The silence inside the SUV was suffocating.
I clutched my phone so tightly my fingers hurt, my mind racing from what I'd just seen. My father — alive, bruised, bloodied… and calling my name. After fifteen years of nothing, not a word, not a trace. And now this.
"Damian," I whispered, my voice breaking. "They have him."
He didn't even ask what I meant. One look at my face told him everything. He reached for my phone, his jaw set like stone as he replayed the video.
I saw his hand tighten around the steering wheel.
"This changes everything," he muttered.
Charlotte, seated beside me in the back, was scared. "They're making a move. Vaughn's people… they wouldn't risk showing their hand unless they were desperate."
I looked between them, the muscles of my stomach twisting. "We have to find him."
Damian shook his head. "Not without a plan. Rushing in now would get both of you killed."
"I don't care!" I snapped, the anger rising in my throat. "He's my father. I've spent half my life not knowing if he was dead, if he left us… I can't just sit and wait!"
He turned in his seat, meeting my gaze — and for the first time, his carefully built walls cracked. I saw the fear in his eyes. Not for himself, but for me.
"Ava," he said quietly, "this isn't a negotiation. If you get caught, they won't use you to bargain. They'll make an example out of you."
I hated that he was right. Hated how his words made the logical part of me back down even though my heart was screaming.
Charlotte's phone lightened up. She became scared even further.
"What now?" Damian demanded.
She handed him the screen.
A message.
An address.
Tonight.
And a warning: Come alone, or she dies.
"Who is 'she'?" I asked, my chest throbbing.
Charlotte's lips pressed into a thin line. "It's Olivia."
"Who's Olivia?"
Charlotte hesitated, then glanced at Damian.
He sighed. "She was your father's informant, one of Vaughn's people. She defected years ago, went underground. She's the only one who might know where they're keeping your dad."
"And now they have her," Charlotte whispered. "If she talks, this whole thing unravels."
A moment of heavy silence.
I spoke before either of them could. "Then we're going."
Damian's eyes rolled up. "It's a trap."
"I don't care."
"Ava—"
"I'm not asking you for permission, Damian," I said, my voice steady. "Either you help me, or I'll go alone."
His eyes flashed with something sharp — part fury, part admiration.
After a long, tense beat, he swore under his breath. "You're insane."
"Maybe."
He leaned closer, his voice low and far from being smooth. "And if anything happens to you tonight… I swear to God, I'll burn this city to the ground."
My pulse stuttered at the heat in his words.
Charlotte cleared her throat awkwardly. "We leave in twenty minutes."
I nodded.
And as the SUV sped toward the edge of the city, I realized something terrifying.
This wasn't about saving my father anymore.
It was about finding out what kind of person I was willing to become to get him back.
And I wasn't sure I was going to like the answer.
The SUV cut through the dark streets like a shadow. City lights blurred past the windows, but I barely noticed them. My eyes stayed locked on the phone in my lap, the last frame of that video burned into my mind — my father, battered, calling my name.
A thousand thoughts fought for dominance in my head. Fear,Fury and then Hope. And underneath it all, the unbearable ache of uncertainty. Where had he been? Why hadn't he come home? Was he a victim… or a criminal?
Damian hadn't spoken in minutes. His focus was fixed on the road ahead, jaw set, eyes hard. A vein pulsed in his neck, betraying a tension I wasn't sure even he realized was there.
Charlotte sat beside me in the backseat, her fingers worrying the hem of her jacket. Even she — who always seemed so sharp, so composed — looked rattled now.
I finally broke the silence. "Tell me about Olivia."
Charlotte glanced at me, then exchanged a look with Damian. He gave a tight nod.
"She was Vaughn's personal assistant… and spy," Charlotte said quietly. "But ten years ago, something changed. She fed information to your father when he was working for the Knight family. They were close."
"Close how?" I asked, a bitter edge to my voice.
