5. Whizz/ Dylan

WHIZZ

Crimson View laybefore us as we parked our motorcycles at a nondescript motel on the outskirts of town.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape.

The small town felt quiet and eerie. It almost felt like a ghost town.

Piston, Nitro, and I checked in, stashed our gear in the rooms, and headed out on foot to stay under the radar.

We had a mission, and it was crucial that we didn”t attract any unwanted attention.

As night fell, we made our way through the woods, following a narrow path toward the outskirts of town.

Darkness crept in, and the air was thick with tension. We were all keenly aware of the gravity of our mission.

We finally arrived at Gregory Hicks’ estate, the old house looming in the distance.

The property was surrounded by a rusty iron gate, but there were no guards posted at the entrance.

It seemed as if the place had been intentionally left abandoned, perhaps to deter unwanted visitors.

Our group split up with silent nods. Piston and Nitro took the direct approach, heading toward the front door.

I, on the other hand, chose a more covert route, slipping around to the back of the house, which led to the kitchen.

As I reached the back door, I heard hushed voices inside. I steeled myself and pushed the door open just enough to slip inside unnoticed.

Inside, I stumbled upon a shocking scene. Two burly werewolves were seated at a table, playing cards.

Their laughter filled the room, a stark contrast to the omega curled up on the floor, crying softly.

Anger surged within me at the sight of his distress. Without bothering to use stealth, I stepped forward.

”Hey,” I growled out, my voice cutting through the air.

The werewolves turned to look at me, their faces shifting from amusement to surprise.

Before they could react, I whipped out my knife as I lunged towards the nearest werewolf.

The werewolf groaned in pain, clutching his wounded shoulder, I didn”t waste a second.

With a swift motion, I pulled out my gun and aimed it at the other werewolf who was lunging at me in the midst of shifting forms.

A single shot rang out in the room, and the werewolf howled in agony as the bullet found its mark.

He collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain.

But there was no time to revel in my small victory. I could hear the sounds of a fierce struggle coming from another part of the house.

Piston and Nitro were fighting off more of these werewolves, and I knew I couldn”t let them down.

Realizing I was at a disadvantage in my human form, I made a snap decision. I shifted into my grizzly form, my muscles bulging and fur bristling.

The second werewolf recovered quickly despite being shot. He came at me with a snarl, his claws bared.

We clashed, going for each other”s throats in a savage battle, a dance of primal fury.

The room seemed to shrink around us as we grappled, each of us desperate for victory.

Despite his tenacity, I found an opening. With a powerful swipe of my paw, I knocked him off balance.

He stumbled back, and I seized the opportunity, clamping my jaws around his throat.

His struggles grew weaker until they finally ceased. I released the lifeless body and looked for the other wolf.

The first werewolf, still nursing his wounded shoulder, must have realized the tide had turned against him, because he was halfway out the door leading outside.

With a growl of frustration, he turned and bolted for the nearest exit, clearly choosing flight over fight.

As the fleeing werewolf disappeared into the night, I felt a surge of adrenaline, ready to give chase.

But then, a small, trembling hand clutched at my pant leg, pulling me from my momentary distraction.

I looked down to find the crying omega, forgotten in the midst of the chaos.

”Are... are you here to help us?” the omega stammered, his eyes wide with hope.

I shifted back to human and quickly donned by ruined clothes.

“Us?” I asked. “There are others, aren’t there?”

The omega nodded and peered at me closely, as if trying to discern something.

It was then that I recognized the face—it was Mitch, Manuel’s missing fiancee. The relief that washed over me was palpable.

”Mitch?” I ventured, my voice low.

For a moment, there was silence, as if he was gauging my intentions.

Then, as if a dam had broken, he spoke. “Yes, I”m Mitch. How do you know my name?”

“From Manuel, he’s been so worried about you,” I answered. “We”re here to rescue you and the others.”

Mitch”s eyes filled with gratitude, and he pointed toward a hidden door in the kitchen.

”There”s a basement down there. It’s not good. But that”s where they”re keeping the others,” Mitch said.

Piston and Nitro arrived just in time, and I quickly assigned tasks.

”Nitro, stay with Mitch. Make sure he”s safe,” I instructed.

Nitro gave me a hurt nod. He took off his jacket and placed it over Mitch’s thin shoulders.

Piston and I made our way to the basement door, a heavy dread settling in my chest.

As we descended the rickety stairs into the dank and dark underground, I couldn”t help but hope that this would be the place where I”d finally find Dylan… and my brother.

DYLAN

Exhaustion gripped me,and my empty stomach grumbled painfully.

I”d refused to touch the food they”d given me, convinced it was drugged. I felt weak and famished, but caution won over hunger.

Then, a gunshot from above, followed by a commotion of growls and screams, jolted me upright.

I held the bear claw necklace I”d found close to my chest, uncertainty tugging at my heart.

Were the werewolves fighting each other, or was this just another cruel twist of fate?

Voices in the corridor outside my cell brought renewed hope.

”Did you find Gregory Hicks?” one voice inquired.

