Chapter 113. Linked

**113\. Linked**

***Third Person's POV*** 

Travis could feel his patience wearing thin as Stav hesitated before him. The investigator had never been one to hold back, especially when reporting to Travis. But this time, Stav seemed reluctant to lay all the cards on the table, and that only heightened Travis’s frustration.

"Stav, I need you to explain everything to me. Fully," Travis demanded, his tone clipped.

Stav shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. His hesitation was unusual, which only made Travis more uneasy. Stav’s loyalty and efficiency were unmatched—he never hesitated to share findings, no matter how grim. If he was holding back now, the situation was far worse than Travis had anticipated.

"Will you speak, Stav?" Travis’s voice dropped, laced with irritation. He leaned forward, pinning Stav with a sharp gaze.

Finally, Stav sighed, his voice heavy with reluctance. "Sir, I'm afraid that if I tell you and Mrs. Sabrina the truth, it might destroy both of you. You might end up hating yourselves."

Travis’s jaw clenched as he straightened in his chair. "Do you take us for children, Stav? Sabrina and I are adults. We've both faced hard truths before. Whatever it is, just say it."

Stav hesitated a moment longer before dropping the bomb. "Mrs. Sabrina’s actions... her pursuit of justice... were the reason her parents were murdered, sir."

The room seemed to still. Travis stared at Stav as if the man had lost his mind. "Are you hearing yourself? What the hell are you saying?" he demanded, disbelief tinged with fury.

"I’ve double-checked every lead, sir," Stav continued, his tone unwavering despite Travis’s growing agitation. "It’s all connected. Just before her parents' deaths, Mrs. Sabrina had someone arrested—someone who orchestrated everything that followed. This person’s retaliation led to their deaths."

Travis felt a cold chill run through him. "No," he whispered, shaking his head. "That can’t be. Sabrina... she's honest, hardworking. She fights for the truth, Stav! How could anyone want to harm her for that?"

Stav held his ground. "Sir, the truth often makes enemies, especially for someone like Mrs. Sabrina. The man she reported wasn’t just anyone. He had power, connections, and a vindictive nature. He planned everything."

Travis ran a hand through his hair, struggling to process Stav's words. Sabrina was so kindhearted, so devoted to justice—it was impossible to imagine someone harboring such hatred toward her. But deep down, he knew Stav wouldn’t lie. The facts were undeniable.

"There’s more, sir," Stav said, his voice lower now. "I uncovered that Mr. Jayden Kline—Sabrina’s father—could have survived the accident. Immediate medical attention might have saved him. But this man used his influence to delay care, ensuring Mr. Kline’s death. As for Mrs. Kline..." Stav hesitated, his tone softening. "She died at the scene. It was all planned, sir."

Travis’s fists clenched at his sides. His mind raced with anger and disbelief. Sabrina had already endured so much—how could he let her face this truth? She would blame herself for everything, even though she was only doing her job, fighting for justice.

"She can’t know," Travis muttered through gritted teeth. "Not yet. She’ll think it’s her fault when it’s not. And when I find this bastard... I’ll show him what real retribution looks like."

Stav nodded solemnly. "You have my word, sir. I won’t say anything unless you ask me to."

Travis trusted Stav implicitly, more than anyone else. Stav wasn’t just a private investigator—he was the best in his field, running an agency that operated quietly and efficiently. He rarely worked personally for anyone, but when Travis needed him, Stav had stepped in without hesitation.

"Who is this man?" Travis asked, his voice cold with determination. "And how is this tied to Den?"

Stav swallowed hard, fumbling for words. "Sir... it’s... it’s Rick Oreans. He’s the one Sabrina had detained."

The name hit Travis like a sledgehammer. His eyes narrowed dangerously as the pieces began to fall into place. 

Travis felt the ground slip from beneath him the moment the name left Stav’s lips. It couldn't be true. It didn’t make sense. What connection could he possibly have to all of this?

The name Rick Oreans was not unfamiliar to Travis—it carried a weight that churned his stomach. Their history was long and acrimonious, a feud that had never truly died down.

