Chapter 213

Chapter 213
~Torin~

The storm got worse the closer we pushed toward the industrial district. Rain hammered the streets hard enough visibility kept dropping in waves while headlights smeared across wet pavement.

The bike growled beneath me as we tore through another intersection, The team spread behind us in staggered formation while thunder rolled low enough to shake through the buildings around us. Rook stayed just off my right side, his voice cutting through the comm every few minutes as more information came in.

“Storage unit’s registered under the alias Michael Grayson,” he muttered. “Fake social. Clean paper trail.”

“Meaning FBI clean,” Burdock added through static.

Yeah, figures. Brian covered himself carefully because men like him always believed they were the smartest person in the room. Organized, methodical, and obsessed.

That last part mattered most, because obsession changed once pressure hit it. It stopped pretending to be reasonable. It stopped dressing itself up as concern or protection. Eventually it cracked open and showed itself. And Brian was getting pressured from every side now.

Good, let him panic. Maybe he’d finally make a mistake.

The industrial district appeared slowly through the rain afterward, giant warehouse buildings rising dark against the night while chain-link fences and shipping lots stretched endlessly around us. Most of the area sat dead after midnight, which made every light stand out harder. Too many places to hide somebody.

My stomach tightened viciously. “Marlowe,” I muttered under my breath.

For one brutal second, another image hit me fast enough to nearly knock concentration loose entirely. Her curled against me in bed, half asleep while mumbling something irritated because I stole the blanket again.

I swallowed hard against the pressure building inside my chest. She’d trusted me to protect her, and I’d failed.

The guilt sat there constantly now, grinding deeper every second she stayed out of my reach. Because none of this happened in a vacuum. Brian didn’t suddenly become obsessed overnight. The signs were probably there the whole damn time, and I missed every single one of them because I stayed focused on club wars, Carlos, survival.

Meanwhile some FBI bastard studied the woman I loved right under my nose.

A sharp crackle hit the comm suddenly. “Torin,” Rook muttered sharply. “Light.”

I saw it immediately afterward. Third warehouse down from the corner lot. Small glow bleeding faintly through a side window near the roofline. Weak. Barely visible through the rain, but there.

Every muscle in my body locked instantly. “That’s it,” I growled.

“Easy,” Burdock warned through the comm. “Could be a watch post.”

No, I felt it. Maybe instinct, maybe desperation. It didn’t matter which, Marlowe was in there, and I knew it.

I killed the bike two buildings over before the engine noise could carry closer, boots splashing hard against soaked pavement while the rest of the team spread out quickly through the storm. Weapons came free silently. Movements precise and focused.

Rook stepped up beside me while rain streamed down both of us. “Back entrance?” he questioned quietly.

I shook my head once while staring at the warehouse. “He’ll expect tactical.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“I’m done thinking like him,” I growled.

Rook studied me for one long second afterward before muttering, “That’s the answer I was afraid of.”

I didn’t care. Nothing inside me felt stable anymore. Not after hearing Marlowe scream in my head for the last several hours while imagining every possible thing Brian might be doing to her.

The warehouse sat mostly dark except for the faint upper light and one security lamp near the loading dock entrance. No visible movement. No guards. It was all too clean.

Brian was inside alone. That realization settled hard because it meant this wasn’t a hostage operation. Wasn’t organized crime. Wasn’t leverage. This was personal fantasy unraveling in real time. Dangerous as hell.

Burdock moved up quietly from the left side, shotgun resting low in his grip. “We breach smart,” he muttered. “No cowboy shit.”

I looked at him slowly, then toward the warehouse again, then back. “She’s in there with him.”

Burdock’s jaw tightened because there wasn’t really an answer to that. Not one I’d listen to anyway.

Rook grabbed my arm before I could move. “Torin.” I yanked free instantly. 

“If he hears us coming,” Rook continued carefully, “he could panic.”

“He already panicked,” I snapped while stepping backward toward the loading dock. “That’s why he took her.”

Thunder cracked violently overhead, then everything went still for half a second, and through the rain…I heard it.

Faint. Metal crashing somewhere inside the warehouse.

Every part of me went cold instantly. “Marlowe,” I breathed.

Then I moved. Fast. Violent. Done waiting.

Rook cursed behind me while boots pounded across pavement, The team shifting instantly into motion as I hit the loading dock door hard enough the metal rattled violently beneath the impact.

I grabbed the handle with both hands and ripped backward while Burdock slammed the shotgun stock against the latch simultaneously. Metal screamed, the lock snapped, then the door burst inward, and somewhere deeper inside the warehouse, a woman screamed.