56

56
Chapter 56 

Lyon stepped off the plane, barely feeling the ground beneath his feet. The cool breeze brushed his face, but it didn't calm anything he was feeling. 

He pulled his phone out from his pocket, he dialed Martins’ number, his hand trembling slightly. 

“Where are you?” Lyon’s voice was tight, sharp, cutting through the noise of the bustling airport. His eyes darted around, scanning the crowd. 

“Right outside. I’m here.” Martins’ voice was steady but had that edge of urgency. 

Lyon pushed through the throngs of people. 

The noise, the movement, all of it was a blur. He didn’t stop until he spotted Martins near the car, waving with a slight tilt of his head. Without a word, Lyon slid into the passenger seat, the door slamming shut behind him. Martins pulled away from the curb, the tires rolling like they, too, knew there wasn’t time to waste. 

Inside the car, silence hung heavy. Lyon’s mind was racing, the weight of every possible outcome pressing down on him like bricks. His phone buzzed in his hand, the sharp vibration making his chest tighten. He glanced down at the screen. 

“Wendy just stepped out. Her movements are unclear.” 

Lyon’s jaw clenched. “Wendy.” The name was almost a curse under his breath. He didn’t have to say more. Martins glanced sideways at him, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles almost white. 

“Where are we headed?” Martins finally asked, his voice low, almost cautious. 

Lyon stared straight ahead, his gaze hard as stone. “The old warehouse,” he muttered. 

Martins gave a quick nod, his foot pressing down on the gas pedal. The car surged forward, cutting through the streets like a knife. 

The world outside turned into a blur of lights and shadows, but Lyon didn’t see it. 

His thoughts were a mess, Kathryn’s face flickered in his mind, her voice, her smile. He didn’t let himself linger on the worst possibilities. Not yet. He couldn’t. 

“You really think she’ll be there?” Martins asked quietly after a while, breaking the silence. 

Lyon turned to him, his expression unreadable. “It’s where she’d want me to be,” he replied. “Wendy knows how to play her games.” 

That was the truth of it, Wendy was always a step ahead. Always two moves into the future while everyone else scrambled to catch up. Lyon had played into her hands before, but not this time. Not again. 

The drive stretched on, tense and silent, the hum of the car the only sound between them. Lyon’s phone buzzed again, but he didn’t check it. Instead, his hand curled around it, like holding it tightly would somehow steady the chaos inside him. 

Finally, Martins pulled the car into a hidden corner near the outskirts of the city. The warehouse loomed ahead. 

The place looked forgotten by time, crumbling at the edges, but Lyon knew better. 

Martins killed the engine, and the two men sat there for a moment, staring at the darkened building. The quiet buzz of insects outside and the distant hum of cars on the main road felt surreal compared to the storm Lyon felt building inside. 

“Are you ready?” Martins asked, his voice soft. 

Lyon exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling with a weight that words couldn’t describe. “I don’t have a choice.” 

Martins nodded, understanding more than Lyon said. 

Lyon and Martins moved quietly, every step careful as they crept toward the warehouse. 

The place looked abandoned, but they both knew better. The rusted building loomed large in the fading daylight. 

Lyon stopped first, pressing his back to the wall as he signaled Martins to halt. The tension was thick, the kind of silence that made every little noise sound ten times louder. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, glancing quickly at the screen before dialing a number. 

“Take cover. Stay alert. If anything moves, don’t hesitate,” Lyon whispered low into the phone, the weight of his words hanging there. He didn’t wait for much of a response before ending the call and sliding the phone back into his jacket pocket. 

Martins watched him closely, sensing the fire brewing just beneath Lyon’s calm. He’d seen that look before, focused, dangerous. 

“Martins,” Lyon murmured, his voice quiet but clear, “you’re going around back. Look for a way in. A window, a side door, anything. Be careful.” 

Martins nodded but frowned slightly. “What about you?” 

Lyon didn’t answer right away. He glanced toward the warehouse, his face set. “This is what Wendy wants,” he finally said. “She wants me to come to her. Fine. I’m going to give her what she’s been waiting for.” 

Martins hesitated. “Lyon, that's risky, you…” 

“I know what I’m doing,” Lyon cut him off, though his tone wasn’t harsh. “Trust me.” 

There wasn’t much else to say. Martins let out a deep breath, understanding the unspoken words. This wasn’t just about pride or some petty fight, this was about Kathryn. And when it came to her, Lyon would risk it all. 

“Be safe,” Martins muttered, his voice low but genuine. 

Lyon gave him a nod. “You too.” 

With that, Martins slipped off into the shadows, moving quickly but silently toward the back of the building. Lyon watched him go until he vanished into the growing dark. Then, he turned his attention back to the warehouse. 

He stood still for a moment, listening. The place was quiet, but Lyon didn’t trust it. Wendy was cunning, she wouldn’t make it easy. 

His jaw tightened as he glanced up at the towering metal structure. His chest burned with the need to move, but he forced himself to stay calm, his breathing steady. 

He thought of Kathryn. The look in her eyes the last time he saw her, the fear she must be feeling now, it pushed him forward. 

