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Day blends into night as I sift through every digital trace of Dion’s last known moves. Even after talking to Evander’s counterparts, Hendrick and Sebastian, in Antium, and having them scour their surveillance network, Dion remains a ghost. Frustration gnaws at me, but I refuse to give up.
Somewhere in this digital maze is the key to finding Dion. And I’m going to find it, no matter how deep I have to go. For Aria.
Then, finally, I get a ping. Dion’s last known location was in the Lower District near some shady club. My eyes scan the footage. Nothing. Whoever took him made sure to wipe the footage clean, but they made a small, crucial mistake.
At first, I missed it—a tiny peep of a motorcycle in the corner of the alleyway next to the club. I zoom in, and there it is: Dion’s bike. The license plate confirms it. I dive into the footage from a ten-mile radius around the same time his bike was abandoned.
Hours pass in a blur until I see it—a black town car heading east. Bingo. This is it. This is my lead.
I grab my phone and call Evander. “Ton brika.”
“Poú eínai?”
“Lower District. He was taken from a bar in a black town car heading east. I’ll send you the details and footage.”
We hang up, and I lean back in my chair, feeling a rare sense of accomplishment.
My computer chimes again—a new message from Phantom. I glance at it, my mind already shifting gears.
But the hunt is on, so Phantom will have to wait.
The next morning, I huddle with Evander’s men, maps spread out before us, as we plan our next move.
I take charge, my thoughts racing through the network of underground passages that crisscross the city. There’s a tunnel entrance a mile away from where the Town Car was last spotted. It’s our best chance of getting in unnoticed.
“We’ll go in through here,” I say, tracing the route on the map. “It’s off the grid, away from prying eyes. From there, I’ll go in alone.”
Evander nods. “You sure you don’t want back-up?”
“There will probably be soldiers everywhere. We can’t risk drawing attention. I’ll move faster alone, and no one knows who I am.”
With the plan in place, we gear up and head out.
As we approach the entrance, I take a deep breath and pull the black ski mask over my face. With a silent nod to Evander, I slip into the shadows, disappearing into the darkness.
The tunnel is a maze of twisting passages, and I move with determination, my footsteps echoing against the stone walls.
I catch a faint glimmer of light ahead, accompanied by the muffled sound of voices. I slow my pace, pulse quickening with adrenaline. Drawing closer, I strain my ears, trying to decipher the number of men ahead. Three, maybe four voices.
I take a moment to mentally prepare myself, tightening the grip on my rifle. With a steady breath, I step into the room.
Two swift blows from the butt of my rifle send two of the men crashing to the ground, unconscious. But before I can turn around, a third man lunges at me, fists flying. I dodge his punches with ease, countering with strikes of my own. The sound of our grunts and the dull thud of fists against flesh fills the air.
Then, just as I’ve knocked him down, a fourth man comes out of the shadows.
His gun is leveled at me.
Adrenaline courses through me as I meet his gaze.
“Who are you?” he demands.
I hold his gaze, unflinching, and lower my rifle just slightly. “A ghost.”
“Don’t fuck with me, who are you?” The man’s eyes narrow, his finger twitching on the trigger.
A noise sounds from one of the tunnels, distracting him, and I spring into action. In one quick motion, I bring my rifle up, knock the gun from his hand and swipe my foot behind his legs. He falls with a grunt, and I pin him to the ground with a firm hand on his chest.
He struggles beneath me, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stares up at me with wide eyes. My gaze is unwavering as I lean in close.
