Page 9 of Unmasking Mayhem (Behind the Mask Duet #2)
four
compromised
Cade (“Red”)
Locked if she’s going to trust me, I need her to see the truth behind my eyes.
"I can't trust you," she whispers, and it feels like a slap in the face.
“We fucking came for you. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you or Havoc,” I assure her, and for a heartbeat, I see a flicker of recognition, even amidst her terror.
“We need to get Havoc to the club,” Crow interrupts, scanning the perimeter for more threats. “They'll be able to take care of him there so we don't have to deal with the fucking cops.”
I glance back at Havoc, whose face is pale and drawn. “I'll help you get him to the car,” I say, anxiety flooding my voice.
"I'll stay here with Whitney and call the cops before the neighbors do," Carter insists, placing a hand on my shoulder. "But Havoc isn't going to make it unless you leave now.”
A wave of panic washes over me, but there’s no time for hesitation. He’s right; we can’t stay here. I turn my focus back to Whitney, extending my hand.
“Just stay close to Carter and listen to whatever he tells you, alright?”
With a nod, she inches closer to Carter, and I block her way, doing my best to shield her from the horrors around us. I glance back to see Crow lifting Havoc over his shoulder, and I know it's time to go.
The night air outside bites into our skin as we spill into the lot where my car is parked, struggling to rush with Havoc as he begins to go limp.
Red and blue lights flash in the distance, and sirens wail loudly—a promise of safety, but also a reminder of the world we aren’t ready to face.
As we pile into the car, I spot the silhouettes of the officers closing in, and an unusual dread settles over me.
Memories of a life I used to love living hit me like a ton of bricks, but I realize I already gave up the badge for the wrong side of the law.
But I did it for her— Whitney . The world feels chaotic—a spinning carousel—but inside my car, there’s a brief silence that shields us from the storm.
As we drive away, I glance back at Crow.
His eyes search mine, filled with a mix of hatred and fear.
“What happens now?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly.
I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to promise the impossible. “Now we figure it out,” I say softly. “But first, we survive this—Havoc survives this."
Crow's eyes dart to the back window, scanning for any signs of a pursuit. “We need to get off the main road,” he says urgently, hands pressing hard on the wound in Havoc’s abdomen, white-knuckled. “We don't know if there are any more of them out there."
I nod, my mind racing with possible routes, but Crow decides to make the choice for me.
“Head towards the club. I texted King, so they're waiting for us, but take the back way down by the docks.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, my heart races at the thought of the docks; they’re familiar territory, a place where I spent countless nights tracking down leads and doing undercover work.
But this time, I know the stakes aren’t at all professional—they're personal and so fucking illegal.
I know I've gone way too far across the line between right and wrong, but I'm not too sure if I want to cross back.
I accelerate, tires screeching as I take a sharp turn to the right.
The night is cloaked in shadows, but the orange glow of streetlights illuminates our path intermittently.
I reach back to check on Havoc, whose complexion is growing alarmingly gray with each dangerously swallowed breath.
“Stay with us, Havoc,” I whisper, my voice trembling slightly, thinking back on how much his ass got under my skin when I first started going to Club Mayhem.
The air suddenly feels suffocating, heavy with anxiety and desperation. Crow presses an extra shirt against Havoc’s leg, but even that seems to do little to stop the flow of blood that's carving a dark trail down the tan leather seat.
“Fuck! We had this—how did it all go to shit so fast?” Crow mutters, his face covered with his mask, his eyes a mix of frustration and fear.
“I was supposed to be there,” I say, recalling Whitney's supposed safety we promised King and D.
I can’t shake the feeling that someone tipped them off, that our precious intel was an illusion.
Just a fucking setup to trap not us, but Whitney, and deep down we all know who it is.
As the realization sinks in, the weight of betrayal hangs heavy in the air.
I shake my head violently, trying to banish the thought, but it clings to me like the strong scent of gunpowder.
“Focus on the fucking road,” Crow snaps, his voice sharp with urgency.
I can barely look at him, knowing our lives are intertwined in this fucking twisted game. I fight for clarity as the streets blur by, twisting and turning beneath the tires, and adrenaline courses through my veins like fucking wildfire.
