Chapter 193 Chapter Ninety-Eight: “We Have To Find Ileana!” (Part 2).
Chapter 193 Chapter Ninety-Eight: “We Have To Find Ileana!” (Part 2).
Chapter Ninety-Eight: “We Have To Find Ileana!” (Part 2).
Edward remained standing.
“We’re not here for pleasantries.”
Silas Thorne smirked as he lit a cigarette. He took his time exhaling, smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling before he glanced up.
“Never liked small talk anyway.”
Walter stepped forward, placing both hands flat on the table.
“We’re here about Wyatt Veis.”
That did it.
Silas blinked once.
“Wyatt… Veis?”
“Yes,”
Edward said evenly.
“Your partner.”
Silas chuckled under his breath.
“In what, exactly?”
“In murder,”
Edward replied.
“Multiple counts.”
Silas laughed softly, shaking his head.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“Yes, you do, Thorne,”
Edward said.
“There’s no point pretending anymore. We know about the killings tied to Doxoten—and we know they lead back to you. You've already been charged. So why play this game?”
Silas leaned farther into his chair; cigarette balanced between two fingers.
“Those are some serious accusations.”
Walter slammed his palm against the table.
“Your wife and daughter already talked.”
The smile slipped from Silas’s face—only for a heartbeat.
“Rachel and Elise?”
he scoffed.
“Rachel doesn’t know anything worth listening to. And Elise only said what she thinks she knows.”
“They knew enough,”
Walter said coldly.
“Enough to bring you here.”
Silas shrugged.
“Then why am ‘I’ the one sitting here? Why not call them in?”
Edward stepped closer.
“Because we want Veis’s whereabouts. And that’s something only you know.”
Silas’s lips curled again, slower this time.
“This has something to do with Ileana,”
he said.
“You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
A fourth voice cut in—low, controlled, heavy with restraint.
“This isn’t a game.”
Silas turned his head slightly.
“No?”
Remy Sinclair stood motionless, eyes locked on him.
“No,”
Remy said quietly.
“This is a clock.”
Silas studied him, recognition dawning.
“Ah… Sinclair. You’re part of the reason that ungrateful brat became such a thorn in my side.”
Remy’s eyes darkened.
“Do I look like a joke to you, Thorne?”
Silas lifted his hands in mock surrender.
“Of course not, Mr. Sinclair. I’m well aware of who you are—and the power you wield.”
Remy took a step closer.
“Then you also know I don’t bluff.”
Silas chuckled.
“Is that a threat?”
Edward cut in sharply.
“Last chance. Tell us where Veis is.”
Silas folded his arms behind his head.
“My attorney says I don’t have to say a word.”
Walter exhaled through his nose.
“You’re hiding behind paperwork while your daughter—”
Silas’s eyes sharpened.
“What hold does that useless girl have on you all—”
SLAM.
The table rattled.
“Don’t you say her name like that.”
Remy crossed the room in two strides. He seized Silas by the collar and slammed him forward. Shackles clanked as Silas gasped, chest hitting the table.
“That psycho took Ileana,”
Remy snarled, tightening his grip.
“My fiancée. Your daughter. Do you feel anything at all—or are you really that dead inside?”
Silas clawed at Remy’s wrist.
“H—Help—”
“The guards aren’t coming,”
Walter said calmly.
“We made sure of that.”
Edward added without emotion,
“And if you die in here, the paperwork will be… inconvenient.”
Silas’s bravado collapsed.
“O—Okay! Okay!”
he choked.
“Just—just loosen—”
Remy eased the pressure just enough for Silas to breathe.
“Talk,”
he said.
Silas coughed violently as he straightened.
“You checked his warehouses, didn’t you?”
Edward nodded.
“All the ones we knew about.”
Silas swallowed hard.
“Then you’re looking under the wrong name.”
Walter stiffened.
“What name?”
“Vega,”
Silas said quickly.
“W. Vega.”
Edward blinked.
“Vega?”
Silas nodded frantically.
“Alias. He uses it for black-market compounds. Properties. Storage units. Paper trails.”
Walter was already pulling out his phone.
“Run Vega. All districts.”
Edward followed suit.
“Financials. Shell companies. Leases.”
Remy leaned in again, voice low and lethal.
“If she’s not alive,”
he said,
“your life here—however long that may be—I’m going to personally see to it that you live in hell.”
Silas nodded, tears streaking down his face.
“I’m telling the truth. I swear.”
Minutes later, badges were returned at the front desk.
