Breaking the Rules [BoyxBoy]

26.2 | нσℓ∂ υρ

If the weapon is your love, I got my hands up
If you're gonna take me down, I surrender

Chapter 26.2 ~ Hold Up

Trey Carter

After watching yet another raccoon scurry across the street in a desperate frenzy to leap into the dumpster to get its dinner for the night, I quickly became annoyed with my designated position as "the-guy-who-keeps-watch." It had been thirty five minutes since the others left to rescue Owen. They said they'd be quick—in and out, they said—but I had successfully listened to an entire Drake album and they still hadn't returned.

My mind had begun to resort to dark, brooding thoughts about what could be happening right now. If Lucifer was as dangerous and violent as everyone said he was, then it was very possible that Lucifer had caught them and killed them all without any remorse. I didn't want to think like that, though, because that would mean that I was a witness to all of this. I wouldn't even know how to begin to explain this to the police, so I hoped that I would never have to. Still, Owen was in there, and if they couldn't rescue him, who would?

Tugging my earbuds out of my ears, I relaxed in my seat and stared straight ahead at the street. It was approaching the late hours of night, so there weren't many cars in sight. I was sure it wouldn't be too much of a big deal if I abandoned my designated job and tried to figure out what was going on, so I stuffed my earbuds into my pocket and inched out of the car with caution.

I had suddenly decided to play the role of savior, or hero, if you will, but reality was I was shaking in my shoes. My knees must've wobbled enough to hit each other several times for the entire journey toward the warehouse. I willed myself to take deep breaths, to bring myself together, as I maneuvered my way past the same entrance the others had gone through, proceeding with care and simultaneously brushing my fingers against the gun tucked away in my back pocket.

Never would I have thought that I'd be put in such a position. I lived my whole life as a rich mixed guy who lived in a good neighborhood, went to a good school, and led a relatively good life aside from some setbacks here and there. Now here I was, donning a firearm and trespassing in hopes of stopping a major drug lord, thereby succumbing to the expectations society had put in place for a guy like me.

But this thought didn't even deter me. I had gotten way too involved to back down now. I was well aware I could die in the process of trying to be a hero, but that didn't faze me as much as I thought it would—at least it was more exciting than the current boring and repetitive life I lived.

The warehouse was dark; I had to stumble and feel around for the walls to keep myself on my feet. Eventually, I came across a narrow hallway that provided some source of light in this eerie darkness. I followed this hallway until the light source became more prominent and until I could hear distinct voices. Pressing my back against the wall and slowly inching forward, I tried to get a sense of the nature of the conversation these voices were having. One thing was clear: the voices were definitely male and they definitely sounded older and just as intimidating as I perceived men who worked for a drug lord would sound.

"What's for dinner?" one of the men (a closer look confirmed it was the taller of the two) asked the other. They were both stationed at opposite sides of the hallway's clearing.

"Couple guys and I are trying to get pizza after we're done here. Don't know how long Lucifer's planning to take with those kids. I don't have all day—my wife will freak if I'm not home by one and I'm not trying to hear her wrath."