"Stav," Travis’s voice was tight, his tone demanding but laced with unease. "Don’t tell me he was involved in Den’s accident."

He hoped for Stav to refute it, to tell him it was impossible, but the look in Stav’s eyes spoke volumes.

Instead of answering, Stav reached into his bag and retrieved a CD, his hands trembling as he handed it to Travis. "Sir, you need to see this. It will explain everything," he said quietly.

Travis took the CD, his fingers curling tightly around it as if it might shatter. Sliding it into his laptop, he hit play and leaned back, his heart pounding.

Stav stood to the side, his posture tense, bracing himself for the storm he knew was coming.

The screen came to life with grainy footage from a CCTV recording. Travis immediately recognized the scene. His breath hitched—it was the site of Denissa’s death.

The footage showed Den’s car driving along the road. Everything seemed normal at first until a truck came barreling down another lane at full speed. Travis’s jaw tightened as he realized it was heading straight for Den.

He leaned forward, his chest tightening as he watched helplessly. His sharp eyes caught the panic in Den’s expression as she frantically struggled with something in her car.

Travis paused the video and zoomed in, his hands trembling. His stomach dropped as he noticed something—her brakes.

"They were tampered with," he whispered to himself, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

Resuming the footage, he watched in horror as Den’s car crossed the intersection, the truck closing in on her at a terrifying speed.

"No, Den! Pull back!" Travis shouted at the screen, his voice cracking with emotion.

The impact was brutal. The truck slammed into her car with such force that it flipped over and skidded across the road. Pieces of metal and glass scattered everywhere as the vehicle tumbled to a stop.

Travis’s hands gripped the edges of the desk, his knuckles white. His instinct was to reach out, to save her, but Stav grabbed his arm firmly, grounding him to reality.

"Sir," Stav said softly, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. "There’s more. You need to keep watching."

Travis’s heart was pounding, his vision blurry with rage and grief. "What else, Stav?" he growled, barely holding himself together.

"Please, sir. Just watch," Stav urged, stepping back to give Travis space.

Travis forced himself to focus on the screen. Moments after the crash, a convoy of sleek black cars pulled up. Men in dark clothing poured out, their movements calculated and swift.

Travis froze as he watched them approach the wreckage. Despite her visible injuries, Den was still conscious, her head moving weakly as they reached her.

Wide-eyed, Travis leaned closer to the screen. The men dragged Den out of the car, her body limp but alive.

And then he heard it. Their voices were clear, as though the audio had been enhanced.

Travis whipped his head toward Stav, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "How is that possible? How can we hear them so clearly?"

Stav hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Sir... it seems the car was bugged. Someone was recording everything that day."

Travis’s fists clenched, his mind racing. This wasn’t just an accident—it was an execution. A carefully orchestrated plan.

"I used some technical assistance to enhance the audio," Stav said quickly, sensing Travis’s growing impatience. "It’s clearer now for you to understand."

Travis nodded stiffly, his gaze snapping back to the screen. As the footage resumed, the sound of Den’s voice rang out, loud and heart-wrenching.

Her scream pierced through him, and his fists clenched tightly as he watched the men grab Den by her hair, yanking her from the wreckage and shoving her violently to the ground.

"Please... please let me go!" she pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. "I have a family to take care of. What have we ever done to deserve this? Please..."

Her words were like daggers to Travis's heart. Den was begging for her life, for mercy, and yet these monsters showed none.

"Please..." Den’s voice cracked. "I have a daughter who needs me... a husband who must be worried about me. Don’t do this!"

One of the men, his face hidden in the shadows, barked a cruel laugh. "Your husband is the reason you’re here. He caused this mess. He’s the reason my father is dead!"

Before Den could respond, he kicked her in the face, sending her collapsing to the ground.

Travis’s hands trembled as he gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white. His rage burned hotter than ever.

On the screen, the man reached into his pocket, pulling out a knife. He crouched down, ready to deliver the final blow.

But the sound of approaching sirens startled them. The men exchanged panicked glances before abandoning Den, retreating into their vehicles and vanishing into the night.