“We’ve got two teams pulling everything on W. Vega,”
Walter said as they moved toward the exit.
“If there’s property—”
“—she’s there,”
Edward finished.
“Alive.”
A voice stopped them.
“Excuse me… did you say W. Vega?”
They turned.
A man near the desk stood frozen, eyes wide.
Remy stepped toward him.
“You know that name?”
The man hesitated.
“I—yes.”
Walter’s gaze narrowed.
“Who are you?”
“Before I answer,”
the man said carefully,
“why are you looking for him?”
Remy’s voice tightened with barely restrained fury.
“Do you know who we are?”
The man went pale.
“…You’re Remington Sinclair. And you two are the generals.”
Remy moved closer.
“Very good. Then you understand we have zero patience for games. Tell us what you know.”
The man swallowed.
“He took her… didn’t he?”
he whispered.
“He took Ileana Green. Your fiancée.”
Edward stepped in.
“I’ll ask again. Who are you?”
The man straightened, resigned.
“Oliver Gould,”
he said.
“Private investigator.”
Walter stiffened.
“And?”
Oliver’s voice dropped.
“I was hired by Mr. Vega.”
A beat.
“To take pictures of Ms. Green.”
\------
Remy, Edward, and Walter marched into an empty office at the jail, Oliver Gould stumbling in right behind them.
“Shut the door. Now.”
Edward’s command cracked through the air. Oliver flinched and obeyed, the heavy door slamming shut with a hollow echo.
He barely had time to turn around before Remy grabbed him by the arm and drove him back-first into the wall. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs.
“Talk.”
Oliver sucked in a shaky breath. His knees locked as he stared at the three men before him—three of Peoria’s most powerful figures, their expressions carved from fury and steel.
‘I should never have taken him as a client.’
“I-I’m a licensed PI,”
Oliver stammered, hands trembling.
“I have my certification—”
“We don’t give a shit about your credentials,”
Remy snapped, his forearm pressing harder into Oliver’s chest.
“Tell us what you know about Veis and my fiancé.”
“H-He paid me,”
Oliver blurted out.
“To take pictures of her.”
Walter stepped forward, his voice calm but edged with menace.
“What kind of pictures?”
“Everyday ones,”
Oliver said quickly.
“Her at school. At home. Out in public. He wanted her happy—smiling. Always smiling.”
Remy’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“I don’t know! I swear,”
Oliver insisted.
“It’s part of my policy—don’t ask, don’t tell.”
His voice faltered before dropping lower.
“But… I could tell something wasn’t right.”
The room went unnervingly still.
Edward spoke next.
“What made you think that?”
Oliver swallowed hard.
“He framed them. The photos. I’d drop them off at his apartment and he’d just… stand there. Staring at them. For long periods of time. It wasn’t normal—felt obsessive.”
Remy took a slow step closer.
“So you knew something was wrong,”
he said quietly, dangerously,
“and you still stalked my fiancé?”
“No!”
Oliver shook his head violently.
“I didn’t know he’d hurt her—I swear! I didn’t know any—”
“Bullshit.”
Remy slammed his hand against the wall beside Oliver’s head.
“The second you heard his name, you knew he took her.”
Oliver’s shoulders sagged. He lowered his head, guilt crashing down all at once.
“You’re right,”
he admitted softly.
“I had a bad feeling about Wyatt for a while… but I kept working for him anyway.”
Walter exhaled through his nose.
“Mr. Gould. Wyatt Vega isn’t his real name. It’s Veis. He’s an apothecary—and he’s dangerous. Ileana is in danger every minute she’s still with him.”
Oliver looked up, panic flooding his face. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small notepad.
“I can give you the address where I normally dropped off his—”
He stopped abruptly.
Remy caught the hesitation instantly.
“What?”
Oliver glanced up.
“…This past weekend,”
he said slowly.
“While you were hosting that gathering on your rooftop… he had me take photos again.”
Remy’s eyes flared, heat rising up his neck.
“You stalked her on my property?”
“Remy!”
Edward barked.
“Focus.”
Oliver nodded frantically.
“He told me to deliver them somewhere else this time.”
Remy’s voice dropped to a tight whisper.
“Where?”
“The loft building on 34th and Lancaster.”
Remy’s breath hitched.
34th and Lancaster. Only a few blocks from his penthouse. Veis had been that close the entire time.
Remy glanced back at Oliver,
“Write down both addresses.”
Oliver nodded as he quickly began writing. Soon, both Edward and Walter were back on their phones.
Two teams were assembled; one for each location.