Tyler's pov
Gravel sprayed in a white arc so as smoke from the exhaust and dust as I yanked the wheel and spun the car back toward town. The tires screamed. My pulse screamed louder.
The photo burned in my head — Alexis, bound, bleeding, wide-eyed — and that jersey behind her. My jersey. The same one I'd bled and sweated in during my first game. Knife straight through the logo like they wanted to stab me in the heart.
I know I have enemies but it shouldn't have gotten to this point.
Erica's breathing was fast, erratic.
"We have to go to the police."
"The police will waste time," I bit out. "We need to get to her now."
"But what if—"
"No what-ifs," I said, gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles ached.
"She's alive in that photo. That means we have a window."
Erica looked out the passenger window, her hand pressed hard over her mouth. I could smell her fear — sharp, metallic — and under it, the faint scent that told me her omega instincts were in overdrive. She wasn't scared for herself. She was terrified for Alexis.
The road blurred beneath us, lines melting into streaks of white and yellow.
I kept seeing Alexis's face. Kept seeing the way the blood had smeared along her lip. That wasn't just a warning. That was an invitation. Someone wanted me to come running.
I checked the phone again. No caller ID. Burner phone. No surprise.
"We can't just drive blind," Erica said. "We don't know where she is."
"We know enough," I said, and pointed at the screen. "That wall. The one behind her? It's concrete. Cinderblock, unpainted. That's not a house. Could be a storage unit. A warehouse. Something industrial."
Erica's eyes flicked to me. "You noticed all that in one look?"
"I noticed it because I've been in rooms like that before." My jaw flexed. "And they're never good rooms to be in."
I took the next turn too fast. The back tires skidded but caught again. I knew Erica wanted to tell me to slow down. She didn't. Maybe she understood there was no slowing down from this.
The photo was still open on my phone, lying in the cup holder between us. My gaze kept darting to it, catching details — the faint rust stains on the floor, the shadow cast by a chain in the upper corner. Whoever sent this wanted me to notice.
The phone buzzed. Another message.
You've got until midnight, Alpha.
No demands. No instructions. Just the clock.
Erica sucked in a breath when she read it over my shoulder. "Why call you that?"
Because they know what I am. The thought clawed through me, but I didn't voice it. No sense making her panic more than she already was.
I hit the speaker button and dialed the one person who might still owe me a favor: Colt, my former teammate — and the only guy I knew who'd seen the underbelly of this city as much as I had.
He picked up on the third ring. "Tyler. Heard you were back in town. Didn't think you'd call unless it was—"
"An emergency? Congratulations, you're right."
"What's going on?"
"Someone's got Erica's roommate. Sent me a picture. She's tied up, bleeding, and my jersey's on the wall with a knife through it. I need to know every place in a fifty-mile radius that matches that wall — cinderblock, chain in the corner, rust stains."
Colt whistled low. "That's… specific."
"And urgent," I snapped. "Can you do it?"
"I can try. But Tyler—if this is connected to what I think it is—"
"I don't care what you think it's connected to. Just find the place." I ended the call before he could say more.
Erica had gone quiet. Too quiet. Her hands were twisted together in her lap, nails digging into her own skin.
"You okay?" I asked.
"No," she said without looking at me. "But I will be when we have Lex back."
The strength in her voice surprised me. Surprised, and maybe worried me. Because omegas weren't supposed to run toward danger. And yet, she wasn't shrinking from it.
The phone buzzed again. This time it was a video.
I tapped play.
Alexis flinched in the chair, her gaze darting to the side like someone was just out of frame. A deep voice — distorted, male — said, "Come alone, Alpha. Or we cut her."
Erica slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sound.
I replayed the last two seconds. Froze the frame. There — in the far corner of the wall — was a smudge. Red paint, faded, in the shape of a number.
"Seventeen," I muttered.
"What?"
"It's a warehouse number," I said, adrenaline spiking. "Industrial district. Dock seventeen. I know that place."
"You've been there?"
I nodded once. "And it's not somewhere you walk unarmed."
Erica grabbed my wrist. "Then we call the police. Please, Tyler."
"No." I looked her dead in the eye. "They said come alone. If the police show up, Alexis dies."
Her lip trembled, but she didn't argue.
I turned the car toward the docks, the smell of saltwater and rust already creeping into the air. The streets here were darker, narrower. Streetlights flickered like they hadn't been serviced in years.
We parked two blocks out. I killed the engine. The night was too still. No sirens. No movement. Just the low hum of the bay in the distance.
"Stay in the car," I told her.
Her eyes flashed. "No."
"Erica—"
"I'm not letting you walk in there alone. If they hurt you—" She stopped, swallowed. "If they hurt you, I'll never forgive myself."
A muscle jumped in my jaw. "Fine. But you stay behind me. And if I say run, you run."
She nodded once, quick and sharp.
We moved fast and silent, hugging the shadows. The warehouse loomed ahead — a hulking block of concrete with the faded "17" barely visible above a loading bay door.
I could smell them now.
We reached the side entrance. A faint metallic rattle drifted from inside, followed by a muffled cry. It had to be Alexis.
I was about to push the door when a voice spoke from the darkness behind us.
"Well, well. The Alpha finally comes sniffing."
We turned — and saw a figure step into the light, hood down, smile sharp as broken glass.
I knew that face.
And I'd never thought I'd see it again.
He wasn't after Alexis. He had a score to settle with me — one that went back years.