“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“You’ve always been too intense when it comes to Ayra,” Ferdinand said, his tone almost fatherly.
“I needed to ensure this was handled with precision, not the brute force you would have preferred.”
Lisbeth could not argue with that.
"So, what now?" She asked.
Ferdinand chuckled.
"Now, we hunt down Ayra."
As if on cue, Lisbeth’s phone rang in her pocket. She retrieved it with and her brows knitted together when she saw Sarah’s name flash across the screen. She answered, putting the phone on speaker.
“Sarah, what do you have?” Lisbeth asked.
On the other end of the line, Sarah hesitated, her voice uncertain.
“Lisbeth, Ayra called me just a minute ago. She asked after the tickets I told you she'd asked me to help her book.”
“What did you say?” Lisbeth interrupted. "She called you? Now?"
"Yeah, I just got off the phone with her. Said she would call me again and I should get the train ticket ready for her."
“The train ticket. Did you book it?” Lisbeth repeated, her voice rising.
"No, I didn't, just like you asked."
Lisbeth's mind raced. Marcy had called her earlier that day so it was easy to figure out that Ayra was setting up decoys.
"Book them now and send the details to her. Send them to me too," Lisbeth said. There was no need to scare Ayra just yet.
Ayra's three escape routes were firmly in their hands and if one suddenly disappeared, she would try to replace it, potentially slipping from their grasp.
"Alright." Sarah ended the call.
Lisbeth looked at her father.
"Ayra's left the venue it seems," she said.
Ferdinand leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful.
“What about Marcy?” he prompted. “Ayra had spoken to her as well this morning, hadn't she?”
Lisbeth nodded, her fingers flying over her phone and pulling up Marcy’s number. When the call connected, she didn’t bother with any greetings. “Marcy, where are you?”
Marcy’s voice came through the line, clear and chipper. “I’m at that little cafe Ayra told me about. You know, the one out near the old mill road.”
Lisbeth exchanged a concerned look with Ferdinand. “Has she shown up yet?”
“No,” Marcy replied, her tone turning curious. “I’ve been waiting for a while, but she hasn’t called or texted to say she’s on her way. Is everything alright?”
Lisbeth forced a smile into her voice. “Everything’s fine. Just stay there and keep an eye out, will you, sweety? Let me know the moment you see her.”
She ended the call and turned back to Ferdinand.
Her father didn’t say a word. Instead, he picked up his phone and dialed a number. He held the phone to his ear, his face calm and unreadable.
“It’s me,” he said after a moment. “Has there been any sign of Ayra?”
The person on the other end answered immediately. “No, sir. The driver has been at the rendezvous point for over an hour. Ayra hasn’t shown up.”
Ferdinand pressed his lips into a thin line. “Stay on him. If she makes contact, let me know immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
He ended the call and looked at Lisbeth. “She’s avoiding Eleanor entirely. That much is clear.”
Lisbeth exhaled sharply, her frustration mounting. “If she’s not there, then she’s already in the city and moving. Question is - where? If Eleanor's a dud, that leaves Sarah and Marcy.”
Lisbeth ran a hand through her hair. “She’s playing games with us. Anyway, there are three routes she can take - train tickets, Marcy, and Eleanor’s car—it’s impossible to tell which is real."
"The train tickets are a dud too. She knows that Sarah was the one who leaked her location the first time she ran away. It is obvious she would expect for her to leak it again."
Lisbeth shook her head.
"Ayra knows that. She would expect you to dismiss it so she can safely get on. On the other hand, she may want us to look for her there instead of at Marcy's, banking on the fact that you know she expects us to dismiss it and so we won't. So there's no saying if it is a dud or not."
"Then we simply close down that route," Ferdinand said. "We can't mobilize much people on such short notice so we better block her at the station and drive her toward Marcy. At the very least Marcy is on our side."
Lisbeth nodded reluctantly, her mind already racing with possibilities. Things were coming together neatly but she still could not shake the feeling that they were missing something.
....
Eleanor pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache threatening to form as she leaned back in her chair, frustration bubbling within her.
The tiny screen before her displayed the real-time location of the burner phone she had oh so carefully provided Ayra.
Its signal hadn’t moved for over twenty minutes, hovering stubbornly just a few meters from her hired driver.
