CHAPTER 158: GET HER BACK

~AXEL~

"Layla!" I shouted. "Get down!"

I started running toward her, pushing through the panicked crowd, but something hard slammed into me from behind.

I turned around, throwing an elbow, connecting with someone’s jaw. Two men, dressed as security guards but obviously not, grabbed my arms. I twisted free and landed a punch that dropped one of them.

Then I felt it... a sharp sting in my shoulder.

"What the..."

Dart. They’d shot me with a tranquillizer dart.

My legs wobbled, but I fought against the sudden weakness, refusing to go down. I couldn’t go down. Not while Layla was...

Through the chaos and the red emergency lights, I saw them. Four men in waiter uniforms surrounding Layla’s crumpled form behind the bar.

"Layla!" I tried to run, but my legs gave out on me. I stumbled and crashed into a table.

Another gunshot ripped through the air, and someone screamed. Real security guards rushed in, guns ready, but more shots rang out. Two of them fell, clutching their injuries in pain.

The men grabbed Layla, lifting her unconscious body between them.

"No! Let her go!" I pushed myself up, took two steps, and my knees buckled again.

I watched helplessly as they carried my wife toward the service exit. "Layla!" My voice cracked. "LAYLA!"

The door slammed shut behind them.

I tried to stand again, but the tranquilliser was winning. My vision blurred, doubled, then sharpened with pure adrenaline and rage. I forced myself to stay conscious, digging my nails into my palms until I drew blood.

The lights flickered back on, flooding the space with harsh white light that made everything worse: the destruction, the blood, the overturned tables, the shattered glass.

People ran for exits, shoving and screaming. Some were calling for ambulances. Others were filming on their phones like vultures.

I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and dialled Tye.

He answered on the first ring. "What happened? I..."

"They took her, Tye. They took Layla."

"I’m on my way. Don’t move."

"Find the head of security. Now."

I pushed myself to my feet, fighting through the fog in my head. The drug made everything feel distant, but rage kept me moving.

The head of security, Marcus, a man I’d personally vetted and hired, was barking orders to his remaining team near the main entrance.

I grabbed him by his jacket and slammed him against the wall. "Where were you?" I growled. "Where the hell were you when they took my wife?"

"Mr. O’Brien, I..."

"You said this place was secure! You said you’d screened everyone!"

"Sir, we did. They must have..."

I didn’t let him finish; I threw my fist, connecting it hard with his jaw. The force of the punch was so much that he went down on impact.

"Mr O’Brien!" Someone grabbed my arm from behind. When I turned, it was a police officer. "Sir, you need to calm down."

"Calm down?" I wheeled on him. "They just kidnapped my wife!"

"I understand, but assaulting your own security..."

"He failed! His job was to keep her safe, and now she’s gone!"

Marcus was on the ground, blood on his lip, looking dazed. Part of me wanted to hit him again. The rational part knew it wouldn’t bring Layla back.

Tye appeared through the crowd, taking in the scene instantly. He stepped between me and Marcus, speaking in a low voice. "Walk away, Axel. Now."

"He..."

"I know. But you assault him again in front of the cops, you’re going in cuffs. And then you’re no use to Layla."

I stepped back, breathing hard, fists still clenched.

More police arrived. Lots of them. They started cordoning off the area, taking statements, and photographing evidence.

A detective walked up to me; he looked to be in his mid-forties, had tired eyes, and wore a cheap suit. "Mr. O’Brien?" he said. "I’m Detective Hayes. I need to ask you a few questions."

"My wife was just kidnapped. What questions could you possibly..."

"I need your statement. Everything you saw, everything that happened. The more information we have, the faster we can find her."

"You’re standing here taking statements while the people who have my wife are escaping. Every second we waste..."

"Sir, I understand your frustration, but we need to follow procedure..."

"Procedure?" My voice rose. "They’re probably already miles away, and you want to talk about procedure?"

Tye’s hand landed on my shoulder, and I forced myself to breathe... to think. Losing control wouldn’t help Layla. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

The detective pulled out a notebook. "Walk me through the evening. When did you arrive?"

