129. FELIX YEATS (POV)

129. FELIX YEATS (POV)
The sound of my shoes hitting the alley floor mixes with the muffled noise of gunfire inside. Time’s no longer on my side—he managed to drag Isabelle away before I had a chance to save her. I didn’t count on Nox’s ambush. He’s always been a good soldier—I won’t deny that. Facing him with the others was harder than if it had just been me. He’s always been sharp. No wonder he was one of my most trusted men. And the bastard still betrayed me. I still want to find out why.
A few meters ahead, I spot Simon. That fucker is bleeding, shoving Isabelle into the car like she’s a sack of meat and not the damn woman I love. Her hair’s a mess, her body tense, trying to fight him off, but he manages to get into the car right after her. The car peels out, and I don’t wait for it to turn the corner. I move fast, firing at the vehicle, hitting the back window—it shatters. One thing’s clear: the car’s not bulletproof.
My finger squeezes the trigger again, hitting the side of the gun. The third shot whizzes just inches from Simon’s head, and he ducks.
The car veers right, and I lose sight of it in the middle of the other vehicles.
“What the fuck!” I yell, pissed.
I told them—at my hotel, with my entire team—every exit was mapped out, and cameras were in place. And still… he took her. And I have no fucking clue where he’s taking Isabelle.
My fist clenches, the gun still hot against my fingers. My blood’s pounding in my head. I smack the back of the gun against my forehead, trying to force my brain to kick into gear. I need Isabelle’s fucking location.
Tony comes running down the alley, panting, with Phill right behind him.
“We got Nox,” he says. “He’s sedated, not going anywhere, boss.”
I turn to him, my eyes burning with rage.
“Great. I’ll deal with him later. I want all the footage, starting from yesterday—from the fucking moment that bastard set foot here. And if someone sabotaged my system, I’ll find out. No way he pulled all this off with just Nox. No chance went unnoticed. Move it!”
Tony just nods, already speaking into the radio.
No, that’s not enough. None of this matters—because she’s gone. Simon tricked me, ripped her from my arms—and now I’m going to find her. Even if it costs me the whole damn world.
I walk slowly, my footsteps echoing through the emergency corridor. Hotel staff pass by and quickly move out of the way, letting Tony and me through as we head straight to where they’ve got Nox.
I find Phill standing by the staircase that leads down to the basement. The tense look on his face says the rest before he even opens his mouth.
“Tony ordered us to take Nox downstairs,” he mutters, avoiding my eyes.
I bite my tongue to keep control.
“Go help with the footage,” I growl, running my fingers through my hair. “I want the license plate, the direction—everything. Take Roger with you.”
He nods firmly as I keep walking toward the hatch that leads down to the basement. The air down here is cold, damp—the walls alone carry the chill of the place.
“Did Nox say anything when you managed to take him down?” I ask without stopping.
Tony glances at me quickly as he walks beside me.
“He muttered something about the system, but that’s it. I think he’s still under the sedative.”
I take a deep breath and lean my back against the bare wall in the hallway. How the hell did he take her, man? Right under my fucking nose?
On impulse, I pull my phone out of my pocket—so fast I barely feel it. The screen lights up. There’s already a message from Phill, and he only just went to meet Roger.
He’s already started sending me footage—cuts, strategic camera failures, but the exterior footage is still intact. The car’s plate is there. The exit location is recorded.
I open the notification:
“Black car footage, plate YWX 7394, exiting the hotel from the east side. The last checkpoint was recorded near the port district. Sending video now.”
My heart races. The plate confirms it—that’s the car that took Isabelle. I hit play.
On the screen, a dark warehouse. No lights. The car’s still there, its back doors wide open. Simon’s shadow moves across the frame, along with someone carrying a limp figure—Isabelle. She’s completely out, silent. He doesn’t let her go.
A chill runs down my spine, but it’s not fear—it’s rage. The one man who should’ve been protecting her was the one who betrayed her, who kidnapped her. And I’m going to make him pay. But first, I have to get her out of there.
“I’m going,” I grunt to Tony. “Get the men together. Make sure some stay on Nox—he’s still worth more alive.”
He nods, his face fully visible now, focused, ready to move.
“Good,” I say, my voice calm, low, almost ice-cold. “We’re gonna burn them. But first, we get her.” I slip the phone back into my pocket carefully—like I’m holstering a weapon—and head toward the stairs. Every step brings me closer to the cold iron bars of the basement. The fury inside me boils.
“Watch the system,” I mutter. “I want to know who fucked with the cameras. That son of a bitch either knew he was being watched—or rigged it all ahead of time.”
As I cross the hall, something in my chest tightens—a signal. Something’s about to snap for good… or he is. My sharp gaze locks onto the ground-level observation room. Isolated, no exits. No chance for Nox to run. Tony and Phill dragged him there. He will talk. And if he doesn’t…
But before that, there’s one priority: get Isabelle back. And make Simon pay for everything he’s shattered along the way.
The basement is pitch black, except for the narrow beam of light from Tony’s flashlight. Nox is cuffed to a concrete table, his face twisting between sleep and fear. The bruises don’t hide the pain. My men already tried to make him talk, but he refused—said he’d only speak to me.
“Boss…” he whispers, voice cracking. “You don’t need to…”
I step closer. The sound of my boot hitting the floor echoes loudly.
“Don’t need to?” I say, calm, controlled. “Maybe you’d prefer a different kind of torture, huh, Nox? You know when I built all this? When I become the owner of every single piece of it?” I pause, locking eyes with him. “It was for moments exactly like this. For anyone who dared get in my way. For anyone who threatened what’s mine.”
Nox turns his face away, still trying to hold on to some shred of dignity. But his eyes give him away—there’s a fear there I’ve never seen in him before. Not until now.
“I want to know who planted that glitch. Nox, tell me—who disabled the system?”
He tries to hold his head up, but the tremor in his hands makes it clear—he didn’t do his job.
“Simon… Simon knew about the hotel. The camera layout,” he stammers.
“Good.” I deserve more than that. “Then tell me—where did he take Isabelle? I saw he reached the port. And it’s abandoned.”
Silence.
“Son of a bi—” I slam my fist on the table. The sound cracks through the air, heavy and sharp.
Tony stays close but doesn’t step in. He knows what’s coming. But not yet. First, I need answers.
Nox takes a deep breath. His voice barely comes out:
“He… went to that abandoned warehouse near the port. Outside the city. He’s trying to get her out of the country.”
I clench my jaw.
I grab the small blowtorch. I don’t say a word. Just light it. The hiss of the flame against the metal pipe is muffled but still sharp. I bring the flame close to the side of the chair, right near his thigh. It doesn’t touch him—not yet—but the heat starts to seep in. He screams, loud and raw.
“The skin’s thin here. The muscle’ll start to boil if I leave it long enough. So tell me—what country? There are so many, my friend.”
He thrashes, panicking, but the restraints hold.
“Montreal!” he cries out, sobbing. “A house—secluded—on Mount Royal! I swear, that’s all I know!”
I shut off the torch. The silence that follows swallows the sound of Nox’s ragged, painful breathing.
I step closer, lowering myself until I’m eye level with him. He’s soaked in sweat, shaking.
“You should’ve thought this through before you betrayed me. You thought you knew every way I torture—but I hate to break it to you—I’ve got plenty of creative ways to kill you. I just haven’t used them yet, because I still need you alive.”
I stand up and give his shoulder a light squeeze.