Page 65 of Rolling 75 (The Noire Brothers #1)

RYKER

“T ell me you fucking have her,” I demand as a hiss streams from the courtroom and a series of booms thunders from outside.

“We’ll get her.” Kane’s voice is steady as it comes through the phone, but it’s laced with stress and the panting breaths of him running, matching the pandemonium I’m engulfed in.

“I’ve got all the exits manned. But people are pouring out so fast. This has to be a diversion.

It’s fucking chaos. No smoke. No destruction. ”

A diversion makes sense. There was no shaking or crumbling. If I had to guess what caused it, I’d go with flash-bangs, which are used to stun.

The fucking rent-a-cops blast through the wide-open halls, shouting to people to stay calm and move to the lobby.

No one appears to be mollified by their orders.

They shouldn’t be. It’s undoubtedly one of their own who handled this inside job.

I know three who can be bought. If I can’t determine which one is involved, I’ve already resolved to end them all.

Ignoring the roared demands, I slip through the cracked-open door. The empty courtroom is now foggy with the pungent scent of pepper and apple blossoms. Someone threw a tear-gas grenade in here, which tells me this is the fastest way to get to Mercy.

As I bolt through the smog, my eyes and nose instantly burning, I update Kane. “I’m headed toward the back. Should be the exit on the west side of the building, near the judges’ entrance. Meet me there.”

I glance at the tracking app on my phone again, but it still shows her here. It’s not precise enough to denote differences within the building. At least they haven’t relocated her.

Returning it to my pants pocket, I shrug off my suit jacket, holding it against my mouth and nose as I rush through the smog. It’s not a foolproof solution. The gas still seeps into my nostrils, making my throat raw and my lungs heavy.

Mercy’s bag is abandoned on the defense table. Nausea has bile coating my tongue at the sight, heightened by the tear gas.

Grabbing it, I cough a few times, but I’m through the majority of the fog quickly, throwing my suit jacket back on and heading out the door to the back hallway.

My breaths are labored, my pulse is pounding, and my thirst for vengeance is at an all-time high.

Hope. I will find her and decimate every soul who caused her pain.

I have to. I won’t survive without her.

Another boom blasts outside. Another diversion.

Every direction I look, there are visible signs of people vacating in a rush. Doors open, items dropped, papers scattered.

I swiftly dart past the offices and chambers, kicking in doors to rule out the possibility of her still inside.

It wouldn’t be a bad plan to keep her here since everyone else is evacuating, but my gut tells me that’s off.

And short of turning over every nook and cranny in here, that’s all I have to go on.

Sirens and screams and bellowed orders still hover in the distance, mingling with the leftover pops of the last explosion.

In government buildings like this, there are always evacuation procedures, exits used to guide the officials to safety. Assuming she was taken by someone who knows those routes, they’d use one not designated as secure to take her.

The sanitation exit.

Kane appears at the wide-open west-side door, shaking his head that Mercy was not out there as he hurries toward me with my pistol.

Just as he nears me, a bloodcurdling shriek of pain pierces the empty corridor from somewhere beyond the building on the opposite end, and my heart rattles in my chest.