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Shaking him lightly I am disheartened when his breathing does not change. Nothing changes. I shake him harder.
Ash, alert and ready for anything, scans the surroundings for signs of trouble.
“Isaiah, wake up!” I say in his ear doing my best to give him an Alpha command that he won’t be able to resist.
Nothing.
Bowing my head momentarily I ask for forgiveness as I wind my hand up above my head open palmed and hit Isaiah across the face with a loud smack that reverberates through the alleyway.
Finally, Isaiah groggily opens his eyes. He has confusion, and pain etched on his face. “Chase? Ash?” he mumbles, struggling to sit up. “Dustin… trouble.”
“Where’s Dustin?” I demand with urgency lacing my words. Isaiah points in the direction of the alley’s end. “He was taken, and they knocked me out cold.”
“Who are they?” Ash asks, still maintaining his post as a lookout.
“I am not sure exactly who they are, but they are from one of the gambling establishments here. Dustin’s in trouble, they didn’t even search me for my cash earnings.” He says still shaken up.
Ash frowns and helps Isaiah up, I grab Isaiah’s other arm as he stumbles on his feet.
“We’ve got to get Dustin, whatever they do to him… it’s not going to be pretty.” I state with fear for Dustin.
I sniff the air. Dustin’s scent is mixed with a few other scents. The men who took him smell like stale cigar smoke, and expensive whiskey.
Moving silently under the cover of darkness, we track the scents to the back door of a massive gambling establishment off the main street. Ash and I prowl around for an entry point while Isaiah stabilizes himself.
The only entry point is a reinforced steel door in the building’s back alley. The door won’t be a problem for us to get through, it’s the people beyond the door that might be trouble.
“It’s very likely we are going to need to go in fighting.” I say and the other two narrow their eyes nodding in affirmation.
Kicking in the door, splinters erupt from the frame. Not only did the door open inward but the frame itself was not reinforced, rookie mistake.
In a fraction of a second Ash and Isaiah subdued the two guards that were momentarily blinded by the explosion of wood pieces showering down from the door frame.
Hopefully, no one heard that noise from the room Dustin is being kept in. It’s always best to keep the element of surprise on our side.
Following our noses, we head down a dingy hallway that is nothing like the neon-lit and bright rooms of the casinos we’ve seen on the consumer side. A wood door sits at the end of the hallway and the obnoxious sound of laughter echoes out into the hallway from behind it.
Ash stands to my right and Isaiah to my left, before kicking this door in also, I test the hand by slowly turning it. The door is unlocked.
With a nod to my best friends, I twist the handle and push the door open quickly. Looks of shock cross the faces of the suitedmen in the back. I’ll wipe those smiles off your stupid faces any time, I think to myself satisfied.
The smokey room becomes an aggressive arena of chaos as man after man tries to take the three of us down. Fighting our way toward Dustin the gambling goons get knocked down like bowling pins.
I’m sure it would almost be a comical sight to anyone watching without a stake in the outcome of the fight.
“Dustin,” I yell in a steady voice cutting through the chaos of the commotion.
Dustin’s eyes attempt to flicker open, but his left eye is too swollen. Blood dribbles from his nose and lips down his neck soaking the fabric of his shirt in a macabre scene.
A smile registers on his face when he recognizes me, “Hey guys fancy seeing you here.” He croaks out, bits of blood spraying into the air as he speaks.
“You bastard!” I see the metal glinting of a gun in the dim light and quickly pull Isaiah who is behind me down with me as I duck.
A bullet whizzes by me in near slow-motion and I narrow my eyes charging at the attacker. He stumbles backward in surprise, and I grab the gun out of his hand knocking him unconscious with its handle.
Isaiah and Ash work to free Dustin from his bindings. Scanning the room, I count ten bodies on the floor. A man groans in front of me, slipping as he attempts to get himself up. A sure kick to the side of the head puts him back unconscious.
With a swift and purposeful movement, I fire off a text to Drew, fingers tapping urgently on the phone screen:
