Chapter 8

The room was dim when they dragged Williams in. The curtains were drawn, the chandelier above them casting a lazy golden hue on Adrian’s face as he sat in silence, the ice in his glass melting slower than his patience.

“Where is Scarlett?” Adrian asked calmly, swirling the liquid in his tumbler.

Williams’s hands were trembling slightly, eyes darting to Tony standing by the wall with arms crossed.

“I—I don’t know where she is, Mr. Adrian. She didn’t come to my place or the office. I’ve been calling her for days, but she’s not answering. I swear,” he said, voice shaking, fear seeping through every syllable.

Adrian offered a thin smile. “You hired her, didn’t you? That means you must’ve had her employment file. Home address. References.”

Williams nodded quickly, fumbling with his phone. “Yes. Yes. I—I have it here.”

He pulled up a contact card and handed it over. Tony leaned in and squinted at the screen, then his brow furrowed.

“This is Lucas’s address,” Tony muttered.

Adrian’s head turned slowly toward him. “Come again?”

“That apartment,” Tony clarified, “belongs to your son.”

Adrian’s grip on the glass stilled. His voice dropped. “Maybe they dated. She could’ve lived there with him before.”

Williams jumped at the opening. “Yes, yes! Maybe that’s it. I mean—I’ve never seen them together, but it’s possible.”

Adrian’s expression remained unreadable. “Who else do you know? Anyone she was close to?”

Williams hesitated.

The room stilled.

Adrian set the tumbler down with deliberate grace, then reached into the drawer beside him and cocked the gun without breaking eye contact.

Williams paled. “She has a friend. A best friend, I think. His name is Marco. Marco Alvarez.”

Tony blinked. “Alvarez? As in the narcotics cop?”

Williams nodded quickly. “He’s not narcotics anymore. Last I heard, he got suspended. But they were close. He used to pick her up after work. I always thought it was romantic. You know. The cop and the rebel.”

Adrian laughed softly. “A cop.”

“Adrian,” Tony said cautiously, “this might be a setup. Or misinformation.”

Adrian leaned back. Smiled. “Oh, I hope not. I’m itching for a proper hunt.”

He flicked a hand toward Tony, who disappeared down the hallway. Moments later, he returned with a duffle bag, dropping it on the floor with a muffled thud. When he unzipped it, the contents gleamed dully under the chandelier—tiny explosive devices, wires, a tracker.

“Strip him,” Adrian said lazily.

“What? Wait—wait!” Williams stammered, backing up. “Adrian, please, I’m telling you everything I know!”

“I believe you,” Adrian said. “But I don’t trust you.”

Tony stepped forward, tying a small device around Williams’s ankle, the kind that could rip a man in half if he so much as sneezed wrong.

“Take us to Marco,” Adrian said. “And you’ll walk away a free man. If you’re lying, well… you’ll still walk. Just not with your legs attached.”

Williams nodded, pale and sweating.

—

The black SUV pulled into the cracked driveway of a rundown house on the city’s edge. Trees hung like crooked guardians. No neighbors. No movement.

“This is where he lives?” Adrian asked.

Williams nodded. “This was the last address I had from her.”

Adrian turned to Tony. “Take a few inside. Quiet. If he runs, don’t chase. Shoot.”

Tony nodded, signaling two others. They slipped out, guns drawn, moving like shadows.

Adrian lit a cigarette. 

Inside, Marco wasn’t home.

The place had been cleaned out—no photos, no notes, no trace of Scarlett. The fridge was empty. The bed was stripped. There was a faint smell of bleach.

Tony returned minutes later. “He’s gone. Left nothing behind. Someone wiped the place down.”

Adrian glanced at Williams.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I didn’t know he moved—”

“I believe you,” Adrian said again, then nodded to Tony.

A second later, the man screamed. The tracker had shocked him, not enough to kill—yet—but enough to bring him to his knees.

“I want every traffic cam pulled from this block. I want Marco’s sister. His mother. His friends. I want everyone who is related to him.” Adrian’s voice was calm but lethal.

Tony already had his phone out. “We’ll start digging.”

——

Miles away, in a moving truck disguised as a bakery delivery van, Scarlett sat in the backseat beside a woman with short black hair and military eyes.

“You’re not what I expected,” the woman said flatly.

Scarlett clutched her coat tighter. “What does that mean?”

“You look soft. Not the type to burn down a politician’s life and run with the devil’s heir inside you.”

Scarlett’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know me.”

The woman cracked a grin. “I do, a famous journalist. That aside I am Kira. Marco’s sister.”

Scarlett nodded. “What’s the price?”

Kira leaned in. “Once I disappear you, you don’t contact anyone. Not Marco. Not your old boss. Not even your damn self. You get a new name, a new face, and if you’re lucky, a life.”

“And if I don’t pay that price?”

“Then I dump you in a warehouse where Adrian Moretti will find you in less than an hour.”

Scarlett didn’t flinch. “Do it. Whatever it takes.”

Kira studied her for a beat longer. “You really don’t want him to find you.”

Scarlett looked out the van window.

“I’m not running for me,” she whispered. “I’m running for the baby.”

Kira nodded, just once.

“Then let’s make sure the devil never finds either of you.”

—

Back at the Moretti estate, Adrian stood in Lucas’s old room. Dust gathered on the bookshelf. A tie still hung from the closet door like a ghost of better days.

“You gave her your place,” Adrian muttered, staring at the empty bed. “You let her sleep under my name.”

Lucas was gone. He hadn’t answered calls. Tony couldn’t track his phone. But there were signs—bank withdrawals, camera footage. Lucas wasn’t hiding.

He was running.

“You think you’re protecting her,” Adrian said to no one, “but you’ve only made it worse.”

His phone buzzed.

Tony’s voice came through. “We found Marco’s sister. Kira Alvarez. What do we do with her?” He asked.

Adrian didn’t hesitate. His eyes were already dead. The kind of dead that only comes from betrayal and blood. He stood by the broken window of his study, the night wind tugging at his shirt. His voice came low, sharp, and final.

“End her life.”

Silence. Even over the line.

Then—

“And send it to Marco.” Adrian crushed his cigarette underfoot. “Let him know what it means to keep my woman away from me.”