She pressed her phone harder against her ear, her tone clipped. “You’re telling me there’s no one there, and yet the signal shows that she's right in front of you. What are you? Blind?”
The driver’s voice crackled through the line, defensive and uncertain.
“Ma’am, I swear, I’ve checked more than thrice already. There’s nobody here, just the same stretch of road and a bit of overgrown brush. No girls, no Ayra, no nothing.”
Eleanor’s jaw tightened, her free hand drumming a rhythm on the table. “Look again. If she dropped the phone, it could be nearby, but I highly doubt she vanished without a trace.”
The driver sighed audibly, muttering curses under his breath before the faint sound of his boots crunching on gravel filtered through the phone.
Eleanor waited in tense silence, her sharp eyes glued to the blinking dot on her laptop screen.
“Found it,” the driver said after a moment, his voice tinged with surprise. “The phone’s here on the ground, face down. But there’s no sign of the girl.”
Eleanor’s frustration boiled over. “You mean to tell me she dropped the only means I had to track her? How does that even happen? Did you see anyone nearby? Hear anything unusual?”
“No, ma’am,” the driver replied, sounding a bit nervous now. “It’s quiet out here. Too quiet, to be honest. She must’ve ditched the phone on purpose.”
Eleanor clenched her teeth, her mind racing as she tried to piece together what had gone wrong. From Ayra she had expected hesitation, panic even, but not... This.
“Bring me the phone,” Eleanor said finally, her tone clipped. “And stay where you are for now. Keep your eyes open.”
The driver murmured his acknowledgment before the line went dead, leaving Eleanor in silence save for the faint hum of her laptop.
She stared at the blinking dot on the screen, now utterly useless. Ayra had outmaneuvered her, and that realization gnawed at her.
Her brother and Lisbeth were bad enough and now even AYRA was out to thwart her? Ridiculous.
“She’s playing a dangerous game,” Eleanor said to herself, her voice low and bitter. “But two can play.”
Ayra was still on the run, slipping through everyone’s grasp like smoke.
Picking up her phone again, Eleanor dialed another number, her patience fraying.
“Any news?” she asked.
"None."
Eleanor tapped her fingers against the desk, her frustration mounting. “Keep an eye on all major routes out of the city and don't forget the airport too. She might be trying to blend in with the crowd.”
The voice on the other end hesitated. “Do you think she’s going off-grid completely? If so, it’s going to be harder to track her.”
Eleanor’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She doesn’t have the resources for that. She’ll need help eventually, and when she does, I’ll be there.”
Quite a few people were interested in Ayra. She could not run.
It was impractical to search the entire city for her, Ayra knew. But if she really did disappear without a trace then it would merely be a matter of minutes before she was caught and dragged back. Hence she had set up for her father two leads - Marcy and Sarah. The train tickets from Sarah would ensure he directed manpower that way given that the chances of her taking the train was practically fifty fifty. Marcy was a done deal, and perhaps he would suspect aunt Eleanor too and waste his efforts on her. That would give her the opportunity to strike out on her own and actually have a chance at fleeing. With their minds so fixated on the decoys she had set up and trying to see if they had ignored any other, she would run for the hills and have a pretty good headstart. It was rather clever, but Ayra did not quite come up with it in her own. Her mother had to take credit for the general idea. She had taught Ayra much. At the moment, Ayra sat in the dimly lit corner of a café, a cup
Ayra was well aware she only had a small window of time before Simon realized his card was missing and blocked it. Every second counted.Her first stop was a car rental office she knew since she was a kid. Obviously. The nondescript building, squeezed between a laundromat and a pawnshop, was the kind of place where people didn’t ask too many questions. Inside, the air smelled strongly of coffee and air freshener. Uncle Jim - the man who owned the place - was severely addicted to caffeine. The clerk, a young man with messy hair and a bored attitude, barely glanced up as Ayra approached the counter. “How can I help you?” he drilled, looking like he did not actually want to help her in any way. “I need to rent a car,” Ayra said, keeping her voice calm.The clerk slid a form across the counter. “Fill this out. ID and payment when you’re done.”"No ID," she said, handing over Simon’s card.He grunted and swiped the card, handed it back, and pulled out a set of keys.“Parking lot, stall