Damian answered this time. "Not like that. She respected him, trusted him. And when everything went down… she disappeared. Word was, she went into hiding, changed her name and no one heard from her since."
"Until now," I murmured.
Charlotte nodded grimly. "And if they've found her, it means they're cleaning house."
The SUV pulled into a shadowed side street, headlights cutting through the mist hanging low over the asphalt. Damian parked behind an abandoned building, its windows boarded up, paint peeling from the brick. It looked like the kind of place people vanished in.
"Stay in the car," Damian ordered, turning to Charlotte.
Her eyes flashed. "Like hell."
He didn't argue. Didn't have time. Instead, he reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a sleek handgun and tucking it into the back of his waistband. Another went to Charlotte, who took it without hesitation.
He glanced at me.
"I don't have a weapon for you," he said softly. "And I don't want you near the action."
I lifted my face. "Not happening."
"Ava—"
"Either I'm in this, or I'm walking straight through that front door myself."
He stared at me for a long, hard moment, then swore under his breath and grabbed something else from the glovebox — a small, curved blade with a dark hilt.
"Take this," he said, pressing it into my hand. "And if anyone touches you, you don't hesitate."
I nodded, my fingers curling around the cool metal.
We stepped into the night.
The air was heavy with fog and the scent of damp concrete. The building loomed over us, its silhouette jagged and menacing. Damian led the way, his steps silent, Charlotte close behind.
I followed, every nerve in my body screaming.
At the side entrance, Damian punched in a code on a rusted keypad. The door clicked open, revealing a narrow, dark hallway.
Inside, it was worse
The air reeked of mildew and something metallic. The walls were stained, the floor littered with debris. Somewhere in the distance, a pipe dripped steadily.
Damian motioned for us to stay close. I moved in behind him, my hand clenched around the knife, my pulse pounding in my ears.
We passed empty rooms, broken furniture, scattered papers. The building felt abandoned, yet a prickling sensation crawled up my spine.
Someone was here.
A faint sound drifted through the hallway — a muffled cry. Charlotte's head snapped toward it.
"Down there," she whispered.
We followed the sound, moving deeper into the maze-like building. Every step felt heavier, every shadow darker. The crying grew louder, more desperate.
We turned a corner — and there she was.
A woman sat slumped in a chair, her wrists bound with zip ties, a dark bruise blooming across her cheek. Her hair hung in tangled strands around her face, and her clothes were torn. She lifted her head as we approached, her eyes swollen but sharp.
"Olivia," Charlotte breathed.
The woman coughed, blood staining her lips. "Took you long enough."
Damian crouched beside her, slicing through the ties. "Are you hurt?"
"I've had worse," Olivia replied. She looked up at me, her gaze pinning me in place. "You're Ava."
I nodded, my throat tight.
She gave a bitter smile. "You look just like your mother."
The pain in my chest flared.
"We need to move," Damian said, helping her to her feet. "Can you walk?"
"Enough to get out of this hellhole."
We started back the way we came — but before we'd made it ten feet, a figure stepped into the hallway ahead.
Tall broad-shouldered. A scar running from his temple to his jaw.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the man said, a gun leveled at Damian's chest.
More shadows moved behind him. Three men. All armed.
Damian pushed me behind him, his stance tense. "Let her go."
The scarred man smiled. "Oh, we'll let her go. Right after we deliver a message."
He raised the gun.
And without thinking, I moved.
I hurled the blade in my hand, the small weapon spinning through the air — and striking the man's arm. He swore, the gun clattering to the floor.
Damian lunged, a flurry of motion. Charlotte fired, dropping one of the others.
Chaos erupted.
Shots, shouts, the thud of fists against flesh.
I barely registered what was happening before a hand closed around my wrist, dragging me down the hallway.
A low voice in my ear.
"Time to finish what we started, Ava."
I twisted, heart beating against my ribs — and came face to face with someone I'd only seen in old photographs….Elias Vaughn.
Alive.