Chapter 163

Willow's POV

The industrial complex loomed before us like a concrete graveyard, abandoned buildings scattered across the property like forgotten tombstones. Damian killed the headlights as we approached, pulling behind a stack of shipping containers to conceal the car.

My phone screen glowed in the darkness, illuminating the text message I'd received at the burning remains of Sunset Lounge: "If you want to see Carlos alive, come alone to 37400 Winston Street, warehouse 8. You have TWO HOURS. Tell anyone, bring anyone, or be late - she dies. The clock is ticking, Willow." The attached photo of Carlos, bound and bleeding, made my stomach clench.

"That's warehouse 8," I whispered, pointing to the largest building where a faint light flickered behind grimy windows. "We have twenty minutes left."

Damian nodded, his face impossible to read in the darkness. "Sam checked the satellite imagery. There are three main entrances—front, back, and a loading bay on the east side."

I pulled out my phone, looking again at the message that had arrived an hour and forty minutes ago: a photo of Carlos tied to a chair, bruised and terrified, with an address and a simple instruction. My stomach clenched at the memory of her frightened eyes.

"She's in there," I said, more to myself than to Damian. "And Chloe's waiting for me."

Damian reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out what looked like a small button. "This is a communication device. Put it in your ear—I'll be able to hear everything that happens inside."

I took it, carefully fitting it into my ear canal. It was nearly invisible once in place.

"Test," Damian said quietly.

His voice came through clearly, as if he were speaking directly into my mind. I nodded.

"Good." He handed me a small canister. "Pepper spray. Last resort."

"What's the plan?" I asked, tucking it into my pocket.

"You go in first, through the front entrance. Follow Chloe's instructions—she needs to believe you're alone and compliant." His jaw tightened. "I'll find a position near the east entrance. If things go wrong, say 'remember Carlos' and I'll move in with Sam's team."

"And Carlos?"

"Her safety is the priority," Damian confirmed. "No matter what happens."

I nodded, then hesitated. "What if... what if Chloe doesn't want to negotiate?"

Damian's eyes met mine, hard and determined. "Then we take her down before she can hurt either of you."

I took a deep breath and opened the car door. The cool night air hit my face, bringing with it the smell of rust and abandonment. Before I could step out, Damian caught my wrist.

"Willow." His voice was low, almost vulnerable. "Be careful."

I squeezed his hand once, then slipped out of the car. As I walked toward the warehouse, every step seemed to echo in the empty lot. My mind flashed back to the burning ruins of Sunset Lounge, to Carlos's absence, to the cold dismissal I'd given Beckeet when he tried to warn me. Now I was walking into the trap Chloe had set, hoping I wasn't too late.

The front entrance was a massive sliding door, partially open. I paused, listening for any sound from inside. Hearing nothing, I slipped through the gap and into the darkness beyond.

The interior was vast and hollow, with high ceilings lost in shadow. A few industrial lights hung from chains, creating pools of sickly yellow illumination in the otherwise black space. Dust motes danced in the light beams. The air smelled of mildew and something metallic—something that might have been blood.

"Hello?" I called, my voice echoing. "I'm here, Chloe. I came alone, just like you asked."

Silence. Then a slow, deliberate clapping sound.

"Bravo, sister. You actually followed instructions for once."

Chloe stepped into one of the light pools about thirty feet ahead of me. She looked immaculate as always—designer jeans, silk blouse, not a hair out of place. The only thing marring her perfect appearance was the gun in her right hand.

"Where's Carlos?" I demanded, fighting to keep my voice steady.

Chloe smiled, gesturing with her free hand. "Right where I promised she'd be."

A second light flickered on, illuminating a figure slumped in a chair. Carlos. Her head hung forward, her usually vibrant face was swollen and bruised. But I could see her chest moving—she was alive.

"Let her go," I said, taking a step forward. "This is between us, Chloe. She has nothing to do with it."

"Oh, but she does." Chloe moved closer to Carlos, running the barrel of her gun along my friend's cheek. "Everyone has a part to play in this little drama. Carlos is your weakness—just like Damian is mine."

"I came alone, like you asked. Now let her go."

Chloe laughed, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls. "You know, for someone with my face, you can be remarkably stupid sometimes. This isn't a hostage exchange, Willow. It's an execution."

Carlos suddenly jerked in her restraints, her eyes flying open. She looked at me in horror, shaking her head violently against the gag in her mouth.

"Mmph! MMPH!"

"Oh, look who's awake." Chloe pressed the gun harder against Carlos's temple. "Just in time to watch the show."

"What do you want, Chloe?" I asked, trying to buy time. In my ear, I could hear Damian's steady breathing. He was listening. Help was coming.

"What do I want?" Chloe's perfect features contorted with rage. "I want my life back! The life you stole from me the moment we were born!"

"I didn't steal anything from you," I countered. "You had everything—loving parents, wealth, education. I was the one who was thrown away."

"And yet somehow you're the one who keeps getting everything!" she spat. "Damian was supposed to be mine. Blackwood Global was supposed to be mine. But you show up with your pathetic sob story and your strip-girl charm, and suddenly everyone forgets who really matters!"

Carlos was still struggling against her restraints, trying desperately to communicate something to me. Her eyes kept darting to the shadows behind Chloe.

"You can't blame me for your failures," I said, keeping Chloe's attention on me. "Damian never wanted you because he saw through your act. Everyone does, eventually."

Chloe's face flushed with anger. "Shut up! You don't know anything about Damian and me!"

"I know he's too smart to fall for your manipulations," I pressed. "I know your own father cut you off because he finally saw what you really are."

With a scream of rage, Chloe swung her gun away from Carlos and struck her across the face with it. Carlos's head snapped to the side, her body going limp.

"Carlos!" I lunged forward instinctively.

"Stop right there!" Chloe aimed the gun at me. "One more step and I'll put a bullet in your pretty face."

I froze, heart hammering in my chest.

"That's better." Chloe smiled, composing herself with visible effort. "Now, kneel."

"What?"

"You heard me. On your knees, sister." Her smile widened. "I want you to beg for your life before I take it."

Slowly, I lowered myself to my knees, mind racing. Where was Damian? What was happening outside?

"Good girl," Chloe said, stepping closer. "Any last words before we find out if twins really do feel each other's pain?"

I looked up at her—at my own face twisted by hatred—and closed my eyes.

"Remember Carlos," I whispered.