Gregory. I thought of the blond-haired alpha and shivered.

Lately, I’d been his favorite and I kept wishing he would get bored of me soon. Death was a better alternative than being Gregory’s toy.

”No,” came the reply. “I questioned one of the werewolves thoroughly. He told me Gregory took half his crew. They were hunting down another omega.”

My heart raced, but I dared not let my hopes soar too high.

Rescue felt like a distant dream in this nightmare but I knew these were definitely not Gregory’s men.

Then, the cell door slowly creaked open, revealing two bikers. I swallowed.

My animal half warned me they were both grizzly shifters. Alphas.

”We”re not here to harm you. We”ve come to free you and the others. It”s safe now,” said the first biker.

I eyed them warily but saw sincerity in their faces. Still, I couldn”t afford to be careless.

The one with dark hair and intense eyes approached me and I backed away. He knelt in front of me and gripped my hand, the one holding the necklace.

A growl spilled from his lips and every muscle in my body locked in place.

“Where did you get this?” he demanded.

He took my shoulders and shook me. Dizziness swamped me.

The dark-haired biker”s questions made me apprehensive, but then his friend chimed in, ”Whizz, you”re scaring him.”

The man, apparently called Whizz, seemed to soften. He released me. Whizz sank down to his knees in front of me.

His eyes, once filled with anger, now held an unmistakable grief and hidden pain.

Without thinking, I reached out and touched his cheek. I expected him to recoil, but to my surprise, he only placed his hand over mine, his grip gentle.

Whizz spoke, his voice heavy with the weight of memories. ”I once gave my brother a necklace just like that for his birthday... the day he disappeared.”

I could hear the sorrow in his voice, and for some reason, I found myself thinking that he wasn”t as threatening as I”d first assumed.

I also couldn”t help but feel a touch of envy.

Whizz seemed like he’d been through hell to find this place, all for someone he cared about deeply.

I wished I had someone like that in my life, someone who would go to such lengths for me. But my selfish thoughts didn”t sit right with me.

Surrounded by these people who had risked so much to save us, I felt guilty for dwelling on my own loneliness.

In a moment of vulnerability, I reached out and hugged him, my voice barely a whisper as I told him about the pile of bones in the cell, and how I”d found the necklace.

”I”m sorry I took it,” I admitted. ”But it was my only source of comfort during all this.”

In that strange moment, it felt like a bond had formed between us, forged in the darkness and shared pain of our experiences.

”I didn”t mean to hurt you,” Whizz murmured.

”You didn”t,” I said softly.

After breaking away from the hug, I reached for his hand and carefully placed the necklace into his palm, closing his fingers around it.

Whizz gently pressed the necklace back into my hand. ”It belongs to you now,” he said.

A hint of smile appeared on his lips and for a moment, I was struck by how handsome he was, even in the dim glow of my cell.

“I can’t take away something that’s become important to you,” he said.

Before our moment could linger, Piston interrupted us.

”Hey, Whizz, there are more cells to open,” he reminded, his tone practical.

“Four of the six cells here are occupied….” I said. I then took a deep breath. “The dungeon used to be full.”

Whizz furrowed his brow.

”What do you mean? What happened to the other prisoners?” he asked.

”They”ve been sold,” I replied with a heavy heart.

Then, the memory of Mitch, an unlikely friend I made during this ordeal, resurfaced.

”What about Mitch?” I asked, suddenly worried.

Realising they probably didn’t know what I was talking about, I described what Mitch looked like.

Piston assured me, ”Mitch is safe upstairs.”

Relief washed over me after hearing those words. I had been worried out of my mind when one of Gregory’s men grabbed Mitch from his cell a few hours ago.

It seemed that Piston had sensed something brewing between Whizz and me.

He offered to free the other prisoners, leaving me to watch as Whizz examined the bones still scattered in the cell.

I wondered what he was thinking, and if those bones really belonged to his missing brother.

Then he turned to me and offered his hand. Dizziness washed over me, and I swayed, but Whizz effortlessly caught me before I could collapse.

As Whizz carried me in his arms, I couldn”t help but feel a sense of closeness and safety that I hadn”t felt in a long time.

I snuggled against him, my head resting on his chest, and the warmth of his body seemed to envelop me.

In the dimly lit kitchen, Mitch”s presence was a reassuring sight.

We sat down together on the floor, our shoulders brushing against each other as we watched the bikers bring more of our fellow captives to safety.

I turned to Mitch. ”Are you hurt?” I asked him.

He shook his head, his eyes locked onto mine. ”I”ll be fine, Dylan.”

Then, Mitch shared with me that the bikers knew Manuel, his fiancée, and that Manuel had played a role in orchestrating this rescue.

As we sat there, surrounded by the chaos of our rescue, I couldn”t help but think about Whizz.

There was something about the way he had carried me out of that basement, the way he had looked at me with concern, that made my heart flutter.

It was as if, in the midst of this harrowing ordeal, a spark had ignited between us.

I didn”t know where it would lead, but one thing was certain: I was no longer alone, and I had Whizz and his friends to thank for that.