Lucian leaned back in his chair, the weight of the negotiation pressing uncomfortably against his temples. Across him, Gregory Wendell, the eldest son of the Wendell family, sat with an - in his opinion - rather dumb smile etched into his face. The meeting was a vital one - a... rare moment of diplomacy between two families whose history for the past few years had no end of spite and betrayal.“The embargos benefits no one,” Gregory said, his tone calm and clipped. Lucian thought he was trying to appear serious. He only came across as slightly comical. “Resuming trade would strengthen both our sides.”Lucian’s fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the polished mahogany table. He kept his expression flat, and his voice sharp as he replied, “Strength isn’t gained by mere convenience. The terms must benefit me enough that I would lift it. The situation of the Wendells won’t sway me.”Truthfully, Lucian was annoyed at this. He was not meant to be here. He had a wedding waiting, damnit, a
The pale light of dawn crept into the study, weak and hesitant, brushing against the mess Lisbeth and Ferdinand had made of the room. Papers and maps were everywhere, with photos and frantic scrawls barely keeping track of their failed attempt to track Ayra.Ferdinand leaned back, rubbing at his temples like that would help him think any clearer. “She’s clever,” he muttered, his voice flat and tired. They had been awake all night, their frustration mounting as lead after lead fell apart and no other turned up. “Too clever,” Lisbeth shot back, pacing like a caged animal. Her hair was a mess, her face drawn and pale. It was quite unlike her. "This is insane. How does a kid with no backup, no cash, and no clue manage to stay ahead of us? How has she managed to just disappear?"At least she's not in Eleanor's hands. That would be a whole other problem were it so. Ferdinand sighed. “She’s clever. But we’re running out of time. If we don’t find her soon, Lucian -”A sharp knock interrup
Lucian sat down on the sofa without another word, leaving Lisbeth and Ferdinand in tense silence. Lucian’s men came and went from the room, bringing news while he went over their actions so far. It was contrary to Ferdinand's plans - they had not expected that Lucian would actually care so much about Ayra. As the hours passed, Lucian’s suspicions only deepened. The more he reviewed their efforts, the more he noticed gaps and inconsistencies. Certain areas hadn’t been thoroughly searched, and some key resources hadn’t been utilized.“You’ve been holding back,” Lucian said coldly. “Admit it.”“We did everything we could,” Lisbeth retorted, her voice more measured now that more time had passed. Lucian countered; “If you’d treated this with the urgency it deserved, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, don't you think?”As Lucian delved deeper into the situation, he had begun to piece together the events leading up to Ayra’s escape. He realized how little agency she’d been given i
One thing cinched the decision to head into the city for her - a letter from her mother. Late one afternoon, while rifling through an old storage box, Ayra stumbled on something that stopped her cold: her mother’s journal. Ayra had spent hours sorting through the contents of a rather obscure cupboard. There were boxes of old photographs, faded linens, and rusted tools her mother had stored away. It was amidst this clutter that she stumbled upon a plain wooden chest, tucked beneath a pile of moth-eaten blankets.The chest was unremarkable at first glance, but as Ayra opened it, a wave of memories flooded back. Inside lay a neatly folded scarf she recognized as her mother’s favorite, a collection of piddly trinkets, and a leather-bound journal.Ayra’s hands trembled as she pulled the dusty journal from its hiding place. The leather cover was worn but sturdy, its edges soft from years of handling. It smelled faintly of lavender despite the dust; her mother’s scent. As she opened it
An hour later, Ayra held a license plate in her hands, turning it over as though its weight could reveal her mother’s intentions. It was wrapped in a protective plastic sleeve, its edges pristine despite its apparent age.The numbers and letters were unfamiliar, but the very sight of it had Ayra marveling at how meticulously her mother had planned for everything eventuality. Every nook and cranny of the quaint cabin had something potentially useful to her stashed away. They had been detailed in her mother's journal, and the least of which was a veritable sack of cash wrapped in plastic. Simon's card was useless now. There was also a fake ID of a blonde haired, blue eyed version of herself, a blonde wig, and blue contacts. She glanced out the window of the cabin at the car she’d rented, its current license plate reflecting the midday sun. Her lips pressed into a firm line as she considered her next move. She wasn’t naive - her mother’s precautions were useful as far as she coul
