20. Whizz/ Dylan

WHIZZ

I didn”t carethat I was breaking the speed limit. I had to get to Marc as fast as possible.

When it came to his missing brother, Tommy, Marc could be reckless, despite his typically level-headed nature.

Greenfield was ahead, a place I never thought I”d return to, and it seemed that Hicks” men were once again attempting an omega abduction.

Dylan had been right; this situation smelled like a trap, but who was the intended victim? Was it me, Marc, or did Hicks know our identities?

I wasn”t going into this alone. I”d already sent Piston and Nitro, sharing Marc”s location with them in case things went south.

My GPS indicated that I was nearing the coordinates Marc had given me.

For a brief moment, I feared Marc had grown impatient and left, but then I saw him waiting by his car on the side of the road.

Relief washed over me as I pulled up next to him.

”What took you so long, Whizz?” Marc”s voice carried a mix of impatience and anxiety as I pulled up.

I shot him a quick look. ”I came as fast as I could, Marc. And I”ve got two of my MC brothers on the way.”

I knew it wasn”t the time to linger on my arrival. I asked him for the details, puzzled as to why we were in the middle of nowhere.

My gaze swept the vast cornfields on both sides of the road, and it struck me as an unusual place for something to go down.

”Alright, Marc, what”s going on? Why are we here?” I asked.

Marc”s eyes narrowed, and he gestured to the east. I squinted in that direction, trying to decipher what he was pointing at.

After a moment, I spotted it — an old farmhouse in the distance.

”Stan Chaney,” Marc said, finally providing the name of the abducted omega.

I nodded, and then inquired about the plan, emphasizing that Marc had invited me into this situation.

Marc paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath before explaining the urgency of the situation.

”We don”t have time for discretion or scouting. I overheard Hicks” wolves talking about moving the ”product” tonight,” Marc said.

”Then we go in hard and fast, catch them by surprise. How many are we dealing with?” I asked.

I needed the critical information to form an effective plan.

Marc hesitated for a moment before replying, ”Probably two. They tend to operate in pairs, as far as I”ve seen.”

I contemplated the situation. It wasn”t a lot to go on, but it matched what my research had suggested about Hicks” operations.

However, Marc”s demeanor suddenly shifted, and his eyes turned a shade of yellow, a sign his animal half was peeking out.

“Damn it, Whizz. I knew I screwed up by following them and alerting them to my presence,” he said.

”You haven”t screwed up yet, Marc. We can still save Stan. Let”s move,” I said.

We continued through the cornfield on foot, our steps careful and quiet.

I retrieved two concealed guns from the hidden compartment of my motorcycle and handed one to Marc.

As we neared the farm house, the voices of Hicks” men grew louder. They weren”t making an effort to be discreet.

I nodded to Marc, and we decided to split up, catching the werewolves by surprise.

I reached them first, silently weaving through the cornstalks, but before I could engage, Marc”s gunshot pierced the air.

A sinking feeling washed over me as the loud report alerted them to our presence.

Both of the werewolves swiftly reached for their nearby guns, clearly anticipating company.

Their leader ordered, ”Find out who fired at us. I’m going to guard the merchandise.”

This was still salvageable. As one of the wolves moved to locate Marc, I would have a chance to handle the other.

The leader made a mistake of thinking they were only dealing with one intruder. After all, they’d only seen Marc. This was my chance.

The moment the remaining werewolf turned his back, I took aim and fired.

I aimed and pulled the trigger, but I missed the crucial first shot. The werewolf must have heard the gunshot echo through the cornfield.

He sneered. “It wouldn”t be that easy,” he said.

I didn”t let his words deter me. As he began to level his own gun at me, I fired a second time.

I managed to get off a shot as he fired back, but it was too close for comfort. I ducked, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

He fired at me blindly until I heard an empty click. The werewolf let out a snarl of frustration and I could hear ripping and popping noises.

The werewolf was shifting. A bad move. I took that opportunity and shot him in the head. He died, with a shocked expression on his face.

It was too early to celebrate. Hearing a yell, followed by a gunshot in the distance, I remembered Marc. I ran towards the source of the sound.

I arrived in a clearing just in time to see Marc struggling against his opponent. I struggled to line up a clear shot.

The stakes were high, but I couldn”t shoot my friend.

It was as if Marc sensed my internal conflict. In a split-second decision, he kicked the werewolf away, creating the space I needed.

The werewolf was now exposed, and I didn”t hesitate. I took a deep breath and fired. The bullet hit the werewolf in the chest, and he fell, incapacitated.

I shot him three more times, to ensure he was dead. We had one final task to do.

As we walked, our breaths still heavy, Marc asked me, ”Is this what it”s always like for you?”

I nodded.”Let”s go save Stan,” I said.

