Blood Trail

Blood Trail
Damian’s POV

My boots echoed against the concrete as I stepped in, gun raised, eyes cutting through the dark. A single bulb flickered from somewhere high above, throwing long, broken shadows across the floor.
The smell hit first—metal, oil, and something else. Blood. Old, but fresh enough to sting the back of my throat.
They’d been here.
My pulse slowed. Not from calm, but from control. The kind that comes before the kill.
I moved deeper, past rusted machinery and broken crates. My flashlight beam sliced through dust, tracing marks on the floor—drag lines, faint smears of something dark.
Then I saw it.
A rope. Torn. Blood-stained.
And beside it, a single gold earring glinted under the light.
Isla’s.
For a moment, the world narrowed to that small, shining thing. The noise in my head stopped. Then came back louder than before.
They hurt her.
They tied her up.
They made her bleed.
I knelt, picked up the earring, and closed my fist around it until I felt the edge dig into my skin.
She was here.
My radio buzzed. Cassian’s voice came through the static.
“Units closing in from the west. You got eyes on anything?”
“Just ghosts,” I muttered.
“Careful, boss. Could be a setup.”
I cut the line.
The floor creaked behind me. A sound too heavy to be the wind.
I turned.
Three men stepped out from the shadows, rifles raised, eyes wild beneath their masks. Crimson Jackals.
The one in front smirked. “You must be Cross.”
My gun was already up. “You shouldn’t have said my name.”
The next second exploded—muzzle flash, gunfire, shouts.
I dropped low, rolled behind a column as bullets ripped through the air. Concrete dust stung my eyes. I waited—counted heartbeats—then came out firing.
Two shots. Two men down.
The third ducked behind a crate, screaming something I didn’t understand.
I moved fast, silent. His footsteps gave him away. When he came around the corner, I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall so hard the plaster cracked.
His rifle clattered to the floor.
“Where is she?” I growled.
He spat blood, trembling. “You’re too late.”
Wrong answer.
I tightened my grip until his eyes bulged. “Try again.”
“She’s gone,” he gasped. “Moved her. Boss said not to—”
“Where?”
He hesitated—big mistake.
I drove him back into the wall again. “Where?”
“North,” he choked out. “Old motel… near the highway… we— we were told to clear out after she screamed.”
My hand eased just enough for him to breathe. “Who gave the order?”
“Jace,” he whispered. “He—”
A gunshot split the air. The man jerked, eyes wide, a red bloom spreading across his chest.
I dropped him before he could finish falling.
From the far end of the warehouse, another voice called out. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Cross.”
A shadow stood near the open door—another Jackal, retreating fast, already disappearing into the dark.
I fired twice.
Missed.
He was gone.
Silence again.
I looked down at the man bleeding out at my feet. His lips moved once more, soundless. Then nothing.
The echo of the shot lingered in the rafters, rolling through the space like a storm that refused to die.
I holstered my gun and wiped the blood off my hands. My pulse was still hammering, but the rage had cooled to something sharper. Focus.
The earring glimmered between my fingers again. I slid it into my pocket and scanned the room once more.
Near the corner, a phone. Burned, smashed, but not destroyed. I crouched and picked it up. A burner. Still faintly warm.
I handed it off when Cassian came in with two of our men, breathless.
“Jesus,” he muttered, looking around. “You couldn’t wait five minutes?”
“They ambushed first,” I said flatly. “Three down. One got away.”
Cassian frowned. “We’ll sweep the perimeter.”
“Don’t bother,” I said. “They’re moving her north. Jace gave the order.”
Cassian stiffened. “Jace… the lieutenant? The one we thought was dead?”
“He’s not,” I said. “And he’s leading them.”
Cassian cursed under his breath.
I looked around again, scanning every inch for a clue, anything that could tell me where they were taking her.
And then I saw it—spray-paint on the wall, faint and hurried—a symbol.
A jackal’s skull, painted in red.
Below it, a word: Haven.
Cassian noticed it too. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I knew.
Their safehouse.
The one they used before I wiped them out three years ago.
I exhaled slowly. “It means they’re running back to where it all started.”
Cassian’s face tightened. “That place is a fortress.”
“Then I’ll burn it down.”
He looked at me like he wanted to argue, but didn’t. He knew better.
One of my men handed me the dead Jackal’s wallet. Inside—an access card, black, embossed with the same red skull. Coordinates scrawled on the back.
North. Near the old highway. Exactly where the dying man said.
I slipped it into my jacket. “We move now.”
Cassian blinked. “You haven’t slept in forty-eight hours.”
“Neither has she.”
He didn’t answer.
I started toward the exit, the cold air rushing in from outside. The docks stretched out beyond the warehouse, endless shadows against the water. Somewhere out there, a truck had carried her away while I was still breaking that phone.
Every second replayed in my mind. Her voice. The scream. The silence.
I clenched my jaw.
No more silence.
Cassian caught up, matching my stride. “You really think she’s still alive?”
I stopped. Turned to him.
“She called me,” I said. “That means she fought.”
I met his eyes. “She’s alive. Until I see proof otherwise, she’s alive.”
Cassian nodded once. “Then we find her.”
I slid into the car, tossed the gun onto the seat, and started the engine. The roar of it filled the night.
Headlights cut through the fog as we pulled away from the docks. Behind us, the warehouse burned—my men had set it alight before we left. No evidence. No second chances.
Flames licked the metal walls, rising high, painting the sky orange.
Cassian looked back once. “You really think that’s necessary?”
“Yes.”
He said nothing after that.
The city blurred past in streaks of light and rain. My mind wasn’t on the road. It was on her. On every breath, she might be fighting for. On every hand that had dared touch her.
I could still taste iron on my tongue. Still feel the pulse in my hands.
Somewhere ahead, Jace was waiting.
And with him, Isla.
He thought he could use her to break me.
He had no idea he’d just guaranteed his own death.
I pressed harder on the gas, the engine screaming as the car surged forward.
Hold on, Isla.
I’m coming.