33. Seeking the Truth🔪

Wind roared in little Wyatt's ears as he hurried across the yard. He barely reached the mailbox when the front door of the Black Viper's hideout walloped open. With a frantic glance back, Wyatt locked eyes with Jon before the man came charging at him.

Curses rattled off from Jon as he darted across their yard, scooping the child up in his arms before anyone noticed him. To his relief, nobody lurked outside in the dark. A low growl in his throat made Wyatt whimper, hitting at the strong forearms that secured him tight as he lugged the boy back inside.

"Dammit." Jon dropped the kid down on the couch. "Keep your ass still, got it? Or else."

"I wanna go home!" Wyatt wailed.

"Shut your mouth. I need to think." Jon paced their living room, breaths quickening with each step.

They underestimated August. Regret pooled in the pit of Jon's stomach as he realized he should've ignored Butch and just killed the brat. At least he was dead now. Jon found the bodies out in the garage and closed the door down, hiding the evidence until he could get more of their people to help him clean up.

With a dreaded sigh, Jon retrieved his phone and called in for backup from a hideout downtown. He needed someone else to hide the kid for him. Those assholes owed Jon a favor and it was high time he cashed that in.

"I want Daddy!" Wyatt whined, sniffling on the couch.

"He's dead," Jon snapped, rubbing his temple. "And if you don't be quiet, you will too."

That threat didn't earn him the response he desired. Wyatt only sobbed louder, grating his desperate, raw emotional pain into Jon's skull. It gave him a fucking migraine as he pressed his phone close to his ear, struggling to even hear the rings.

"Hey man, I need a favor. Get as many of your guys over here," Jon said. "We've been attacked by August. Veronica's old lackey."

"The fuck happened?"

"Dunno, man. Turned on us. We got Veronica's little bastard here too, been trying to get him out of the house."

"Good God. Hold on, we'll be there soon."

"Thanks, man. I owe ya one now," Jon said.

"You sure fucking do."

Jon ended the call, letting relief settle over him. If only that brat would shut his mouth.

Unable to withstand the kid's petulant cries any longer, Jon wrenched him up by his arm and dragged him across the floor. Wyatt fought against the larger man, pleading with him to let go. Had August not broken their basement door, he would've locked the little shit down there. Instead, he improvised and shoved the boy back in Sierra's bedroom.

Jon grabbed some pink duct tape off her dresser and bound the kid's ankles and wrists together, ensuring he couldn't escape. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he wailed and tried to kick at Jon.

"Kick me again," Jon raised Wyatt's little leg. "And I'll break it. You won't be running for a long time, you hear?"

How the hell did things go wrong so fast? Jon couldn't understand it. Why did they care so much about that little brat? He was nothing but a little bastard of Veronica's. Nobody special.

To make matters worse, the goddamn news had picked up on Wyatt's abduction. Kids disappeared everyday. Why the fuck did they care so much about that one?

After locking Wyatt back in the bedroom, Jon stumbled across the floor into the kitchen. He grabbed himself a Bud Lite and chugged it down until his throat burned. Headlights in the kitchen window forced his guard up, but when he checked his phone, he let himself relax. His backup had arrived.

Jon made his way around back, where he propped open the door for the five men. "You don't know how much I appreciate this."

"Y'all are the ones who took that kid?" he asked.

"Yeah, shit hit the fan faster than we thought. We got a guy out here to buy him, but then August fucked it up and turned on us. Guess he got too close with Casey. Should've killed him when I had the chance."

As the three men made their preparations for the night, glass shattered outside. Jon furrowed his brow as he gazed up, exchanging perplexed looks with the other men. Before he had the chance to say something, another loud ruckus came from outside.

"What the hell's going on now?" Jon grouched. "One of y'all go check it out."

Jon led the men down the hallway and toward Wyatt's bedroom, where he'd left the boy bound on the bed. Wyatt only softly whimpered. Just as Jon went over to grab the kid for them, gunshots rent the air.

"Son of a bitch," Jon muttered. "Who the fuck now?"

"I dunno, man. This ain't looking good." One of the lackeys gazed toward the front door.. "We gotta get rid of the kid. Hurry up and get him out to our truck."

"Yeah, fine. We'll take him out the garage," Jon said before lifting Wyatt up over his shoulder. "Hurry up. I have a bad feeling about this. It might be those fucking cops."

"Fuck, let's get the hell out of here then."

The two of them rushed to the garage, bypassing the kitchen and broken basement door. In the jostling movements, Wyatt dropped his stuffed tiger on the floor, but Jon paid no attention to it. His only concern was getting the hell out of there before the cops busted their doors down.

Just as Jon reached the door, he froze. Someone shifted the garage door up. It made an awful screech that he recognized.

"We'll escape out the back instead," Jon whispered, gesturing for the other man to follow him. "My house is just around the block. We can lay low there until they're gone."

His pal nodded. "Yeah, come on."

Detouring their plan, Wyatt took Jon by surprise when he screamed out for help. Jon tried to suppress the boy's wails by clamping a hand over his mouth, but the little shit bit him. Jon almost dropped him as he cursed at the sting in his palm.

The two men escaped out the back as Jon scoured the area, ensuring none of those cops cruised by. Jon took the lead, careful in maneuvering through their neighbor's backyard. With their blinds closed and it being nighttime, he suspected most people still snoozed in their beds. Nobody would witness them trespass.

"What's the plan here?" his pal asked.

"I dunno yet," Jon hissed. "Our plan went out the fucking door."

Soon enough, they reached Jon's house and he unlocked the door before putting Wyatt on the floor. He locked the door behind him, then closed the curtains.

"Throw that little asshole in the basement for me," Jon said. "I need to clean up. If those cops come by, we tell them we've been here watching TV all night. Got it?"

He nodded. "Yeah, sure. But do you really wanna throw him in your basement? He's just a kid."

"That fucker's been a pain in my ass since we took him," Jon grouched. "Wish I'd just left him there to die."

Wyatt fought against the man who tried to pick him up, just like August had told him. No matter how hard he hit or bit the man's forearms, he didn't release him. While the man showed no mercy toward Wyatt, he at least gently placed him down on the basement's cold, hard ground and flipped a light switch on.

Wyatt whimpered on the ground, begging the man to let him go. Just when he thought he'd been rescued by August, they snatched him away again. Nobody would ever find him in Jon's home.

"I'm sorry, kid. You never should've been brought into this shit."