Chapter 14: Into the Unknown...

New York never truly slept. Even at this hour, the streets were alive, the city humming with restless energy. Bright billboards illuminated the skyline, neon signs flickered along the sidewalks, and voices—laughter, shouting, whispers—blended into a chaotic symphony.

Isabelle Monroe sat stiffly in the back of the black SUV, her fingers curling into the seat as she watched the towering buildings blur past. The knowledge of what she had just learned sat heavy in her chest, her mind looping over the same haunting thought.

My father was alive three years ago.

Three years.

And yet, there had been nothing—no sign, no message, no clue that he had survived. If what Marcus Hamilton had said was true, then why? Why hadn't her father reached out to her? Was he running? Was he being held somewhere? Or worse… had he met an even darker fate?

Beside her, Damian was silent, his sharp gaze locked on the road ahead. His fingers tapped absently against his thigh, a habit she had noticed when he was deep in thought.

"I can hear you thinking," she murmured.

Damian's lips barely curved, but his voice remained unreadable. "We have a problem."

Isabelle turned to him fully. "Only one?"

"Christopher Monroe didn't just disappear," Damian said, his tone low and controlled. "Someone erased him. The real question is… why?"

A chill crawled up Isabelle's spine.

Damian continued, "If Hamilton was right, your father didn't just vanish on his own. Either he went into hiding, or someone forced him to."

"But who would do that?" Isabelle asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

Damian's gaze met hers. "Someone who has a lot to lose if you find him."

The weight of those words pressed against her chest.

Her father wasn't just missing.

He was a threat.

The SUV slowed as they approached an intersection, and Damian's gaze flicked to the rearview mirror.

Subtly, he adjusted his seat, his body language shifting.

"What is it?" Isabelle asked, her instincts immediately on edge.

"We're being followed."

Isabelle stiffened. "Are you sure?"

Damian didn't answer right away. Instead, he made a sudden right turn onto a less crowded street. The vehicle behind them hesitated for half a second before following suit.

His jaw tightened. "Yeah. I'm sure."

A sharp spike of fear lanced through Isabelle, but she forced herself to stay calm.

"Can you lose them?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Watch me," Damian muttered.

The SUV accelerated, weaving through traffic with effortless precision. The other car—a sleek, dark sedan—kept pace, its tinted windows concealing the driver.

Damian took another abrupt turn, then another, moving deeper into the city's maze-like streets. But no matter which way he went, the sedan remained locked onto them like a predator.

"They're good," Damian admitted, his hands steady on the wheel.

Isabelle's pulse hammered. "What do we do?"

Damian's gaze was ice. "We make them regret it."

Damian suddenly veered onto a side road, the tires screeching against the pavement. He drove fast, cutting into an alleyway, the sedan close behind. But instead of escaping, he did something unexpected.

He slammed the brakes.

The SUV jerked to a violent stop, and before Isabelle could process what was happening, Damian was already moving.

"Stay here," he ordered.

Then he was out of the car, gun drawn.

The sedan's doors burst open, and two figures stepped out—both male, dressed in dark clothing. One was stocky with a shaved head, the other leaner, more agile.

Damian didn't hesitate. He moved like a shadow, closing the distance between them with terrifying speed.

The first man barely had time to react before Damian struck—one sharp blow to the ribs, followed by a brutal kick that sent him sprawling.

The second man pulled a gun.

Isabelle barely had time to scream before Damian disarmed him with a quick, calculated movement. The weapon clattered to the ground. In one fluid motion, Damian slammed the man against the car, pressing his own gun to his temple.

"Who sent you?" His voice was lethal.

The man gritted his teeth but didn't answer.

Damian pressed harder. "I won't ask again."

A flicker of fear crossed the man's face.

"We were just supposed to follow," he said, his voice tight. "That's it."

"Who gave the order?"

The man hesitated. Then, through clenched teeth, he muttered, "We don't know. The orders came through an encrypted channel. All we knew was to watch the girl."

Damian's eyes darkened.

"You're lying."

The man swallowed hard.

Damian stepped closer. "Who are you working for?"

A pause.

Then, barely above a whisper, the man said, "You don't want to know."

Damian's grip tightened. "Try me."

But before the man could answer—

A shot rang out.

Isabelle gasped as the man in Damian's grip suddenly went rigid, his body jerking before going limp.

A sniper.

A warning.

Damian let go, letting the body slump to the ground. His movements were swift as he grabbed Isabelle, shielding her. "We need to move. Now."

He pulled her back into the SUV, his expression unreadable, but Isabelle could feel the tension radiating from him.

As he sped off, her mind raced.

Someone had been watching.

Someone had given the order to follow them.

And now, someone had just silenced a man before he could speak.

Back at the safe house, Damian paced, phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in low, controlled tones. Isabelle sat on the couch, still shaken, replaying the night's events in her head.

"They knew we were coming," she said quietly.

Damian ended his call and turned to face her. "Yeah. And that means we're running out of time."

She swallowed. "Do you think my father is still alive?"

Damian's expression was unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he said, "If he is, we're not the only ones looking for him."

A chill ran through her.

Whatever was happening, whatever secrets her father had been hiding—

They were deadly.

And if they didn't find the truth fast, Isabelle might not live long enough to uncover it.