CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Noah

Ink pulled the van into a park down the street from where Loki said the asylum should be. Now, the four of us are slowly approaching the abandoned building. The sky has a somber onyx hue as clouds flood the stars, making it darker than it normally should be for this time of night.

My heart races in my chest, knowing I have one shot at making my way back into the club—my only obstacle is myself and whether I can keep it together when I find this motherfucking asshole.

Letting out a long breath, I lead the way, all of us ducking below the windowline toward the main entry. I stop just before the front door and signal to Ink. He chuckles, darting out around me, and rushes for the front door, using his broad shoulder to slam through it.

The door breaks, Ink not missing a step as he easily hurtles through. He steps onto the now broken door, the woodgrain groaning beneath his feet while Wes flicks a smoke grenade and tosses it up the stairs.

"Keep your wits about you. We don't know how many assholes Atlas has here with him. Remember, we need him alive," I instruct, and we each raise our guns higher, ready to fan out.

Wes darts off to the left of the stairs, Ink to the right. Maverick and I lift our neck gaiters over our mouths and noses to protect us before we dart up the stairs.

The thick smoke wafts through the halls, and Maverick stays close to my six. The sound of something metal dropping in the distance and hitting the floor has me on high alert. Maverick grips my shoulder, letting me know he's there, while the sudden sound of gunfire from downstairs has us darting around. We go to take off when something hard smacks into the back of my head.

I lurch forward, jolting into Maverick, my head hurting like a bitch as I drop to my knees. "What the fuck?"

Maverick grunts before he spins, raising his arm to stop the metal tray from slamming into him too. I spin on the floor and bring up my gun while the guy keeps hitting Maverick.

"Mav, left," I yell.

He slides to the left, so I can fire three rounds into the junkie's chest. He jerks back with each shot, the metal tray dropping to the floor before he collapses onto the tiles with a loud thud, gurgling as he goes.

"Damn, prospect. Great shot." Maverick chuckles, placing his hand out to help me up.

I grip his hand, and he pulls me from the floor, the shooting from downstairs continuing, but I know Wes and Ink are handling shit down there, so we don't have to be concerned. Maverick and I need to tackle what's happening up here.

Maverick tilts his head toward the rest of the hallway, where the smoke is clearing. "You ready to do this?"

"Fuck, yeah," I tell him.

We take off, the hallway covered in mold, the carpet ripped and dirty. This place is fucked, it's no wonder junkies live here. We sweep the hall, checking each room as we pass. But there's nothing—

just rooms filled with empty beds and trash littering the floor.

We step into the hall, and a flash of something to my right catches my attention. We round the corner, coming face to face with a locked door. Furrowing my brow at Maverick, I grumble under my breath. "I swear I saw someone."

"Me too. Whoever it was, they couldn't have gotten far."

As we turn to try to find another way through the door, muffled voices draw my attention. I snap my head back to Maverick as the unmistakable sound of guns being cocked sounds through the air.

My instincts kick in as I leap toward Maverick, diving onto him and narrowly dodging the hail of gunfire that erupts through the door behind us. As Maverick and I fall on our backs, a hailstorm of bullets and wood splinters rain down over the top of us. We raise our guns and return fire. I let out a groan while firing round after round, hoping like hell Atlas is not on the other side of that damn door.

The firing frenzy begins to slow, and somehow, Maverick and I hit the assholes on the other side. Either that, or they have run out of ammunition. Panting hard, still lying on my back, I cease fire. Maverick does the same, and we keep our eyes trained on the demolished door.

My heart is racing frantically. I breathe harshly through my nose and look across at Maverick. "You think we're good?" I ask in a hushed voice.

He clears his throat, slowly shifting to sit up, his gun aimed toward the room. "Anyone still alive in there?" he calls out brashly.

A small groan echoes from behind the door, and Maverick snaps his head back at me. We don't hesitate, jumping up and rushing for the entry. With guns high, we burst inside the room, two guys on the floor. One dead, the other holding onto his chest, blood seeping out of practically every part of his upper torso. His hand comes up as if he's begging us for help, his arm trembling before he gasps a final breath, his hand falling to the tiles beside him with a thump.

My eyes search the room. "No sign of Atlas."

Maverick tilts his head toward the hall. "He's got to be here. Let's keep looking."

Glancing back at the two men who gave their lives for Atlas, I shake my head, then turn, rushing down the hall with Maverick. Wes and Ink are still fighting downstairs from the sounds of gunfire below us.

We make our way for the stairs when suddenly, a deafening explosion rocks the side of the building, sending shockwaves rippling through the already crumbling walls. The stairs shake and shudder. Smoke and debris flood the air. I duck, turning to Maverick, signaling for us to get the hell downstairs now, but just as we start running down them, the ceiling above us collapses from the explosion. I duck and try to cover myself while heavy chunks of drywall and wood fall on top of me, a chunk of ceiling slicing into my cheek. I cough as dust and smoke begin to flood my lungs.

Letting out a groan after a hunk of debris lands on my leg, I move, shifting it off and seeing a giant gash. Blood seeps from the wound, and it hurts like a bitch, but I know my leg isn't broken. Right now, my only priority is getting to Maverick. Standing, I yank on the hunks of debris, pulling it away from where I saw Maverick go down. "Mav! Call out," I yell.

"I'm here."

I hear him beneath the piles of plasterboard. Digging my way through, the sounds of bullets firing off continue around me, anxiety spiraling out of control as a bullet whizzes past my ear. I spin, ducking out of the way, but when I turn, bringing up my gun, I see one of Atlas' junkies and aim at him. I fire off a round at the same time he aims for me. My bullet lands straight in his forehead, and I feel the burn as his bullet smacks into my arm.

