Empty room. But signs of occupancy, food wrappers, cigarette butts, playing cards scattered across a makeshift table.

Next door.

This one had restraints. Zip-ties on the floor. A chair with rope burns on the wood.

My heart hammered.

She’d been here.

Next door. And the next. Clearing rooms systematically while Hayes’s team provided cover fire in the corridor behind me.

A bathroom. Blood in the sink. Fresh.

A storage room. Empty except for crates of weapons and ammunition.

Another holding room. More restraints. A mattress on the floor with rust-colored stains.

And then, a larger room. Concrete walls reinforced with steel plating. Professional construction.

Signs everywhere that someone had been held here recently.

A torn piece of fabric, white cotton, like from a shirt. I picked it up, my hand shaking slightly.

Aria’s shirt. I’d seen her wearing it the morning she was taken.

But no Aria.

"FACILITY SECURE!" Hayes’s voice echoed through the building. "All hostiles down or retreating!"

I stood there, surrounded by evidence that Aria had been here, in this room, probably terrified and hurt.

But she wasn’t here now.

I missed her again.

My phone rang.

I pulled it out with my free hand, the fabric still clutched in the other.

Unknown number.

I answered.

"Did you really think I’d make it that easy for you?"

Andrew’s voice. Amused. Mocking.

Something inside me went very, very cold.

"Come on, Kael," he continued, laughter threading through his words. "You should know me better than that. I heard the gunfight. Quite the show. Very impressive. How many of my men did you kill?"

I said nothing. Just breathed. In and out. Steady.

Controlled.

"Where is she?" The words came out flat. Empty of emotion.

"Safe. For now." Andrew’s amusement faded slightly. "But you cost me some good men today, brother. That has consequences."

"Where. Is. She."

"Your 48 hours?" He paused for effect. "Shortened. You now have 24 hours to sign over everything. Maybe less, depending on how I’m feeling."

My phone buzzed. A message notification.

"Check your phone," Andrew said.

I pulled it away from my ear, opened the message with my thumb.

And felt my world shatter.

A photo.

Aria.

Tied to a chair, her wrists bound so tightly the skin was raw and bleeding. A gag in her mouth. Her face, God, her face, was a mass of bruises. One eye swollen shut. Split lip. Blood crusted in her hair.

And a gun. Pressed to her temple. The barrel digging into her skin hard enough to leave an indentation.

Her eyes were what destroyed me. Bloodshot from crying. Wide with terror.

But also, impossibly, defiant. Still fighting. Still refusing to break completely.

My hand shook.

Just slightly. Just for a second.

But it shook.

"Pretty, isn’t she?" Andrew’s voice oozed through the phone. "A bit more colorful than before, but still, "

"I’m going to kill you, Andrew."

The words came out calm. Matter-of-fact. A simple statement of truth.

"Not just kill you," I continued, my voice never rising, never wavering. "I’m going to make you suffer. Every person who touched her. Every person who hurt her. Every person who looked at her wrong. I’m going to end them all."

Silence on the other end.

He’d heard something in my voice. Something that made even him, sociopath that he was, pause.

Then, Andrew’s laugh, less confident now, slightly forced. "Big talk for someone who couldn’t even find her."

"24 hours, you said." I looked at the photo again, memorizing every detail. "I’ll find her."

"We’ll see about—"

I hung up.

Turned around.

Hayes stood in the doorway, his tactical team behind him. All of them were staring at me.

Something in my expression made Hayes actually take a step back.

"Sir—"

"Pull every resource we have," I said, my voice cutting through the sudden quiet.

"Satellite surveillance on every property Andrew has ever been near. Every informant, every contact, every criminal we have leverage on, use them all. I want Andrew found in the next six hours."

Agent Morrison appeared, medic in tow. "Mr. Roman, you’re injured—"

I looked down. Blood was seeping through my tactical vest where a bullet had grazed my side during the firefight. I hadn’t even felt it.

"I’m fine," I said. "Get me Sylas. And activate Protocol Omega."

My people froze.

Ash pushed through the crowd, her face pale. "Kael, Protocol Omega is, "

"I don’t care." I met her eyes. "Activate it. Now."

Protocol Omega was our scorched earth contingency. No rules. No limits. Total war. We’d created it for worst-case scenarios where conventional methods had failed and the only option left was to burn everything down.

This qualified.

"Kael," Ash said quietly, "if we activate Omega, there’s no going back. Every criminal contact, every dirty cop, every favor we’ve ever been owed, we call them all in simultaneously. It’ll expose our entire network. The FBI will— "

"I. Don’t. Care." Each word was deliberate. Final. "Aria is out there. Hurt. Terrified. With a gun to her head. And I am going to get her back. Whatever it takes. Whoever I have to burn. However many bodies I have to stack."

I looked around the room, meeting the eyes of every person there.

"Are we clear?"

Nods. Hesitant at first, then more certain.

They’d all seen the photo. Seen what had been done to her.

And they’d all heard my promise.

"Good." I holstered my weapon. "Let’s get to work. The clock is ticking."

As the room exploded into coordinated chaos, people making calls, pulling up databases, activating contacts, I stood there for one more moment, looking at Aria’s photo.

Hold on, I thought. Just hold on a little longer.

I’m coming for you.

And God help anyone who gets in my way.

...

The interrogation room smelled like blood and fear.

