Chapter 145
Victor appeared at the doorway, and upon seeing the scene inside, his brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of shock passing through his eyes.
He took a deep breath and stepped inside, his boots carefully avoiding the dark red liquid spreading across the floor.
"Vitale, there's a package for you. It was just delivered to the castle gate. No name, no mailing info, as it appeared out of thin air."
Vitale didn't turn around, his voice unusually hoarse and tired, "What package? I don't want to see any packages right now."
His voice paused, then he suddenly spun around, his gray-blue eyes locking onto Victor with a desperate intensity, brimming with anxiety and hope, "Any news about Isabella? Anything at all?"
Victor slowly shook his head, "Sorry, not yet. But we've got everyone on it, every resource and connection we have. We're searching every corner of Thalassia as fast as we can, tracking suspicious vehicles and boats, analyzing the tiny bit of surveillance footage you brought back. Blake's people have also agreed to help behind the scenes. We just need a little time, Vitale."
He saw the faint spark of hope in Vitale's eyes extinguish instantly, swallowed by a deeper darkness. Quickly, he added, "But you've got to stay calm, Vitale. Really, you need to rest, even if it's just closing your eyes for an hour. You've got to keep your head clear. If you break down first, who's going to save Isabella? Who's going to lead all this? It'll only make things worse for her."
"Rest?" Vitale seemed to hear the biggest joke in the world. He took a sudden step forward, his voice rising sharply, rough with the edge of breaking, "Victor! Do you think I can close my eyes right now? Every time I do, all I see is her! Her scared face, what she might be going through... God!"
After a raw, venting growl, he took several deep breaths, forcing himself to focus on something practical, as if that could momentarily pull him away from his worry for Isabella.
"What about Henley? Has he woken up?" Vitale asked, his voice still hoarse but regaining a bit of clarity.
Henley was the person he cared about most right now, aside from Isabella—not just because of loyalty, but because Henley was there when it happened and might hold key information.
Victor answered immediately, "Yes, he woke up two hours ago. The anesthesia wore off. He's still weak, but he's conscious."
"As soon as he woke up and heard about Ms. Lorraine's disappearance, he nearly jumped out of bed. Ignored the doctors, tried to yank out his IV, and went to look for her himself. Luckily, Amboni had people stationed at the hospital. It took a lot of convincing to get him back in bed. The doctor said his emotions are running high, which isn't good for his recovery."
Hearing that Henley was awake, a trace of relief flashed in Vitale's eyes, but it was quickly overtaken by deeper anxiety.
He needed Henley alive, needed him to provide clues, but it was clear Henley's emotions were unstable, too.
"Keep an eye on him. Make sure he rests and heals, but try to ask him if he remembers anything more specific about the attackers. Any detail could help," Vitale said, rubbing his throbbing temples, "And what about Frand? Is everything arranged?"
At the mention of Frand, Victor's expression grew a bit more serious, "Yes, through Blake's network and resources, we've set him up with a new identity, almost impossible to trace."
"The backstory is that he's the son of a bankrupt small-time merchant from the south, fallen on hard times, harboring a deep grudge against the mafia, and eager to join a cause for justice. Blake's people introduced him to a low-level recruiter for an anti-mafia group in Thalassia. He passed the initial screening yesterday and got in."
"From the bits of intel Frand sent back, and some side info from Blake, the leader of that group is called Barton Vasquez. Sounds like an ordinary old man's name, but word is he's a seriously dangerous guy."
"On the surface, he might seem friendly, even like a kind neighborly grandpa, but he's ruthless and sharp as a tack. There's a popular story that he once took out several mafia bosses with a smile on his face."
"Not a figure of speech—he literally did it while smiling warmly, shaking hands, or chatting, then struck suddenly, killing them in one move."
Hearing this, Vitale's perpetually grim face finally showed a different emotion.
Not fear, but a cold, almost predatory interest, like a hunter spotting worthy prey.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a short, icy smirk, "Dying with a smile?"
"I don't know if that holds any special meaning, but I do know plenty of ways to make someone suffer a hundred, a thousand times worse than death while fully conscious, and drag it out for a long time. This Barton has piqued my interest."
He looked at Victor, "What else do we know about him? His background? Real appearance? Habits? Base of operations?"
Victor shook his head, a mix of frustration and concern on his face, "Frand just got in, so he's nowhere near the inner circle. The intel he's sent back is just these vague descriptions. Word is Barton is extremely secretive. Very few people know what he really looks like or who he actually is."
"You know, not everyone operates in the public eye like you do, running a company. This Barton could be a dock worker unloading cargo during the day, a bookstore owner on the corner, or a long-haul truck driver. No one can pin him down."
"He's like a ghost, only existing in the legends and awe of the higher-ups in Thorn of Justice."
Victor paused, then added, "But Frand did mention something. Barton apparently has an adopted daughter named Eva. Sounds like a nice name, but rumor has it she's just as ruthless, one of Barton's most trusted aides and killers."
"Eva..." Vitale narrowed his eyes, chewing on the name, "And we don't know what she looks like either?"
"Nope," Victor confirmed, "Just as mysterious as Barton. Maybe our intel network is getting outdated. We need to upgrade, dig deeper into the nests of these rats hiding in the shadows. But you've been dealing with these urgent matters and haven't given a clear order to update the network."
Vitale stayed silent for a few seconds.
He knew Victor was right.
Venting anger wouldn't solve anything. Only precise information and a cool-headed plan could help find Isabella.
His earlier loss of control came partly from extreme fear for Isabella's safety and partly from anger and underestimation of this hidden enemy bold enough to strike at him directly.
"Enough," Vitale said, his voice returning to its usual cold firmness.
He bent down, picked up the suit jacket he'd thrown aside earlier, and put it on. "Let's go to the hospital to see Henley first. He's my best scout. His instincts and senses are sharper than most of ours. Maybe he picked up on something we missed before or after he passed out."
Victor looked at Vitale's straightened back and the icy sharpness returning to his eyes, feeling a slight relief.
As long as Vitale could still think and act, there was still hope.
He nodded, "Yeah, Henley's really good. Let's head to the hospital now."
The two turned to leave the bloody dungeon.
As they passed the doorway, Victor glanced at the corner of the room, hesitated, then pointed at the package on the floor, "This package—you really don't want to open it and check? At a time like this, an anonymous package..." Victor reminded him, a hint of instinctive caution in his tone.
Vitale stopped in his tracks.
He slowly turned around, his gaze falling on the lone package on the floor.
The brown paper was plain, with no markings, tied with rough twine.
It lay there quietly, out of place amidst the blood and violence, yet carrying an indescribable eeriness.
Vitale stared at it for a long time.
So long that Victor almost thought he wouldn't respond.
The harsh white light of the basement cast deep shadows on his face, making his tense profile look like it was carved from stone.
Finally, Vitale gave a slow, barely noticeable shake of his head, "No."