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"The signal's coming from that alley," I say, pulling my gun from its holster.

We approach cautiously, using the shadows for cover. The alley is narrow, filled with dumpsters and the stench of garbage. And then we see a crumpled form lying half-hidden behind a trash can.

"Valentine," Onyx rushes forward, turning the body over.

Axl's face is a mess of blood and bruises; his signature eyeliner smeared across his swollen cheeks. His leather jacket is torn, and there's a gash along his hairline that's still bleeding.

"Is he alive?" I ask, scanning the alley for any sign of Dahlia.

Onyx presses two fingers to Axl's neck. "Yeah. Barely. We need to get him back to the house."

I holster my gun and help Onyx lift Axl's limp body. He's lighter than I expected. We carry him to the car, laying him across the back seat.

"There's no sign of Dahlia," I say, climbing behind the wheel. "They must have taken her somewhere else."

"If they've hurt her..." Onyx doesn't finish the thought. He doesn't need to.

The drive back is tense and silent. I keep checking the rearview mirror, watching Axl's chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. He looks small somehow, vulnerable without his rock star swagger.

Back at the safe house, we carry Axl to the medical wing and lay him on a bed next to Mara's. I grab the first aid kit while Onyx wets a cloth to clean the blood from Axl's face.

"Should we wake him?" Onyx asks, his voice is uncharacteristically uncertain.

Before I can answer, Axl's eyes fly open. He jerks upright, wild-eyed and disoriented.

"Dahlia!" he shouts, trying to get off the bed. "Where's Dahlia?"

"That's what we want to know," Onyx grabs Axl's shoulders, pushing him back down. "What the fucking hell happened?"

Axl struggles against Onyx's grip for a moment before collapsing back, his face contorting in pain. "We were ambushed. Two vans boxed us in on the way back from my place."

"Who were they?" I ask, pressing a gauze pad to the cut on his forehead.

"Military types, I think. They were wearing black tactical gear, with no insignia." Axl winces as I apply antiseptic. "There were too many of them."

"And Dahlia?" Onyx demands, his voice dropping dangerously low.

Axl's eyes fill with self-loathing. "I tried to fight them off. I told her to lock the doors and call for help." He swallows hard. "But they broke the window. The last thing I saw was them dragging her out of the car. I couldn't... there were too many..."

Onyx's fist connects with Axl's jaw before either of us can react. The crack echoes through the room.

"You were supposed to protect her!" Onyx roars, grabbing Axl by the shirt. "You promised!"

I jump between them, shoving Onyx back. "That's enough! This isn't helping Dahlia!"

"He let them take her!" Onyx snarls, trying to get past me.

"I tried!" Axl shouts back, as blood trickles from his split lip. "You think I wanted this? They hit me with some kind of stun baton! I couldn't even stand!"

"Stop it, both of you!" I push harder against Onyx's chest. "Our priority is finding Dahlia. Everything else can wait."

Onyx backs off, breathing hard through his nose. His eyes still promise violence, but he turns away from Axl.

"How do we find her?" he asks, pacing the small room like a caged animal. "The trail's already cold."

"Not necessarily," Axl wipes blood from his mouth. "She's wearing my necklace, and it has a tracking device. It's an old habit from my wild days. I had too many stalkers."

"Can you access it?"