Ayra hesitated for a long moment before entering the office building. The air felt heavier, the weight of the last few days pressing down on her shoulders. Her nerves acting up while she did her damnedest to calm herself. She adjusted her blond wig, tugged her scarf tighter around her neck, and smoothed her borrowed coat. Her mother’s letter had led her here, but doubt gnawed at her. Would Mr. Landor even remember her mother? Would he even be willing to help her?“Hi,” Ayra greeted, keeping her voice carefully polite. “I need to speak with Mr. Landor. It is urgent.”The young woman behind the desk barely glanced up at her, engrossed as she was in a book as she asked; “Do you have an appointment?”“No, but it’s about a more... personal matter. Please, do tell him it’s from an old friend,” Ayra replied, leaning forward slightly.The receptionist frowned, but perhaps there was something in Ayra’s tone that convinced her to pick up the phone and phone the man's office. After a brief co
She frowned, her mind racing. “And I’m... what? A bargaining chip?”“You are not necessarily that. This marriage benefits us both, Ayra. Think of it as a partnership. We both stand to gain, and in the process, you’ll have the freedom to carve out your own space."She turned back to him, her expression unreadable. “Freedom? You’re marrying me to close business deals and save my family’s reputation. Where’s the freedom in that?”Lucian didn’t flinch under her scrutiny, shrugging instead. “Freedom is what you make of it, Ayra. You can resent the circumstances or leverage them to your advantage. It also provides you with protection from external pressures. You’ve seen how things have been unraveling. Hate it if you want, but I’m offering you a way to gain control over the chaos around you.”Ayra bit her lips, staring almost hatefully at the man before her. Finally, she whispered, “And if I say no?”“Then the Russo business collapses. Your father’s debts consume everything. Your family be
The restaurant exuded an air of understated elegance, its tranquil atmosphere a welcome contrast to the chaos of the city. Instead of harsh lighting, soft, flickering candles bathed their secluded table in a golden glow. Placed away from prying eyes, the setting offered them privacy. It was perfect for a conversation neither of them wanted to have. Or at least , Ayra didn't want to have.Ayra picked at her appetizer - it was a delicate arrangement of smoked salmon on crisp bread - while Lucian sipped his wine. Their initial conversation was light, almost trivial, revolving around the restaurant's decor and the quality of the food. But beneath the pleasantries, Ayra could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her.“So,” Lucian said, breaking the silence that had settled over their initial small talk. His tone was calm, his words deliberate and plodding. “We need to discuss the matter of our marriage.”Ayra stiffened slightly, her fork halting midway to her mouth, though
The car eased to a halt in front of an elegant boutique, its towering glass panes flaunting mannequins draped in flowing evening gowns, crisp suits, and glinting accessories. Ayra cast a sideways glance at Lucian, her brow furrowed in perplexity."Why are we here?" she asked.Lucian killed the engine and stepped out. “We’re having lunch somewhere upscale, remember? That outfit isn’t exactly appropriate.”Her gaze dropped to her jeans and cozy sweater. “It’s perfectly fine,” she said, brow raised. “It is.” he circled around the car to open her door. “But this is about more than fine. Humor me. And by the way, you've worn that since this morning, no?”She slid out reluctantly, her steps dragging as she trailed behind him into the boutique. Quite like the hotel, the interior was a study in luxury. The floors were polished to a shine, the air smelled of lavender, and sleek racks of clothing were arranged with museum-like precision. A soft piano melody played in the background, as if t
Lunch with the Director does not start by noon, Ayra discovered. The next day arrived in a haze. It was as if Ayra's entire world had been compressed into a sleepless limbo of apprehension. She could barely recall collapsing into bed the night before with her mind too preoccupied with Lucian’s final words to truly rest. The morning was still young, with the faintest streaks of dawn painting the sky, when Ayra heard a knock at her bedroom door. She groaned, forcing her eyes open even as she pulled the blanket over her head. The knock came again, more insistent this time.“Ayra,” Lucian’s familiar voice filtered through the door. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. Get up.”Her eyes snapped open. Leaving? She’d agreed to lunch, not... whatever this was. She rolled out of bed begrudgingly, her movements sluggish. Her legs felt like lead as she trudged to the door and yanked it open.“What are you doing here at - ” she glanced morosely at the clock, “ - seven in the morning?”Lucian leaned