"Fuck!" I grit through my teeth, blood pouring down my arm, but I ignore it as I turn back, continuing to pull Maverick from the rubble.

I lift a piece of drywall and spot Maverick beneath it, pinned by a railing from the stairs. "Mav, are you hurt?" I ask as he comes into view.

He shakes his head, sweat teaming on his brow. "I'm fine. Just pinned. Can you get me out?"

Glancing around the disaster zone for something to help, I spot another railing that came down in the fall. Rushing over, I grab it and hurry back. "I'm gonna jimmy it off you. Can you try to push while I lift?"

"Got it," Maverick states.

"Ready? Three, two, and… go!" I tell him and push the railing under the other one to try and lever it up and out of the way.

I give it my all. Maverick's trying to help from his angle, but it's not working.

"Dammit! It's not lifting."

"You try to find Atlas. Come back and get me when you're done—"

"And leave you here… as a sitting duck? No fucking way, Mav. I won't do it."

"What's going on in here? Shit, Noah, you're hurt," Ink calls out, running in, panting hard.

"Don't worry about me. Mav's stuck under the debris. I'm trying to get him out, but it's not budging."

Ink steps up beside me, gripping onto the railing. "We'll do it together."

Ink and I push down, using everything we have to lever the other railing out from above Maverick, and somehow, it starts to move. I begin to laugh, maybe out of exhaustion more than anything, as Ink and I shove harder, and finally, it gives, the railing snapping then dropping to the ground beside us.

"Fuck yeah!" I call out.

Ink reaches down, grabs Maverick by his cut, and hoists him up, followed by a slap on his back. "You good?"

"Yep. All good." Maverick coughs several times, then says, "Where's Wes?"

Ink furrows his brows. "I thought he was with you."

Maverick and I shake our heads, and Maverick groans. "Sadie's gonna kill me for losing her brother. We gotta find him."

The three of us take off, running through the halls of the abandoned asylum, straight for the room where the explosion rang out. I have no fucking clue why there was a damn explosion, but I do know that if Wes was in there at the time, he could be in a whole world of hurt right now. Or worse!

"Wes," I call out.

We run to the room, smoke lingering in the air. The tang of chemical fumes assaults my lungs as I spot the cause of the explosion.

Atlas and his men were cooking drugs in here, probably meth, though I know he deals in an array of them. Meth, heroin, fentanyl, GHB—the list goes on.

I skid to a halt, placing my hand out in front of Ink. His pausing body stops Maverick in his tracks, too. "We can't go in there. The chemicals could be lethal. If Wes is in there, he's already dead."

Maverick exhales, his hand runs through his hair in frustration. "Fuck! There's no way I can go back to the clubhouse without Wes. I can't do that to Sadie. I gotta go in there and look for him."

Maverick goes to push past me, but I grip his arm. "Mav. No. You can't."

He glares at me. "Last time I checked, Noah, you aren't even a prospect. You can't tell me what to do."

"Can't let you do it, Mav. As your friend who knows you have a sister and an Old Lady who needs you back home. I won't let you go in there."

Maverick steps up in my face, but I shove him back, getting him out of the way so I have the room to do what I need to. Taking a deep breath, I run in through the door. Flames lick at the walls, the ceiling bubbling with the intensity of the heat. My eyes sting as I hear Maverick calling out to me, but I ignore him. I have a limited time, so I rush through the debris, searching for Wes. As I pull back the drywall, looking for him beneath the rubble, my fingertips burn on contact. Gritting my teeth, I yank back a piece of drywall and spot Wes and Atlas together, both unconscious.

My first instinct is to leave Atlas here to burn. Every part of me wants him to die a slow, painful death, suffocating from the drugs that made him into the man he is today.

But Alpha specifically said to bring Atlas back alive.

I have no choice.

Using every ounce of strength I have, I grip Atlas' shirt with one hand and Wes by the other, then begin dragging them toward the exit. My eyes sting like hell from the chemicals in the room. All I want to do is take a deep lungful of air, but if I do, I will breathe in chemicals and smoke fumes. So I drag them as fast as humanly possible, using every ounce of strength I possess.

The fire is drawing closer and closer, the intense heat closing in on me, threatening to engulf everything in its path.

I vaguely hear Maverick and Ink cheering me on from outside the room. Sweat pools down my face, dropping from my chin as I drag them to the doorway. Maverick and Ink grab the two guys from me before I rush out the door, inhaling a deep breath. My hands drop to my knees as I bend over, panting and puffing for much-needed oxygen.

"Wes? Wes? Dammit, Wes!" Maverick snaps, moving in and checking him over.

"Is… he… breathing?" I ask through stuttered breaths while Ink checks Atlas.

Maverick nods. "He is, but we need to get Wes to the hospital. You, too, Noah. You're breathing is labored."

Trying to draw in a deep breath, I simply can't. My lungs burn, and my throat is raw. I nod before I glance at my fingertips and see the redness taking hold. "Couldn't hurt… to get… checked out," I reply, followed by a small cough.

"C'mon, let's go. Mav, you drive. I'll call Pres and tell him to meet us at the hospital and that we have Atlas. Not sure what he wants to do with him now, seeing as he needs treatment too," Ink states.

Maverick bends, hoisting Wes into his arms while Ink lifts Atlas, and I stumble behind them toward the van.

I don't know what Alpha is going to say about all this.

But I have a feeling he's not going to be very fucking happy.