Return of the Northern War God

#2

CHAPTER 2 

Inside aunt Betty’s house on Greenville, blood splattered across the faded wallpaper. 

Aunt Betty lay crumpled near the stairs, her legs bent at unnatural angles. Her face was swollen and bruised. Blood trickled from her split lip. 

Four men stood around her, laughing. 

"Look at her," one of them said, nudging her broken leg with his boot. Aunt Betty bit back a scream. "Could've lived like a queen, you know. Frederick Lancaster would've set you up nice. Big house. Money. All you had to do was keep your mouth shut about his little bastards." 

"Instead," another one of the men chimed in, grinning, "you cut ties with him. Took his kids and ran. And for what? To end up here, bleeding on a dirty floor?" 

Aunt Betty's eyes blazed with hatred despite the pain. "Frederick... was a coward. I'd rather die... than take a single cent... from that family." 

The kidnappers burst into laughter. 

"Oh, you'll die alright," the first man said. He pulled out a metal club, tapping it against his palm. "But not yet. First, we're gonna break every bone in your body. Arms, legs, ribs. Then maybe we'll get creative. Ever heard of..." 

"Enough talk," a third man interrupted. He was thicker than the others, with scarred knuckles and cold eyes. "The girl's already been sent to the auction. This old bitch should be worrying about herself, not some brat who's probably being prepped for some rich bastard's bed right now." 

Aunt Betty's face went white. "No... Celeste..." 

"Oh yes." The scarred man crouched down, grabbing her chin roughly. "Your precious niece is gone. But you? You still got value. Tell us where Adrian Lancaster is, and we'll make it quick. One bullet. Clean. Otherwise..." He gestured to the clubs. "We take our time." 

"Go to hell," Aunt Betty spat blood in his face. 

The man wiped it off slowly, his expression darkening. He raised the club to strike but before he could... 

The front door exploded inward. 

Wood splintered. The doorframe cracked. And Adrian Lancaster stepped through the wreckage like death itself. 

He was still in his combat uniform, dust and ash smeared across the tactical vest. His face was calm while his eyes swept the room with the cold precision of a predator counting prey. 

Four kidnappers. One broken woman on the floor. No sign of Celeste. 

"Well, well." The scarred man straightened up, grinning. "Adrian Lancaster. We were hoping you'd show up, but I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to walk right into our hands." 

One of the others pulled out a phone, fingers flying across the screen. "Boss, he's here. Lancaster just walked in." 

"Good." The scarred man cracked his knuckles. "Trevor's on his way. All we gotta do is keep him busy till then. Shouldn't be hard. Four against one." 

"Adrian, run!" Aunt Betty's voice cracked with desperation. Blood bubbled at the corner of her mouth. "They've already called... just go! Save yourself!" 

Adrian's eyes flicked to her for just a moment. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Gentle, even. 

"Don't worry, Aunt Betty. This will only take a minute." 

Then he moved. 

The first kidnapper didn't even see it coming. Adrian closed the distance in two steps and drove his fist into the man's stomach. The impact lifted him off his feet. He flew backward, crashed through the coffee table, and didn't move again. 

"What the..." 

The second kidnapper swung his club wildly. Adrian caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted, and the sharp crack of breaking bone echoed through the room. The man screamed. Adrian silenced him with an elbow to the temple. He dropped like a puppet with cut strings. 

The third kidnapper fumbled for a gun at his waist. Adrian was already there. He grabbed the man's hand, forced the gun down, and delivered a brutal knee to the ribs. Once. Twice. Three times. Each impact drove the air from the man's lungs until he collapsed, gasping like a fish. 

Ten seconds. Three men down. 

The scarred man and the one with the phone backed toward the wall, eyes wide with sudden fear. 

"You... you're supposed to be a soldier," the scarred man stammered. "Not some kind of..." 

"Where is my sister?" Adrian's voice hadn't risen. Hadn't changed at all. Somehow, that made it more terrifying. 

"We already called Trevor Rodrigez!" The man with the phone held it up like a shield. "He's coming! The heir to the Rodrigez family! Old money in Greenville! You're dead, Lancaster! You hear me? Dead!" 

Adrian stopped walking. His head tilted slightly. 

"Trevor Rodrigez," he repeated slowly. The name seemed to trigger something. His eyes narrowed. "Rodrigez family. One of Natasha Christian-Grey's minor subordinates." 

"That's right!" The scarred man saw the pause as weakness. His confidence started creeping back. "You scared now? You should be! Trevor's got connections all over this city. Police, judges, politicians — they all answer to him. And he answers to the Christian-Grey family. You think you can fight that?" 

He started laughing. The man with the phone joined in, their fear transforming into mocking bravado. 

"What are you gonna do, soldier boy? You gonna arrest us? Call your army buddies?" The scarred man sneered. "This is Greenville. This is our territory. You're nothing here. Just another..." 

Adrian's fist shot forward. 

The punch caught the scarred man square in the face. His nose shattered. Blood exploded across his features. But Adrian didn't stop there. He grabbed the man by the throat, lifted him slightly off the ground, and slammed him against the wall so hard the drywall cracked. 

"I don't have time," Adrian said quietly, "for games." 

He let the body drop. The scarred man slid down the wall, leaving a red smear, and didn't get up.  

The last kidnapper dropped his phone. It clattered on the floor, screen still lit up with an active call. The man's hands shot up in surrender. 

"Please... I don't know anything...I'm just..." 

Adrian turned to him. The man's words died in his throat. 

"Where is my sister?" 

"I...I don't... they don't tell us..." 

Adrian took one step forward. The man flinched so hard he hit the wall behind him. 

"Okay! Okay! All I know is they took her somewhere for an auction! Some underground thing! Rich buyers! But I swear I don't know where! They never tell guys like us the location! That's all above our pay grade!" 

Adrian stared at him for a long moment. Then he moved past him without another word, kneeling beside Aunt Betty. 

Her eyes were barely open. Blood had pooled beneath her from internal injuries. Adrian's hands were suddenly gentle as he cradled her head. 

"Aunt Betty. Stay with me." 

"Adrian..." Her voice was so faint he had to lean close. "Celeste... they took her... forty minutes ago. Auction..." Each word was a struggle. "I'm sorry. I couldn't... couldn't protect her..." 

"You did everything you could. You kept her safe for ten years." 

"Find her." Aunt Betty's hand weakly gripped his wrist. Her eyes focused on his with sudden intensity. "Promise me. Find her before... before they..." 

"I promise." 

Her hand went limp. Her eyes closed. Adrian's fingers went to her neck, checking for a pulse. It was weak, thready, but there. 

"Call an ambulance," he said without looking back at the remaining kidnapper. "Now." 

The man scrambled for his dropped phone with shaking hands. 

Adrian stood slowly, laying Aunt Betty down carefully.  

He turned to the last conscious kidnapper, who was frantically dialling 911. 

"Where did you say this Trevor Rodrigez was?" 

"He... he's coming here! I told you! He's on his way with backup... " 

Adrian walked to the shattered front door and looked out at the quiet suburban street. Two black SUVs were pulling up to the curb, engines rumbling. The doors opened and men in expensive suits stepped out, most of them carrying visible weapons. 

And in the centre of it all, a young man in a tailored three-piece suit emerged from the lead vehicle. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, with slicked-back hair and the kind of smug confidence that came from never facing real consequences. 

Trevor Rodrigez. 

Adrian's expression didn't change. 

"Good," Adrian said quietly. "Now here's someone who does know."