Ayra’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, jolting her out of her quiet thoughts. For a moment, she considered ignoring it—it was probably another useless notification. Nothing important.But curiosity got the better of her, and she reached for the phone, unlocking the screen to reveal a message from an unfamiliar number.Unknown: Still awake?Her brows knit together as she stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the screen. After a moment’s hesitation, she typed back.Ayra: Who’s this?The reply was almost immediate.Unknown: Lucian.Her heart skipped a beat. She blinked at the screen before carefully typing her response.Ayra: I am. Awake, that is. What do you want?Lucian: That’s not very friendly. Can’t a guy check in on you?Ayra rolled her eyes, unable to suppress her irritation.Ayra: You’re not exactly my favorite person.Lucian: Oh, but I should be.A scoff escaped her lips before she could stop it. She could practically hear the smugness in his tone.Ayra: Bold of you to
Marcus’s smirk faltered for just a second. When he finally spoke, his tone was resigned. "Fine. You want to know who hired me?"The detective leaned in, watching him closely.“It wasn’t the Wendells,” Marcus said, his words slow and deliberate. His eyes narrowed, calculating. “It was Madam Eleanor.”Lucian’s gaze darkened, the name catching him off guard. Eleanor. Not what he’d been expecting.The detective was just as thrown. “Eleanor Wendell? Since when do the Wendells have an Eleanor?”“No,” Marcus said, shaking his head slightly. “Eleanor Russo.”Silence settled over the room, thick and heavy. Lucian’s jaw tightened as the name sank in. Eleanor Russo. The kind of name that came wrapped in its own web of trouble and danger.Of course, it wasn’t surprising. No one in Isa’s family was simple.“What does Eleanor want with Ayra?” the detective asked, his voice sharper now.Marcus shrugged, unbothered. “She didn’t exactly give me her life story. Just said she wanted the girl brought bac
Ferdinand's face darkened, his shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she thought she’d gone too far. But he didn't lash out. “Your mother made her choices,” he said evenly. “Just as you’re making yours. And she paid the price.”The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating her. She stared at his back, a mix of rage and despair swirling in her chest."I'm not mum," she said quietly."No," he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. "You're not. But if you keep down this path, you'll end up just like her-forgotten and a dozen feet under. Get some sleep, Ayra. You'll feel better in the morning."With that, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Ayra standing, shaking with anger and sorrow. The glass of milk she had set down some time ago now felt like some sort of judgment against her, and she fought the urge to throw it against the wall.She sat there for a very long period of time, staring at the half-full glass of milk on the counter. For the very first time in her li
The only sound in the kitchen was the humming of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of the glass Ayra placed on the counter. The cold milk she had poured only moments before seemed suddenly not so appealing; her appetite had vanished in the tornado of feelings whirling within her. Ayra gazed into the pale liquid, her mind running over and over Lisbeth's behavior.She couldn't shake off this feeling that her family was floating further and further away from her, and that they really didn't care. Unfortunately, no matter how much she liked to pretend otherwise, she was the only one who cared. The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Ayra looked up just as Ferdinand entered the kitchen.He was casually dressed. His shirt sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the confident, driven man she had admired as a child. He paused mid-step as he noticed her."Ayra," he said as a wide smile broke across his face. "What are you doing up at this hour?""I couldn't sleep," she replied,
As the sound of Lisbeth’s footsteps faded, Ayra sank back onto the bed, her body trembling with the effort of holding herself together. The room felt suffocatingly quiet now, the echoes of their argument still ringing in her ears.Her hands shook as she rubbed her face, trying to steady her breathing. Every word Lisbeth had said replayed in her mind, cutting deeper with each repetition.For the first time, Ayra felt a burning hatred toward her sister. It wasn’t just anger or frustration - it was something darker, something more final.She thought of her mother. Of the quiet strength and teachings she’d tried to pass on to Ayra; of the way she’d always managed to keep her safe even when everything was falling apart.She thought of her mother's death. Her cold, stiff corpse lying forlornly on the asphalt, blood pooling beneath her.And now Lisbeth had trampled all over her memory, reducing her to nothing more than a failure.And Ayra found within herself a rapidly blooming hatred and d