(Next 5-10 chapters will be Haiden and Christian pov)
Trigger Warning: Violence, Blood, and weapons!
Christian Pov:
The amber liquid burned its way down my throat, a familiar comfort against the gnawing anxiety. Weeks. Weeks since Hailey had vanished, swallowed by the city like a raindrop in the ocean. No leads, no ransom demands, nothing but a chilling silence that echoed louder than any gunshot.
Here, in Xan's safe house, the air hung thick with unspoken dread. Xan, his red hair a vibrant contrast to the grim atmosphere, shuffled cards with practiced ease, dealing out a poker hand that no one was truly invested in. Zack, ever the stoic warrior, nursed a drink that could probably strip paint. And Haiden… Haiden was sprawled on the couch, face buried in the cushions, a dark, brooding figure of exhaustion. He carried the weight of this loss heavier than any of us.
My knuckles throbbed, a lingering reminder of the brawl just hours ago. Another wave of Leo's goons, another desperate scramble to defend what was ours. Not territory, not money – Hailey. They were trying to get to Hailey.
I finished my whiskey, the glass clinking against the countertop. This wasn't living. This was existing in a nightmare, a slow, agonizing slide into despair. I couldn't breathe without her. The thought slammed into me, a brutal wave of panic. I had to find her.
My mind flashed back to the chaos of yesterday, to the blood and the fury.
(Flashback)
The warehouse reeked of sweat and gunpowder. Leo's bastards came at us like rabid dogs, a relentless tide of fists, knives, and cheap metal. Haiden moved like a whirlwind, a dark blur of lethal grace. He disarmed one man, using the guy's own knife to bury it in his shoulder, then spun and delivered a brutal kick to another's jaw, sending him sprawling. Xan, surprisingly agile for his size, used his bulk to his advantage, smashing faces into walls and furniture. Zack, a whirlwind of orange hair and raw power, punched through the enemy like they were paper. I traded blow for blow, adrenaline masking the pain as I dodged a rusty pipe, snapped a man's arm, and felt the satisfying crunch of bone under my fist.
Haiden took the brunt of it. He moved fast, but they were relentless. A knife grazed his arm, leaving a crimson trail. Another blow connected with his ribs. His face was a mask of controlled fury, his hazel eyes burning with a cold, calculating intensity. At one point, two thugs had him pinned against a stack of crates. I saw the desperation flicker in his gaze before he unleashed a primal scream, bucking and twisting, throwing them off balance. He quickly snapped one's neck, and grabbed the other for a quick headbutt that knocked him out cold.
The fight was a brutal dance of survival, a symphony of grunts, screams, and the sickening thud of flesh on flesh. When the last thug fell, silence descended, heavy and thick. We were bruised, battered, and bleeding, but alive. Haiden stood in the center of the carnage, chest heaving, blood dripping from his knuckles. He looked like a god of war, magnificent and terrifying.
(End Flashback)
The memory faded, leaving me cold and sick. Haiden… he'd taken the most damage. He'd carry the physical scars, but the mental ones were what truly worried me.
My phone buzzed, shattering the silence. An unknown number. I almost ignored it, but something nagged at me. I answered it, bracing myself for another threat, another dead end.
"Christian Montes," I said, my voice tight.
"Christian," the voice on the other end was raspy, aged, and instantly recognizable. "It's your father."
My jaw clenched. My father. We hadn't spoken in over a year. A complicated relationship, to say the least. "What do you want?"
"I have information about Leo," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Information that could be… useful."
Hope, fragile and tentative, flickered within me. "What kind of information?"
"He's been in contact with the Skulls," My father said.
I straightened up immediately. The Skulls? The Skulls were notorious for their ruthlessness and unpredictable nature.
"The Skulls?" I repeated, making sure I heard him correctly.
"Yes, but there's more. They've gotten support from elites recently. The Deadliest Assassins. Leo and the Skulls working with the Elites… that's bad news,"
The color drained from my face. The Elites were legends, whispered about in hushed tones. Masters of stealth, precision, and absolute carnage. If Leo had managed to enlist their services, we were facing a whole new level of threat.
"They're planning something big, Christian. Something that will shake this city to its core. I thought you should know."
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, suspicion lacing my voice. My father never did anything out of the goodness of his heart.
"Let's just say I have my own reasons," he said, his voice cryptic. "Be careful, Christian. This is more dangerous than you can imagine."
The line went dead. I stared at the phone, my mind racing. My father, of all people, giving us a warning. Something was definitely off. But the information… the information was invaluable.
I turned to Xan and Zack, my voice grim. "My father just called. He says Leo is working with the Skulls and that they have been getting help from the elites.
Xan swore under his breath, his fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop. Zack's face hardened, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun holstered at his hip.
"The Elites?" Xan murmured, his eyes wide with disbelief. "That changes everything. We need to verify this."
Within minutes, Xan had confirmed my father's information. Leo had indeed forged an alliance with the Skulls, and whispers of the Elite's involvement were circulating in the underworld.
Zack was already on the phone, barking orders, summoning our allies. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the air crackling with tension. This was no longer just a fight for survival. This was war.