I helped Marc to his feet, and together, we approached the farm house, not knowing what to expect.

A sick feeling of dread settled in my gut, making me half-expect to find an empty room.

But instead, we found Stan, bound and gagged in the living room, his eyes wide with fear.

My relief was palpable as I rushed to his side, quickly freeing him from his restraints.

As I removed the last piece of tape from his mouth, I noticed a piece of paper stuck to him.

I plucked it off and read the message, and a cold shiver ran down my spine. Fear, the kind I”d never known, gripped me.

Marc asked what the message said, and I whispered the words that chilled me to my core: ”They have Dylan.”

DYLAN

I woke up,disoriented and groggy, my senses immediately telling me I was in a dark, windowless room.

Panic welled up within me as my heart raced, and my breathing grew shallow.

My mind raced, but I couldn”t escape the sensation of déjà vu.

I remembered waking up in a similar situation not too long ago, a life of fear, captivity, and despair.

For a brief, terrifying moment, I almost believed that the life I”d built in Moon Burrow, with Whizz and our newfound happiness, had all been a figment of my imagination.

That Whizz had never been there to rescue me, and that my newfound freedom had been nothing but a dream.

Then a voice, soft and familiar, cut through the darkness.

”Take deep breaths, Dylan,” he said.

As I took those deep breaths, I reminded myself that Whizz was real. He was out there, somewhere, trying to find me.

I touched the spot on my neck, where Whizz”s bite marked me as his mate, and felt the faint, but still unmistakable, bond that connected us.

Then I closed my hand around the necklace that hung around my neck, the one that had once belonged to Jake.

”That belonged to Jake,” the voice continued, curiosity laced with bitterness. ”How did it come to you?”

I shifted my gaze, trying to find the source of the voice. My heart sank as I realized it was Kyle in the cell with me.

No Tommy. For a moment, anger swelled within me, making it difficult to form words.

I couldn”t believe Tommy had betrayed us, and now I was stuck here with him.

My glare pierced through the dimness, and I could see the resignation in Tommy’s eyes.

He seemed battered and bruised, even more than I was. I had to remind myself to calm down.

This wasn”t entirely Tommy”s fault. He”d never wanted to be part of this plan in the first place.

I eventually decided to answer Tommy”s question. ”I found it in my old cell, next to a pile of bones.

”I see,” Tommy whispered. “Jake and I shared the same cell. Jake had been strong. He refused to cooperate with Hicks, while I had caved in to the pressure.”

Tommy shivered, perhaps recalling the horrors he”d been subjected to.

Then he explained that Hicks had eventually allowed him out of his cell and had tasked him with errands for his group.

“Hicks called me after you and the others were freed,” Tommy admitted. ”He promised to let me go if I brought you in, but I knew it was a lie. Hicks was never going to release me.”

As he spoke, a memory clicked into place. Tommy was Marc”s missing brother, the name I”d heard earlier but couldn”t quite place.

The puzzle pieces started to come together.

”You”re Marc”s missing brother, aren”t you?” I finally said.

Tommy sat beside me, his eyes widening with astonishment, he grasped my hands and asked urgently where I”d heard that name.

I took a deep breath and shared with him the incredible dedication that both Whizz and Marc had shown over the years.

They had never stopped searching for their missing brothers, their love and determination pushing them forward.

”He”s alive,” Tommy whispered in disbelief, his voice trembling with emotion. ”Hicks told me that Marc forgot about me, but he”s been looking for me all this time?”

I nodded firmly, my heart warmed by the thought of the reunion that awaited Tommy and his brother.

I genuinely believed that Whizz and Marc would find us and rescue us.

”He never gave up, Tommy. He recognized you, even after all these years,” I said.

Tommy”s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he squeezed my hands in gratitude.

I hated what I was about to do next, but given the temporary alliance I”d formed with Tommy, I knew I had to seize the opportunity.

With a heavy sigh, I asked Tommy to share everything he knew about Hicks” operation.

He was hesitant at first, but I assured him that with Marc and Whizz on our side, we had a fighting chance.

Tommy finally started opening up, and our conversation gained momentum.

However, our exchange was abruptly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

Tommy instinctively pressed a finger to his lips, and I nodded in understanding.

The cell door creaked open, revealing a werewolf I didn”t recognize. It seemed that Hicks had hired new people.

The stranger pointed at me and coldly ordered, ”You, with me. Hicks wants to have a word with you.”

Tommy quickly interjected, demanding to know what would happen to him.

The werewolf replied, ”He hasn”t forgiven you yet.”

As the werewolf focused his attention back on me, he sternly warned, ”No funny business, or I”ll shoot you.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing, and nodded in reluctant agreement. For now, it was better to cooperate and bide my time.