Chapter 67

**Matthew’s POV**

The flashing police lights bounced off the glass windows of the restaurant, painting the street in an eerie mix of red and blue, as officers moved with an urgency that still felt too slow—too inefficient compared to the fire burning inside my chest.

I didn’t have time for protocols, standard procedures, or the sluggish pace of law enforcement.

I didn’t have time for bullshit.

Heizel had been taken.

Not missing. Not lost. Taken. By force. By someone who had planned for this, waited for the right moment, and executed their move flawlessly while I had been wasting time doing nothing.

The realization burned through me like gasoline on an open flame.

“Matthew.”

Taylor’s voice cut through the haze of anger settling in my mind, snapping me back into focus as I turned to where he was standing, his expression tighter than usual, his body stiff with the same tension coiling in my own muscles.

He stood beside Captain O’Malley, the man technically in charge of this investigation, though both he and I knew that title meant absolutely nothing the second I stepped onto this scene.

O’Malley wasn’t a fool. He had been in this city long enough to understand how things worked behind the curtain, how power wasn’t measured by a badge or a rank but by the weight of the name you carried—and mine carried more weight than his ever could.

I stalked toward them, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides, my pulse hammering against my ribs with each step. I was seconds away from losing my patience.

“Tell me you have something.” My voice was sharp, a blade sliding between words, cutting through any potential excuses before they could even form.

Taylor answered first, his tone clipped, efficient. “They’ve pulled security footage and are working on identifying the vehicle used in the abduction, trying to track its route through the city.”

I shifted my gaze to O’Malley, waiting for him to say something useful, but when the hesitation flickered across his face, a muscle in my jaw twitched.

He was debating how much to say.

I stepped closer, invading his space, forcing him to acknowledge the shift in power. “And?”

The older man exhaled slowly, pressing his lips into a tight line before finally muttering, “We’ll alert all units as soon as we confirm the vehicle’s plates.”

That wasn’t good enough.

I let out a slow breath, willing myself to keep control, but the fire in my chest refused to settle. I took another step forward, lowering my voice just enough that only he could hear me, my words deliberate.

“You and I both know how this works, Captain,” I murmured, my gaze pinning him to the spot. “You can keep following the rules, filling out your paperwork, filing your reports, and wasting time—or you can step aside and let the people who actually get results handle it.”

O’Malley’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his shoulders tightening like he was fighting the instinct to argue back, but we both knew the truth—he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because the last time ESS Group wanted someone found, they found them.

And when we found people, they didn’t always come back alive.

After a long, tense moment, he exhaled, glancing at the officers working behind him before finally conceding. “Fine. We’ll listen in.”

Good.

Without another word, I turned to Taylor, my decision already made.

“We’re going,” I said, and I didn’t need to look back to know that O’Malley wouldn’t be standing in our way.

**The Crime Scene – The Last Place She Was**

The air inside the restaurant felt different, like it had been permanently altered by what had taken place here, as if the walls themselves had absorbed the violence and were still humming with the aftershocks of it.

The usually pristine interior of Blue Moon was destroyed.

Tables were overturned, broken glass glittered across the floor, blood had been smeared on the counter—a dark, damning stain against the polished surface Heizel had worked so hard to perfect.

I clenched my fists so tightly that I could feel the sharp sting of my nails biting into my palms, but it wasn’t enough to dull the storm surging inside me.

“She was here,” I muttered under my breath, the words barely audible, but heavy enough to make Taylor glance at me.

“She fought,” he said, gesturing toward the overturned chairs, the broken bottles, the blood.

I already knew that. Of course, Heizel had fought.

“She should’ve never had to,” I muttered, my voice thick with the kind of rage that settled deep in your bones, the kind that didn’t fade—it only grew.

“Where’s Reggie?” I asked, my voice like steel, sharp and unforgiving.

One of the officers standing nearby responded, his tone carefully neutral, like he was worried about saying the wrong thing. “He’s in critical condition. Took a serious beating. But… they weren’t trying to kill him. Just to take her.”

Just to take her.

Before the rage could fully take hold, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out.

A message.

Unknown Number: I’ve got information on the Hills family. Meet me at the usual spot.

I lifted my gaze to Taylor, my voice even.

“We have a lead.”

Taylor didn’t hesitate. “Then let’s move.”

**The Underworld Meeting – A Dangerous Truth**

The bar was a hole in the wall, reeking of stale whiskey, unwashed bodies, and quiet desperation.

The second Taylor and I stepped inside, the air shifted.

Conversations lowered.

People pretended not to notice us.

At the back booth, my contact sat with a glass of bourbon, his fingers tapping idly against the rim.

“Matthew. Taylor. Damn, should I be worried?”

Taylor smirked, sliding into the seat across from him. “That depends. Do you have useful information, or are we wasting our time?”

The man chuckled. “Alright, straight to business.” He leaned in. “The Hills family is making moves. Big ones.”

I kept my face blank. “Meaning?”

“They have a lot of enemies. If Heizel’s involved, it’s not about money.” He swirled his drink. “Someone wants to make a statement.”

I clenched my jaw. “Where is she?”

The man hesitated, lowering his voice. “Warehouse. East end of the city.”

I stood. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

Taylor threw some cash on the table. “For your funeral,” he joked before following me out.

The SUV roared to life as Taylor reached under his seat, retrieving a matte black pistol, checking the chamber, then flipping open the hidden compartment for a rifle.

“You ready for this?” he asked.

I pressed harder on the gas.

“They won’t be.”