Camilla shook her head. "No, Jonathan. If Victor wanted you dead, he could have done it already. He's playing us."
Jonathan clenched his fists. "Then we need to play back."
But what neither of them realized was that Victor was always one step ahead. And their next move? It might just be their last mistake.
Camilla knew they had no time to waste. She grabbed their things and pulled Jonathan toward the door. "We need to leave—now."
Jonathan hesitated. "And go where? If Victor's men are watching, we're just leading them to our next hideout."
Camilla's mind raced. He was right. Running blindly would only put them in more danger. They needed to disappear—but how?
She glanced out the window, scanning the street below. The rain had started falling, making the night even darker. People moved about, unaware that a deadly game of cat and mouse was playing out above them.
Then she saw it—a delivery truck idling near the alley. "That's our way out," she said, nodding toward it. "If we can sneak into the back, we'll be out of here before Victor's men realize we're gone."
Jonathan wasn't convinced. "And if they do realize?"
Camilla exhaled sharply. "Then we fight."
They moved quickly, slipping out through the back door of the motel. The alley was slick with rain, their footsteps nearly silent as they darted toward the truck. Camilla reached for the handle, pulling it open just enough for Jonathan to climb in.
Just as she was about to follow—
A voice cut through the darkness.
"Going somewhere?"
Camilla froze.
A figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking their escape. It was one of Victor's men, his gun already drawn. "Boss said to bring you in alive," he said, smirking. "But he didn't say in what condition."
Jonathan tensed beside her, his fists clenching. Camilla didn't hesitate.
"Run!" she yelled, shoving Jonathan into the truck and slamming the doors shut behind him.
The gunman reacted instantly, raising his weapon—but before he could fire, Camilla lunged. Her fist connected with his wrist, knocking the gun loose. The weapon clattered to the ground, and she didn't stop moving.
She drove her knee into his stomach, sending him stumbling backward. Rain poured down on them as they struggled, the cold air filled with the sound of their breaths and the distant hum of traffic.
But Camilla wasn't fighting to win. She was fighting to buy time.
Inside the truck, Jonathan banged against the metal doors. "Camilla!"
She twisted, breaking free from the man's grip just long enough to yell, "Go!"
The truck's engine roared to life. Jonathan must have reached the driver, because a second later, the vehicle lurched forward, its tires splashing through puddles as it sped off.
Camilla turned back to her opponent, breathing heavily. "Looks like I'm staying," she muttered.
The gunman wiped blood from his lip and grinned. "Yeah. Looks like it."
As the headlights of an approaching car illuminated the alley, Camilla knew exactly who had come for her.
Victor Holloway had finally caught his prey.
Camilla stood in the rain, her breath coming fast as Victor Holloway stepped out of the black car that had just pulled up. The headlights cut through the darkness, casting long shadows across the wet pavement. He didn't look surprised to see her. In fact, he looked almost amused.
"You put up quite a fight," Victor said, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. "I expected you to run, not to stand your ground."
Camilla wiped the rain from her face, her eyes narrowing. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."
Victor chuckled. "Oh, I know you, Camilla. I know you'll do anything to protect your brother. But tell me—do you think he'll do the same for you?"
Camilla's jaw tightened. She knew what he was doing. Trying to break her, make her doubt Jonathan, make her easier to manipulate. But she wasn't falling for it.
"You'll never find him," she said, standing her ground. "He's gone."
Victor smirked. "Is that so?" He nodded to the man Camilla had fought moments ago, who was now gripping her arm tightly. "Put her in the car. We're taking her in."
Camilla struggled as they dragged her toward the vehicle, but she knew it was useless. They were stronger, outnumbering her, and she was exhausted. The fight had drained her.
Victor leaned in close as she was shoved into the back seat. His voice was calm, but the edge in it was unmistakable. "I'll ask one last time, Camilla—who's helping you?"
Camilla met his gaze with steel in her eyes. "Go to hell."
Victor sighed, shutting the door behind her. "Have it your way."
The car pulled away from the alley, leaving the rain and the empty street behind.
But even as she sat trapped in Victor's grip, Camilla allowed herself a small, fleeting smile.
Because Jonathan was free. And if she knew him at all, he wasn't running away. He was coming back with a plan.
Jillian had searched tirelessly for any trace of the man who had tried to kidnap her that night. Every lead felt like a dead end, every source either too afraid to speak or completely unaware of his identity. Frustration grew, but she refused to back down.
Dante had suggested they check old gang connections, but even those who had once thrived on underground dealings claimed they had never heard of such a man. "He's a ghost," one of them had muttered. "If someone like that exists, he doesn't want to be found."
Leo, on the other hand, took a more technical approach, scanning through reports of missing criminals, unsolved crimes, and people who had mysteriously vanished. It wasn't until he stumbled upon a single blurry image—grainy surveillance footage from a nearby street on the night of the attempted kidnapping—that they finally had something. The man's face was obscured, but his build, the way he moved, it was familiar.
Jillian's heart pounded as she stared at the screen. She had seen him before.
But where?
The image on the screen haunted Jillian. The shadowed figure, the confident stride, the way he moved—it all felt disturbingly familiar, yet she couldn't quite place where she had seen him before. It wasn't just the night of the attempted kidnapping. No, this man had crossed her path before, long before that night.
She leaned forward, her fingers tightening into fists. "Leo, can you enhance the image?"
"I've already tried. The quality is too poor. Whoever this guy is, he knew exactly how to avoid clear footage." Leo frowned, tapping a few keys. "But…" He pulled up another image, this one from a different camera angle, barely capturing the man's side profile. "This confirms one thing. He's no ordinary thug. Look at his stance—he's trained."