Chapter 30 – The First Night of the Hunt
Night had fallen completely over the city, tinging the streets with shadows and silence. The wind blew coldly, as if the city itself knew something terrible was happening. Alexander and Dante walked side by side, but the air between them was as heavy as the surrounding climate.
They weren't friends. Never had been. In fact, the rivalry between them had always been as natural as breathing. But now, with Isabella missing, even that rivalry seemed small compared to the danger surrounding her.
Alexander adjusted his tie, his expression somber, as if he were preparing his mind for war.
"We need a starting point," he said, his voice firm. "The apartment didn't give us anything, but maybe he left traces elsewhere."
Dante smiled at the corner of his mouth, though humorlessly.
"A clever stalker doesn't leave traces. But he always leaves provocations. And you know that."
Alexander stared at him, his eyes cold as ice.
"So what do you suggest? That we just stand there, waiting for him to give us another clue?"
"I suggest we look where he likes to work most: her mind." Dante stepped closer, staring closely at Alexander. "This guy isn't just following Isabella. He's playing with her. Manipulating her. I bet she was lured with some promise."
Alexander looked away, remembering the name that echoed in his own nightmares: Helena.
He didn't dare say it aloud, but he knew. If this man was stirring up past wounds, Isabella had been drawn into a much darker game.
It was past nine o'clock when they returned to Dante's car. The engine roared, and the car sped through streets lit only by scattered streetlights. The city seemed different at night: hostile, almost predatory.
"Where to?" Dante asked, keeping his eyes on the road.
Alexander thought for a moment.
"The café," he said decisively. "That's where he showed up last time. Maybe he left something."
Dante chuckled softly.
"You always were the logical type. Café House, then."
When they arrived, the place was nearly empty. Just a few scattered customers, students, and couples who seemed oblivious to the tension between them. The smell of burnt coffee permeated the air, bringing back uncomfortable memories of their last public fight in front of Isabella.
Alexander walked to the table where they usually sat, his eyes sweeping every detail of the place. Dante, as always, chose to act less conventionally: he approached the waiter.
"Hey, partner," he said, discreetly pulling a bill from his pocket. "Did you see Isabella around here yesterday?"
The young man hesitated, looking around, before accepting the money.
"Yes... she did. She was nervous, constantly looking back. Then... she left in a hurry, as if someone was waiting for her outside."
Alexander approached quickly.
"Who were you waiting for?"
The waiter swallowed.
"I don't know... I couldn't see his face. But... he was wearing a hood."
The confirmation made Alexander's stomach churn. The stalker had indeed come to get her.
Dante and Alexander exchanged glances. For the first time, without irony, without a mask. Just the certainty that they were late.
They hurried out of the café, the night wind whipping at them both. Alexander adjusted his overcoat and took a deep breath.
"This bastard is challenging us. He wants us to follow him, to play his game."
Dante lit a cigarette, inhaling slowly, as if he needed the gesture to organize his thoughts.
"And isn't that exactly what we're going to do?"
Alexander frowned.
"If we play his game, we play by his rules. It could cost Isabella her life."
"And if we don't?" Dante blew smoke into the cold air. "He already has Isabella, Alexander. She's already on the board. We have no choice."
Alexander closed his eyes for a moment, feeling helplessness burn inside him. He hated being right, and he hated it even more when Dante was right.
It was at that moment that Alexander's cell phone vibrated. He answered quickly, but there was no voice on the other end. Only slow, drawn-out breathing.
"Who is it?" Alexander asked, his voice firm.
A moment's silence. Then, a distorted voice rang out, low, almost whispered:
"They're looking for Isabella... but she doesn't want to be found."
Alexander felt his blood run cold.
"Damn you. What did you do to her?"
The stalker laughed on the other end. A slow, disturbing laugh.
"She's learning the truth. A truth you never had the courage to tell."
Dante snatched the phone from Alexander's hand and shouted:
"Where is she, you coward?"
But the line had already gone dead.
The silence that followed was deafening. Alexander clenched his fists in fury, while Dante violently crushed his cigarette on the ground.
"He's having fun with this," Alexander said, his eyes cold. "He wants to see us running in circles."
"Then we'll run in circles until we catch this bastard," Dante retorted. "We can't stop now."
Alexander took a deep breath, trying to control his anger.
"We need to trace this call."
"I've thought about it." Dante picked up his cell phone, dialing a contact. After a few minutes of quick conversation, he hung up. "My police officer will trace the number. But don't expect anything simple. This guy is good at covering his tracks."
Alexander turned to the street, looking out at the vastness of the night city.
"Then we need to be better."
The next few hours were consumed by tracking attempts, quick consultations, and intense discussions. Alexander and Dante, side by side, formed an unlikely but necessary duo. Each with their own style: Alexander calculating, rational; Dante impulsive, instinctive.
But they both had something in common: Isabella.
She was the link that held them together, albeit by fragile and temporary threads.
As the clock struck nearly midnight, Dante's cell phone vibrated with a message. He opened it quickly, and his eyes narrowed.
"We got something," he said, showing the screen to Alexander. "The number was traced to an abandoned building… near downtown."
Alexander felt his heart race.
"So that's where we start the hunt."
The car drove on through the early morning, the deserted streets reflecting the growing tension inside. The abandoned building loomed ahead, imposing and somber, like a forgotten scar in the middle of the city.
The broken windows and graffiti-covered facade made it the perfect setting for what they were searching for.
Alexander turned off the car and faced Dante.
"From here on, any misstep could cost her her life."
Dante gave a bitter smile.
"I never thought I'd agree with you. But yes, it's time for us to play for real."
They both got out of the car, the night swallowing them in silence. The cold wind howled between the abandoned structures, and each footstep echoed like a warning.
Alexander and Dante were ready. Not by choice, but by necessity.
Because somewhere within that dark game, Isabella was waiting.
And they wouldn't stop until they found her.