The footage cut to a scene of authorities arriving and carrying Den’s battered body away. Travis didn’t need to see the rest—he knew the ending all too well.

"No!" he roared, his voice shaking with anger and sorrow. "It shouldn’t have happened to her! None of this should’ve happened!"

Slamming his fist into the desk, he turned to Stav, his eyes blazing with fury. "Tell me where that bastard Rick is! I swear I’ll kill him with my bare hands."

"Sir, please calm down," Stav pleaded, stepping forward cautiously.

"Calm down?" Travis spat, his voice rising. "She died because of me. She went through all of that because of me!" His voice broke as he began throwing everything within reach—papers, files, anything to release the storm inside him.

When there was nothing left to throw, he turned his anger on the wall, punching it repeatedly until his knuckles bled.

"Sir!" Stav rushed to him, grabbing his arm. "Please, listen to me. We still need to take this evidence to the police."

"I don’t care!" Travis bellowed, jerking his arm away. "Just tell me where Rick Orleans is. I’ll deal with him myself!"

Stav hesitated before delivering the blow. "Sir... we can’t do anything about Rick Orleans. He’s dead."

The words froze Travis in place. He slowly turned to face Stav, disbelief etched across his face.

"What did you just say?"

"Rick Orleans has been dead for years," Stav explained carefully. "He died not long after Sabrina ma’am reported him. His death was confirmed shortly after his arrest."

Travis staggered back, his mind racing. "Dead? No. He can’t be. I... I had so much to settle with him."

"I know, sir," Stav said sympathetically. "But Rick isn’t the one responsible for all of this."

"Then who?" Travis demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl.

"You may have found the answer in the footage, sir," Stav said cautiously.

Travis’s eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"If you analyze the video closely, sir, you’ll realize who orchestrated this," Stav replied, his voice low but firm.

Travis replayed the scene in his mind, Stav’s words echoing in his ears. A dawning realization swept over him, followed by a wave of white-hot fury.

"I know who did it," Travis hissed, his eyes blazing. "And I’ll make them pay."

Without another word, he stormed out of the room, his body vibrating with rage. He needed to release the fire inside him, to confront the demons that had haunted him since Den’s death.

"Sir! Wait!" Stav called after him, but it was futile. Travis was already gone.

He climbed into his car and slammed the door shut, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The engine roared to life, and he sped off, ignoring every traffic rule in his path.

As he drove, his phone buzzed beside him. His first instinct was to ignore it. He couldn’t face Sabrina right now, not in this state.

But the buzzing persisted, gnawing at his already frayed nerves.

Travis finally answered the phone after its relentless ringing. He glanced at the caller ID and recognized the name—a contact he had been eagerly waiting to hear from.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice sharp, betraying his simmering frustration.

The person on the other end spoke calmly but deliberately, their words dripping with significance. Each sentence felt like a key turning in a lock, opening a door Travis had longed to access.

By the time the call ended, Travis's lips curled into a grim smirk. He knew exactly who to approach now—someone who could help him settle scores once and for all.

Meanwhile, back at the house, Sabrina paced anxiously. Stav had informed her that Travis had been gone for hours without a word, and unease gnawed at her.

Her intuition, sharp as always, whispered that something was off—dangerously off. A deep sense of foreboding weighed on her, as though their lives were about to shift in ways they couldn’t control.

When her phone rang suddenly, she snatched it up, her heart racing. "Travis?" she blurted out before checking the screen. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment when she saw it was an unknown number.

For a moment, she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the answer button. Finally, she took a deep breath and picked up.

“Hello? Am I speaking to Mrs. Sabrina King?” A woman’s voice, cool and professional, came through the line.

“Yes, this is she,” Sabrina replied cautiously.

“Mrs. King, I’m calling to inform you that your husband, Mr. Travis King, has been involved in an accident. Please come to the location I’ve sent to your phone immediately.”

The line went dead before Sabrina could respond.

For a moment, the world seemed to tilt beneath her feet. Her phone buzzed again, this time with a text displaying an address.

_____________________