Kidnapped and running with the bad boys

Chapter 1

Tyler's POV

"This is bullshit."

The words came out before I even realized I was speaking. My hand slammed down on the marble counter, the sound echoing through the kitchen. Somewhere upstairs, something shattered. I didn't care.

Marco stood across from me, frozen. He hadn't said a word since he got the call. His eyes were locked on the floor, jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack.

"I can't fucking believe they took him," I continued, pacing now, anger crawling under my skin like fire ants. "Out of everyone. Diego."

Marco swallowed. "Ty—"

"I swear to God," I cut him off, pointing a finger at him, "we're getting him back. Tonight. I don't care who did it or how many bodies we leave behind."

That got his attention. He finally looked up at me, eyes glassy but sharp. "You promise?"

I grabbed my keys off the counter. "On my life."

I didn't wait for anything else. I shoved past him and stormed out of the mansion, the front doors slamming so hard the windows rattled.

Cold night air hit my face like a slap. Good. I needed it. Rage makes you sloppy. Cold keeps you focused.

If you don't know me, my name's Tyler Sky. I'm seventeen years old, and I run the Cobras.

Yeah, I know how that sounds. Seventeen. Gang leader. People laugh until they see what we're capable of.

The Cobras didn't just pop up overnight. We've been running from the police for seven years. Seven years of moving smarter, faster, and meaner than anyone else. No photos. No names. No descriptions. The most wanted gang in the country, and the cops don't even know what we look like.

Most of the officers who tried to get close? They either lost their minds... or they died.

Being the leader of the Cobras is the one thing in my life I'm proud of. A thousand members strong, money flowing like water, power everywhere you look. We own half this city, and the other half is too scared to admit it.

And then some idiots from the west side decided to kidnap Diego Rodriguez.

Biggest mistake of their lives.

Diego isn't just Marco's little brother. He's family. Always has been. When their parents disappeared, three kids were left to fend for themselves. Marco was nine. Diego was six. I was seven.

No one came to help.

So I did.

I brought them into my parents' house when no one was paying attention. Fed them. Hid them. Protected them. That was the beginning of the Cobras — not a gang, but a promise.

Protect what's yours. No matter the cost.

Now we live in three mansions. Bought, stolen, signed under fake names. Rich enough to disappear tomorrow if we wanted.

I slid into my matte black Camaro and started the engine, tires screeching as I pulled out.

Portland was about to learn what happens when you cross me.