CHAOS

35 - The Taken - Part 1

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⚠️WARNING⚠️
This chapter contains scenes of violence and strong language.

Unedited!

Chaos awoke to the sounds of a moving vehicle, he then felt the tightness of the cable tied around his hands and the throb of his temple.
It didn't take long to realise he was in the back of their van, but he was alone.

Where the hell was Lennox?
His body was numb, feeling a slow trickle of blood run down from his cut eyebrow meeting his jaw and soon met the next source, soon his body was almost covered.

He groaned out in pain as the truck he was in made a sharp turn, his weary body slamming against the wall. Everything ached, boot sized bruises adorned his abdomen and chest, peeking through his torn shirt.
He struggles to breath, each inhale brought on a sharp pain. But despite everything he couldn't stop thinking about her.
Was she okay? Had they hurt her? Was she as bad as he was?

He worried if he would ever see her again, or if Alejandro had just killed her instead. He wasn't sure what to think, if she was dead... he wouldn't be able to hurt her. But the thought alone was enough to kill him, inside out.

He could hear the men in the front of the van talking animatedly in Spanish, for a moment he wish he had payed more attention in high school Spanish classes.
What seemed like hours rolled by, he couldn't count the times he had blacked out from the pain which radiated through his body. He had seen some things at the club but he had never been beaten by a single group of men that large... and then there was his father.

His skin crawled thinking of the sorry excuse of a man. He was undeserving of the title of his father and any inch of respect Chaos could give him.
He hadn't uttered his name in a long long time, Cillian Callahan was a tired little boy battered by his own father. The boy who was terrified of his own fathers voice.

Memories came crashing back into the depths of his mind as his body jostled in the trunk of the truck. His vision began to fade as fatigue took over and once again the world around him began to disappear.

The next time he woke, the world around him was dark, but still. He knew he hasn't hauled in the back of the van anymore. No, now he was in a dark and damp room, an empty void of nothingness. He couldn't see anything in front of him, the only thing he could hear was an eerie drip of a leaking pipe in the distance. His head was spinning, vision blurred and he couldn't quite focus on anything around him.

He had to get out and find Lennox.
He promised to keep her safe.

He heard heavy footsteps approaching, echoing around the small room. Soon enough the bolted metal door was pushed open, allowing a slither of light the illuminate the prison like cell. Chaos jumped at the opportunity to look around him, only now noticing the chains which hung from the ceiling, swaying side to side ever so slightly.

"Looking good Cillian" the voice of his father rang out through the empty room. Chaos cringed at the use of his birth name, it was no longer a part of him after all. His true father, Erik Sanderson gifted him with a new identity and a new life away from the clutches of this sick man and the memories of war which flooded his mind.

Clayton Callahan meant nothing to him anymore. The baritone husk of his voice, laced in sarcasm made his fists clench subconsciously.

"Surprised to see me?" he laughed into the darkness. "I know it's been awhile... you were just a little boy the last time I saw you. A little boy covered in bruises. They looked so pretty on you son. Just like they do now."