✔Cupcakes to Kill For

30. Trapped in Hell🧁

August barely heard the roaring wind over his pounding heart. Icy wind stung his eyes as he crossed the straggly lawn of the Black Viper's hideout. Text messages from Sierra popped up while he fed Wolf Wolf back at him and his grandmother's house, with instructions for a new drug dealing.

Despite how August didn't trust them, he knew it would only raise suspicions if he didn't answer. Plus, he needed the money from their drug run. August hoped that they hadn't found Casey and his family yet. It was only a matter of time, but maybe, they'd be lucky enough to get away from them.

August's own escape plan failed miserably, but he'd do everything he could to keep Casey and his family safe.

Paranoia held August in its deadly grasp as his mind conjured the worst scenarios. The drive to their gang's hideout had him on edge. All he could think about was if Casey and his family were safe. Part of him wished he'd gone with them, but August knew damn well they would've been found immediately had he stayed with them.

It only just occurred to him that they might force him to hurt Casey or torment him to find out the Lockhart family's location. Those possibilities made him reconsider everything. Maybe he should pretend he got caught up with something else.

When he parked across the street of their hideout, August hesitated. He killed the ignition, yet his legs refused to move. Something deep within his soul screamed at him to drive away. August knew if they suspected he'd turned on them, they'd kill his grandmother and their dogs.

They'd probably already spotted his vehicle. Turning back around would be too suspicious. He had no other choice. It was like he could hide from them. They always knew how to find him, and Veronica wasn't around to save his ass anymore.

August inhaled a sharp breath of air, then he took the plunge and headed straight for their entryway. As he crossed the street, August reached into his coat's pocket, gripping his switchblade tightly. Just in case things took a turn for the worst.

Nobody greeted him at their entrance, like they normally did. It raised all kinds of red flags, yet August kept his head held high and switchblade close as he crept inside. His footsteps echoed down the hallway, following down a trail of dead cockroaches that lined the floor.

Where was everyone?

As August entered their lounging room, only tattered chairs greeted him. A musty stench made him wrinkle his nose as he scoured the room. Old paper plates scattered across the coffee table, yet nothing seemed like it'd been eaten recently. No signs of life could be found. August checked his phone again, sending Sierra another text.

"Anyone here?" August called out.

Keeping his back close to the wall, he stepped further into their hideout and made his way into the small kitchen. Pizza boxes were strewn across the counter and dishes piled up in the sink. When he reached their fridge, he almost slipped in puddles of blood spattered across the floor.

"Shit."

August needed to get the hell out of there. Just as he prepared to turn around, the basement door creaked open. Swallowing the lump in his throat, August confronted the man, clad in an old white butcher's apron decorated in blood stains. He donned a black mask, concealing all of his face, but August still recognized him.

"H-Hey, man." August's voice wavered as he took a cautious step backward. "Have you seen Sierra? She wanted to tell me something about a new client."

"Yeah, he's just right in here." Butch leered, gesturing down into the basement.

"Oh, well, um just tell Sierra I'll stop by later. Seems you're busy there." August clenched the switchblade tightly in his pocket, yet he knew the weapon wouldn't hold up against the larger man.