VANISHED WITHOUT A TRACE

The morning sun hadn't yet risen when the house staff noticed something wrong. Ayla's bed was untouched. Her room, silent. No signs of struggle, no shattered glass, no broken doors—just an empty room and a cold dread settling in the hearts of those who knew her.

Viper was in his private study when he received the news. His hand froze mid-sip, the coffee cup trembling slightly before he placed it down with a sharp clink. "What do you mean she's gone?" he growled, rising slowly, every inch of his posture radiating restrained fury.

The guards swore she hadn't left the estate. Cameras showed nothing. No alerts were triggered. It was as though she had disappeared into thin air.

Miles away, Leon was pouring over maps and surveillance footage with Nico when the message came through: Ayla is missing.

Everything inside him stopped.

"She was safe," Leon muttered under his breath, the words tasting like ash. "She was supposed to be safe!"

Nico stood beside him, silent but watchful, understanding Leon's spiral without needing to speak. The rage was brewing, sharp and dangerous.

Neither Leon nor Viper had a clue who had taken her. But both men knew one thing—this wasn't a random attack. This was personal.

Viper called every ally, every informant, every underground source he had. He made no threats, no promises. He simply said Ayla's name—and the world knew someone would pay.

Meanwhile, deep in unfamiliar territory, Ayla's consciousness flickered in and out. Her hands were bound, a cloth gag pressed between her teeth. The room was dim, but voices echoed from outside the door.

"She doesn't even know who we are," one said. "That's the point. It'll hurt them more when they find out."

Footsteps approached.

Ayla's eyes fluttered open just in time to see a figure step in—one she didn't recognize. But the glint in their eyes told her this wasn't about ransom.

This was revenge.