The Los Fantasmas lieutenant was zip-tied to a chair, his face already a canvas of purple and red. Two of my men stood behind him, Hayes and Marcus, both former special operations, both intimately familiar with the art of extracting information.

I stood in front of him, my hands surprisingly clean despite the violence.

"I’ll ask again," I said, my voice perfectly calm. "Where did they move her?"

"Fuck you," the man spat, blood spraying from his split lip.

I nodded to Hayes.

Hayes grabbed the man’s hand and bent his index finger back until it snapped.

The scream was satisfying in a distant, clinical way. Like hearing confirmation that a piece of equipment was functioning properly.

"You have nine more fingers," I observed. "Then we move to toes. Then knees. Then elbows. I can keep you alive and in agony for hours before your body gives out."

I crouched down to meet his eyes. "Or you can tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make sure you get medical attention. Maybe even cut you a deal with the FBI."

His breathing was ragged, tears streaming down his face. "You’re, you’re fucking insane—"

"No." I shook my head slowly. "I’m motivated. There’s a difference."

Another nod to Hayes. Another finger.

Another scream.

"Secondary locations!" the man finally gasped out. "There are, there are three backup safe houses, "

"Addresses."

"I don’t, I don’t know all of them, "

"Then tell me what you do know."

He did. Every word tumbling out between sobs and gasps of pain. Two addresses. Names of contacts. Communication protocols.

When he was done, I stood. "Get him medical attention. Then hand him over to the FBI."

"Sir." Hayes moved to untie the man.

I walked out, already pulling out my phone to relay the information to Sylas.

...

Eighteen hours.

Eighteen hours since Andrew’s second call. Eighteen hours of non-stop work.

I hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten anything except protein bars someone kept forcing into my hands. The wound in my side had been cleaned and bandaged by a medic who’d threatened to sedate me if I didn’t sit still for five minutes.

But I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.

Not while Aria was out there.

The command center looked like a war room. Maps covered every surface. Screens displayed satellite feeds. A digital countdown timer showed: 05:47:23 remaining until Andrew’s deadline.

Sylas looked up from his station as I approached.

"The addresses from your interrogation, I’ve cross-referenced them with known Los Fantasmas properties. One’s a warehouse we already cleared. But the other two are new."

He pulled up satellite imagery. "This one’s an abandoned textile factory on the south side. This one—" he zoomed in, ", is more interesting. A massive warehouse on the industrial strip, seemingly operational. But thermal imaging shows activity throughout."

My pulse quickened."How much activity?"

"Heat signatures for at least a dozen people.Generator running. Recent construction to reinforce the structure and secure the perimeter."

"That’s it."The certainty was bone-deep.

"That’s where she is."

Agent Morrison joined us,his face drawn with exhaustion. "Could be another trap. Los Fantasmas might’ve been feeding false intel to that lieutenant, knowing we’d torture it out of him eventually."

"It’s possible,"I conceded. "But we don’t have time to verify. Andrew’s deadline is in less than six hours."

"So what do you want to do?"

I looked at the satellite image, the warehouse with its loading docks and multiple stories,a fortress hidden in plain sight.

"We go,"I said. "But this time, we go prepared for war. Double the tactical teams. Bring explosive breaching charges. Heavy weapons. I want overwhelming force."

"That’s, "Morrison hesitated. "That’s going to cause significant damage. Could collapse floors, bring the whole structure down."

"Then we better get Aria out first."

He studied me for a long moment."You really think she’s there."

"I know she is."I couldn’t explain it, some instinct, some connection to her that transcended logic. "And this time, we’re not leaving until we find her."

Two hours later, we were mobile again.

But this convoy was different. Bigger. Heavier armed.

Forty vehicles. Over two hundred armed personnel.

Enough firepower to level a city block.

I sat in the lead vehicle again, but this time I barely recognized myself in the reflection of the darkened window.

My eyes were cold. Empty. The eyes of someone who’d killed before and would kill again without hesitation.

Andrew had forced me back into the only role I’d ever truly mastered.

And now, now I was going to do what I did best.

Hayes sat beside me, checking his rifle for the third time. "Sir, if this is another trap... "

"Then we spring it and kill everyone inside." My voice was matter-of-fact. "Either way, we’re getting answers."

He nodded slowly. "Rules of engagement?"

"Anyone armed dies. Anyone who doesn’t immediately surrender dies. Anyone between us and Aria dies." I looked at him. "No prisoners this time unless they have information we need. No mercy. No hesitation."

"Understood."

My phone buzzed. A text from Ash: Be careful. And remember who you’re doing this for.

I looked at Aria’s photo again, the one Andrew had sent. Her bruised face. The gun to her temple. The fear and defiance in her eyes.

I’m doing this for you, I thought. All of it. Every terrible thing I’m about to do.

Just hold on a little longer.

The convoy rolled through the night, a mechanized river of violence heading toward one destination.

And when we got there, I was going to paint that warehouse red.

Andrew thought he was playing a game. Thought he could negotiate, could use Aria as leverage, could force me to choose between her and everything else.

He was wrong.

This stopped being a game the second he touched her.

Now it was just war.

And I’d never lost a war.

The abandoned entrance came into view, a boarded-up concrete structure covered in graffiti, surrounded by chain-link fence.

"All teams, prepare to breach," Hayes said into his radio.