"Eight-thirty."

"Did you notice anything unusual? Anyone acting suspicious?"

"No. Everything was normal until the lights went out."

"And then?"

"Gunshots. Emergency lights came on. Four men dressed as waiters, but they weren’t waiters. They moved like military, looked professional."

"Can you describe them?"

"Masks. Black. I couldn’t see their faces. They grabbed my wife and shot me with some kind of tranquilliser."

"You were drugged?"

"Yes. Still fighting it off." I showed him the dart wound on my shoulder.

"We’ll need to have that examined."

"I’m fine."

"Sir..."

"I said I’m fine. What else?"

The detective asked more questions, including timeline, witness, and security-related inquiries. Each one felt like we were wasting precious seconds while Layla was out there, somewhere, terrified and alone.

Another officer joined us. He was younger, a bit cocky, and had an attitude that rubbed me the wrong way right away.

"Mr. O’Brien, I’m Officer Bradford. Just a few follow-up questions."

"I already answered questions."

"I know, but we need to verify some details. Your wife, she’s in the cosmetics business, correct?"

"Yes."

"Any business enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt her?"

I considered talking about the cartel, but that might only make matters. worse if Sinaloa thinks we are trying to expose them. "No, can’t think of anyone."

The officer’s eyebrow raised. "You sure? I mean..."

Something in his tone made my blood boil. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing. Just saying it’s kinda odd. Most kidnappings are either planned or targeted. Or... convenient. You know... wife gets kidnapped, husbands becomes the hero... good for publicity."

Tye moved fast, stepping between us before I could do something stupid.

"Officer Bradford," Tye said in a dangerously calm voice, "I suggest you focus on finding Mrs. O’Brien instead of insulting her husband."

"I’m just doing my job."

"Then do it somewhere else."

Bradford looked like he wanted to argue, but Detective Hayes stepped in. "Bradford, go help with witness statements. I’ll handle this."

The officer left and Detective Hayes sighed. "I apologise for my colleague. He’s... new."

"He’s an asshole," I said flatly.

"That too." Hayes closed his notebook. "Look, I understand you’re frustrated. But we’re doing everything we can. I’ve put out an APB, and we’re reviewing all security footage from the building and surrounding area."

"How long until you have something?"

"Hard to say. Could be hours, could be days."

"Days?" My voice cracked. "She might not have days."

"Mr. O’Brien, I promise you, finding your wife is our priority. Go home. Get some rest. We’ll call you the moment we have any updates."

"Rest? Are you serious?"

"Sir, you’ve been drugged. You need medical attention and sleep. You’re no good to anyone like this."

"I’m not leaving until..."

"Axel." Tye’s voice was firm. "He’s right. We need to regroup, come up with a plan."

"But..."

"Trust me on this. Please."

Every instinct screamed at me to stay, to search, to do something. But Tye was right. The police weren’t going to let me help, and I was running on adrenaline and tranquillisers.

"Do you need an escort home?" Detective Hayes asked.

"No. I’m fine."

"Call me if you remember anything else. Day or night." He handed me his card.

I took it without looking at it, then turned and walked toward the exit. Tye fell into step beside me.

The cold night air hit me like a slap in the face. It felt fresh and normal, but my mind was elsewhere. Layla was out there, and... I couldn’t even finish the thought.

We reached my car. I stood there, key fob in hand, staring at the passenger seat where Layla should be.

"Get in," Tye said. "I’m driving."

I didn’t argue; I didn’t even have the strength or zeal to say anything. We both got into the car, and Tye started the engine, humming softly beneath us.

For a moment, we sat in silence, staring ahead, neither of us ready to move. You didn’t need tobe an empath to feel the tension around us.

Finally, I broke the silence. "Are your men ready?" I asked, not looking at him.

"Always." He replied but then paused. "Just one problem. We have no idea where they took her."

I stared at my wedding ring, the gold band that matched Layla’s. "I know how we can find her."

Tye turned to look at me. "How?"