Lyon moved along the side of the warehouse, his steps light. The building was a mess, not lighted but secured. He ran his hand lightly against the cold metal as he moved, his ears straining for any sound, voices, movement, anything. 

When he reached the main door, he paused. His hand hovered over the handle, but something didn’t sit right. He leaned closer, pressing his ear to the door, and there it was, the faint sound of shuffling inside, maybe footsteps. Someone was in there, waiting. 

Wendy. 

He let go of the handle, stepping back carefully. Charging in without a plan wasn’t an option, not with Wendy. She’d set this up, of course she had. She was expecting him. This wasn’t just a trap; it was her game. 

Lyon’s eyes darted to the side, checking the shadows where Martins had disappeared. He needed time, time for Martins to get inside, time to figure out what was happening. Lyon could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, so overwhelming. 

But there was no turning back. Not now. 

He clenched his jaw, taking another step toward the door, his eyes sharp and focused. Wendy wanted a face-to-face? She was going to get one. 

For Kathryn, he'd do anything. 

Lyon pressed his ear to the cold metal door, holding his breath as he strained to hear. Nothing. Not a single sound. 

Wendy’s traps were always layered with tricks, there was no way she’d make this easy for him. 

He tightened his grip on the handle and pushed the door open slowly, the creak of the hinges slicing through the quiet house. Every nerve in his body was on high alert as he slipped inside. The place was dark and smelled like rust, old wood, and oil, like a forgotten place left to rot. 

Lyon’s sharp gaze scanned the space. 

The warehouse stretched on and on, its walls lined with old, unused equipment and broken crates. Long, dark hallways, each doorway was a question without an answer. Lyon’s chest tightened. 

How the hell am I supposed to find her in a place as this? 

Then, a faint noise. A soft creak, almost like footsteps. 

Lyon froze, his ears straining. 

He shifted his gaze upward, toward a narrow staircase at the far end of the room. The faintest beam of light cut through the dark, and that’s when he saw him, a man at the top of the stairs. 

Lyon pressed himself against the wall, disappearing into the shadows as the man descended. The guy was big, his boots thudding against the steps with weight and confidence. He scanned the room lazily, unaware that Lyon was already watching him, waiting. 

As the man passed, Lyon moved, quick and silent, slipping behind stacks of rusted barrels. He kept low, his heart hammering in his chest as he followed, never letting the man out of his sight. Every few steps, Lyon ducked behind something, an old crate, a machine, until the man finally stopped at a heavy wooden door. 

The man glanced over his shoulder, then slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. 

Lyon pressed his back against the wall, exhaling carefully through his nose, trying to calm his pulse. 

Kathryn’s in there. She had to be. 

But before Lyon could make his move, a sound floated through the air, soft, broken, and unmistakable. 

A sob. 

Lyon’s heart dropped. His breath hitched as he turned his head, straining to listen. It wasn’t coming from the room the man had entered, it was somewhere else, farther down the corridor. 

“No,” Lyon muttered under his breath, his teeth gritting. He knew that voice. 

Kathryn. 

The sob came again, louder this time, like it was spilling from behind one of the other doors, muffled but real. Alive. 

He pushed off the wall, fists tightening as he moved, his steps quicker now but still cautious. His gaze flicked to every corner, every shadow, ready for anything, ready for anyone. 

“Hold on,” Lyon murmured under his breath, his voice low and rough. “I’m coming.” 

Just then the sob died down. 

Lyon’s entire body tensed when Kathryn’s sobbing stopped. The sound had been faint, but now the silence was deafening, clawing at him with invisible hands. His heart hammered so hard he swore it would give him away. 

Come on, Kathryn… he begged in his mind, holding his breath. 

Then it came again, a soft, muffled sob, like someone trying not to be heard. His heart jolted in his chest. She’s here. He didn’t need to see her to know; he felt it. The thought alone pushed him forward. 

The hallway stretched ahead, dim and uneven, like something from a nightmare. He didn’t know where Wendy’s men were or if they were watching, but right now, that didn’t matter. Kathryn was close, too close to stop. 

He reached the door. His hand tightened into a fist for a second, hesitating on the knob. What if she’s not in there? What if this was another one of Wendy’s twisted games? 

He pushed that doubt down. He had no time for it. 

Lyon turned the knob carefully, pushing the door open just enough to see inside. The room was dim, with only a sliver of light. His chest tightened when he saw her. 

“Kathryn.” The word slipped out before he could stop himself. 

Across the room, Kathryn’s head shot up. Her eyes,red, swollen, and filled with tears,locked on him, wide with disbelief. 

“Lyon?” Her voice cracked. 

Lyon swallowed hard, his throat thick, every ounce of anger and guilt growing inside him like a storm. 

Seeing her like this, tied to a chair, bruised, her cheeks streaked with tears, was almost too much. 

“I’m here,” he said quietly, stepping fully into the room. His tone was steady, but something flickered behind his words, a promise. He shut the door carefully, his eyes scanning the space to make sure they were alone. 

Kathryn just stared at him, her lips trembling, fresh tears spilling over as if she couldn’t believe he was real. “I… I thought…” 

“You’re okay now,” Lyon cut in softly, crouching in front of her. “I’m getting you out of here.”