“We’ll get to the fucking club,” I manage, even as doubt gnaws at the edges of my mind. “And when we do, we’ll have the men there patch Havoc up. He’ll be okay.”
“Isn’t that what we said back there?” Crow's voice drips with incredulity. "You can't promise that anymore. Too much fucking uncertainty exists. We both fucking know it."
Silence wraps around us, a choking blanket, broken only by Havoc’s labored breathing.
The drive is a desperate crawl through the dark underbelly of the city.
Every moment feels like an eternity, and the distant flickering of police lights in the rearview mirrors adds a layer of dread that tightens my chest.
“Carter and Whitney,” I mumble, trying to anchor myself to something solid. “They’re waiting for us. If we can get back to them—”
“I still don't fucking trust you, Red; you need to realize that,” Crow interjects, his voice rising with disdain.
His anger and fear intertwine in a crucible of emotions bubbling the fuck over.
I grit my teeth against Crow's revelation, but deep down, I know he’s right.
The silence now feels like icy water, closing in, threatening to drown us in uncertainty.
I glance at Havoc again—this isn't just a mission anymore.
It's survival, and every decision we fucking make could mean life or death.
“I’ll take the next left, and we'll be there,” I announce, resolve brewing inside me. “We're close to the club, and hopefully it’ll give us a chance to shake any tails.”
"There's no fucking way we're letting them catch up," Crow responds, the familiar grit in his voice cutting through the tension. I take a deep breath and nod, focusing entirely on the road as I make the sharp turn.
“Stay with me, Havoc,” I whisper again, more for myself. “Just a little longer.”
With the headlights slicing through the night, I concentrate on the route—each bump and jolt in the road stabs at our urgency. My phone buzzes violently on the dashboard—the screen illuminating with a text. I steal a glance—it's from King.
At the club. We’ve barricaded the entrance to secure it. You have to hurry.
“Hang in there, Havoc,” Crow murmurs again, pressing harder on the bloody blanket as my heart races.
The club is only a couple of blocks away now, and I can feel hope stirring somewhere deep within my chest amid the chaos.
But it’s quickly snuffed out when I spot two cars approaching from opposite directions.
Fear flashes across Crow's face as he recognizes them, and I can see him preparing for the worst.
“Their headlights!” he shouts, his voice rising. “Get ready to ev—”
The sound of tires screeching blares through the night, drowning out anything else he can say as I slam on the brakes and jerk the steering wheel to the left.
The right side of the car dips as I aim to avoid a head-on collision, but one of the vehicles veers toward us, its driver hell-bent on boxing us in.
“Shit!” Crow yells, keeping a tight grip on Havoc as panic spills around the car like gasoline on a flame.
I gun the engine and floor it in the opposite direction, skidding through an alley that promises temporary refuge. My mind races; it’s a gamble whether this path will take us closer to safety or drive us deeper into the ambush.
“Keep an eye back there!” I bark out, forcing the car to a screeching stop at the alley's mouth.
We can hear footsteps echoing along the pavement, and I realize the weight of our decision—there's no going back. Crow whips around, carefully gauging the distance of our followers.
“What the fuck are we going to do now? We can’t stay here!” The terror on his face mirrors what I feel inside. We need a plan, fast.
“Hold on, I have an idea,” I say, the resolve forcing its way through my fingertips as I pull out my pistol from under my seat.
Rolling the window down, I stick my arm out and begin firing, treating the scene in front of me as if it were the fucking target practice they put us through during training, and this time, I manage to hit all the bad guys, not giving my decision a second thought.
Once it's quiet around us, there's nothing but smoke from the array of gunfire and car alarms blaring in the distance from the impact of the ambush.
I put the car in drive and speed away, leaving the dead guys face down on the wet concrete, feeling like I've definitely crossed a line there's no coming back from.
When we finally pull up to the back entrance of the club, King, D, and a few other members of Masked Mayhem are waiting to help bring Havoc inside. I ignore the blood staining my backseat and the fact that Crow is covered in it and pull out a cigarette, needing the taste of nicotine desperately.
"Are you coming?" Crow asks, following the others inside.
"Nah, I'll keep watch out here," I tell him, kicking broken glass and pebbles with the tip of my boot.
He nods and disappears inside, the fate of his best friend weighing heavily on my shoulders.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?