear surges through me, mingling with the determination to keep her safe as I summon every ounce of courage I possess.
“Run!” I shout, and as I shove Whitney behind me, I brace myself for the confrontation.
It’s not just about survival anymore; it’s about vengeance for the nightmares Dustin has brought to our lives. And I will not let them win.Not today. Not ever.
four
compromised
Cade (“Red”)
Locked & Loaded: sKitz Kraven
The moment the first gunshot echoes through the air, Carter and I charge into the building, fury driving us forward as we kick down the front door. We easily breach the space where we were assured that Whitney was supposed to be safe. Wearing masks to conceal our identities, we make our way to the back, drawn by the chaos, armed with automatic weapons and determination to kill anyone who stands in our fucking way. Aswe burst into the room, we unleash a hail of bullets, our guns roaring like a fucking torrential downpour.
Amidst the chaos, I catch sight of Whitney, huddled in a corner, her hands pressed against her ears, her body rocking back and forth, her head buried between her knees. Bullets zip past her, shattering the glass behind her. My instincts kick in, and I pivot to take down the shooter targeting her, while Carter focuses on neutralizing the other threats. When the shooting subsides, the acrid scent of gunpowder fills the room, thick and heavy. I hear Havoc's faint murmurs, muted beneath the wreckage left by the assault. Rushing to his side, I lift the bookshelf off him, my heart sinking as I see his shirt saturated with blood.
"I’m hit," he groans, breathing heavily beneath his mask.
"Where?" I ask, dropping to my knees to assess his injuries, my training taking over before I can think twice.
"My stomach, but I think there’s more," he mumbles, his body starting to tremble.
I spot the bullet lodged in his upper thigh and swiftly tear off my belt to fashion a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. Using a nearby blanket, I apply pressure to his abdomen, desperately working to control the flow of blood.
"Crow!" Carter calls out, weaving through the smoky debris in search of him.
"I'm over here," Crow replies, emerging from behind an overturned dresser, visibly shaken but unhurt. "Where the hell is Whitney?"
"I'm... I'm right here," she whispers softly, panic threading through her words.
While Carter and Crow rush to her side, I remain with Havoc, my cell phone clutched tightly in my hand as I wrestle with the decision to call for an ambulance. Whitney’s terrified sobs pierce through me, shattering my heart, but I try to keep a distance.Ever since she learned about Carter and me being cops, things have feltdifferent, but I can't blame her, and judging from their silence on the matter, it seems as if she hasn't told them our secret. I force myself to focus, pushing aside the swirling chaos in my mind.
