Chapter 17: Shadows of New Orleans....

The air in New Orleans was thick with humidity and secrets. The glow of streetlights cast long shadows over the cobblestone streets, where whispers of the past seemed to echo in the night. The city had a pulse of its own—a rhythm of danger hidden beneath the jazz melodies floating from dimly lit bars.

Isabelle shifted uneasily in her seat as Damian maneuvered the black SUV through the narrow streets. The neon glow of Bourbon Street flickered in the distance, a stark contrast to the darkness they were about to step into.

"You sure about this?" she asked, gripping the seatbelt as they pulled into a secluded parking lot behind an old warehouse.

Damian's hands remained steady on the wheel. "We don't have a choice."

Isabelle swallowed hard. He was right. If Cameron Steele was alive, they needed to find him before someone else did.

A single streetlight buzzed above them as Damian killed the engine. A figure stepped out of the shadows—a man in a worn leather jacket, face half-hidden beneath the hood of his sweatshirt.

Reed.

"You got here fast," he muttered, glancing around like he expected someone to be watching.

Damian stepped out, keeping one hand near his gun. "You sounded urgent."

Reed exhaled sharply. "That's because you're running out of time. If Steele is alive, he won't be for much longer."

Isabelle shivered at the weight of his words. "Where is he?"

Reed hesitated, eyes flicking between them. Then, he pulled a small slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Damian.

"An old psychiatric facility outside the city. Abandoned years ago—but I've heard rumors. People get taken there and don't come out."

Isabelle's stomach twisted.

Damian unfolded the paper, scanning the address. His jaw tightened. "How many people are guarding it?"

Reed scoffed. "This isn't some cheap operation. Whoever's running that place? They don't leave loose ends."

Damian nodded. "Then we make sure we don't become one."

Reed hesitated, then lowered his voice. "Be careful. The last guy who asked about this place disappeared."

They left the city behind, the flickering lights swallowed by the dense trees lining the highway. The road ahead was dark, leading them deeper into the unknown.

Isabelle's pulse quickened. The air inside the SUV felt heavier, the silence thick with unspoken thoughts.

"Do you think Steele is really alive?" she asked.

Damian's fingers tightened around the wheel. "If he is, we need to get to him before they do."

A cold shiver ran down her spine. They.

The people who killed Hamilton. The ones who had wanted her father erased.

The enemy was still in the shadows, and they were walking straight into their den.

They pulled up to a crumbling building, its walls covered in ivy and decay. The air smelled damp, the silence unnatural.

Isabelle's instincts screamed at her to turn back. Nothing about this place felt abandoned.

Damian handed her a small knife. "Stay close to me. If anything happens, run."

She wanted to argue, but his eyes told her he wasn't playing games.

With a deep breath, they slipped into the darkness.

The halls were lined with rusted doors, the floor beneath their feet creaking with every step. Dim emergency lights flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Then—footsteps.

Damian grabbed Isabelle's arm, pulling her into an alcove just as two guards passed by, their rifles glinting in the faint light.

She held her breath, heart pounding.

The guards stopped near a heavy metal door, speaking in hushed tones.

"He's still alive," one of them muttered. "But for how long?"

Isabelle's stomach twisted. They were talking about Steele.

As soon as the guards disappeared, Damian moved swiftly toward the door. He pulled a small tool from his pocket, working on the lock with precision.

A faint click echoed in the hallway.

They slipped inside.

A Ghost in Chains

The room was small, dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. In the corner, slumped against the wall, was a man.

His face was gaunt, his hair streaked with gray, but his eyes—sharp and wary—snapped open at the sound of their approach.

Damian stepped forward. "Cameron Steele?"

The man let out a weak chuckle. "Took you long enough."

Isabelle's breath caught. He was alive.

But he wouldn't be for long if they didn't move fast.

Damian knelt beside him, checking the cuffs securing him to the chair. "We're getting you out of here."

Steele's gaze flickered to Isabelle. "You… You're Christopher's daughter, aren't you?"

The words slammed into her chest like a hammer.

"You knew my father?" she whispered.

Steele nodded slowly. "I didn't just know him… I tried to save him."

Isabelle's hands curled into fists. "Then tell me the truth. Why did they take him?"

Steele exhaled, shaking his head. "Because your father had something they wanted. Something so dangerous, they erased him to keep it buried."

Before she could press for more, a sharp alarm blared through the facility.

Damian cursed. "Time's up."

Footsteps thundered down the hall. Shadows moved beyond the door.

Damian shot a look at Isabelle. "Stay behind me."

The door burst open.

A guard lunged forward, but Damian was faster—a single shot dropped him instantly. Another man rushed in, and Isabelle barely had time to react before Damian swung his elbow back, knocking the attacker out cold.

Steele groaned as Damian cut his restraints. "Can you walk?"

"Not well," Steele muttered. "But I don't have much choice, do I?"

Damian slung one of Steele's arms over his shoulder. "Move."

They ran.

Bullets tore through the air as guards shouted behind them. Isabelle's pulse pounded in her ears as she ducked behind a corner, her fingers shaking around the knife Damian had given her.

Damian fired back, his shots precise. Two guards went down.

They reached the exit, and Damian shoved open the door—only to come face-to-face with a masked figure holding a silencer.

Isabelle froze.

The man didn't speak. He simply raised the gun—aimed directly at Steele.

A single shot rang out.

The man staggered back, a bullet hole between his eyes.

Damian exhaled sharply, lowering his gun. "Let's go."

They barely made it to the SUV before more figures emerged from the facility, their shouts drowned out by the roaring engine as Damian sped off into the night.

Isabelle twisted in her seat, heart still hammering. They had Steele. But what now?

The truth wasn't just hidden. It was hunted.

And now, they were in the middle of it.