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The news had spread fast—too fast. By morning, smoke still curled over the city skyline where one of Dante’s company branches used to stand, reduced to a skeleton of charred steel and ash. The world saw an unfortunate accident. But somewhere miles away, Damien sat in a dimly lit room, the glow from the flames on his phone screen reflected in his eyes.

He leaned back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers, lips curling into a grim smile. “Looks like the message got through,” he muttered under his breath.

A man across from him—a figure cloaked in the shadows—nodded once. “No survivors. Everything went as planned.”

“Good,” Damien said, exhaling smoke slowly. “Let Dante taste loss for once. Let him feel what it’s like to have everything burn.”

The man hesitated. “You’re sure about this? He’ll know it was you.”

Damien’s gaze hardened, voice dropping to a low growl. “That’s the point.”

He crushed the cigarette against the table, the ash scattering like gray snow. “Dante’s taken everything that should’ve been mine—Aria, power, legacy. I warned him once.” He leaned forward, his expression dark and cold. “Now I’m done warning.”

Outside, thunder rolled over the horizon, a storm building as if in answer to his rage. Damien’s phone buzzed again—a text from an unknown number:

“It’s done. Phase two?”

His lips twitched into something halfway between a smile and a snarl. “Not yet,” he murmured. “Let him breathe… just enough to think he’s safe.”

He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked toward the window, staring out into the dark city lights below.

“Then,” he whispered, eyes glinting, “we finish what started five years ago.”

Mandy’s wrists ached from the cuffs, her pulse thudding wildly against metal. The room smelled of bleach and stale air — too clean, too quiet. She’d been awake for hours, watching the shadows under the door, waiting for a sound… a chance.

When the flicker of footsteps finally echoed down the hall, she froze — breath held. The moment the noise faded, she twisted her hands, ignoring the pain as the metal scraped her skin raw. The cuff on her right wrist gave the faintest click. Her heart leapt.

“Come on,” she whispered to herself, tugging harder. “Come on…”

A sharp sting tore through her hand, but then—freedom. The cuff slipped loose. Mandy didn’t hesitate. She yanked her other wrist free and stumbled off the bed, legs weak from days of stillness. Her bare feet hit the cold floor as she darted to the door, testing the knob. Locked.

Her eyes darted around the room — and then she saw it: a small tray of medical tools left behind on a cart. She grabbed one — a thin metal pin — and dropped to her knees, working the lock with trembling fingers.

Every tick of the clock on the wall felt like thunder. Every breath, a risk. Then, with a faint click, the door gave way.

Mandy slipped into the hallway, the dim fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The corridor stretched long and empty, lined with doors identical to the one she’d just escaped. She didn’t know where she was, only that the air smelled like disinfectant and salt — somewhere near the sea, maybe.

She crept forward, heartbeat drumming in her ears.

Then came a sound — a voice, low and familiar.

“Mandy…”

She froze. Her skin went cold.

The memory wouldn’t stop replaying — Jess’s scream echoing in the dark, the blur of hands dragging her into the van, the way Aria had stood frozen, heart pounding so hard she could barely breathe. It haunted her every time she blinked.

Now, days later, Aria sat on the edge of her bed, the same clothes from that night still tucked in the corner of her closet — as if washing them would erase what she’d seen. She hadn’t told anyone. Not even the police. Not yet. Because something about the whole thing felt… wrong. The men who took Jess didn’t look like strangers. They moved like soldiers. Like people who knew exactly who they were after.

Aria gripped the small silver pendant Jess had dropped during the struggle — she’d found it lying on the pavement after the van sped away. Inside, hidden under the locket’s delicate frame, was a small folded note.

It read only one thing:

“If I disappear — don’t trust him.”

Her stomach twisted as she read it again. Who was him?

A cold shiver ran down her spine as she stood, slipping the pendant into her pocket. She didn’t have proof. She didn’t even have a lead. But she had a feeling — the kind that gnawed at her bones and refused to quiet down.

She grabbed her keys. “Hang on, Jess,” she whispered. “I’m going to find you.”