Then, with a sudden burst of adrenaline, she ended the call, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, and pressed harder on the accelerator. The car roared forward, eating up the stretch of highway.Bruno leaned back in his seat, adjusting the earpiece in his ear. His gaze never left her taillights as he muttered under his breath, “Island, warehouse by the river. Good.”He eased the wheel, letting her speed ahead just enough to feel free, while his own presence lingered in the shadows. The hunt wasn’t about catching her now—it was about letting her lead him straight to Dexter.The sound of the engine filled the silence inside Amaya's car, but her mind wasn’t quiet. Every nerve in her body screamed danger, yet she forced herself to relax her shoulders and keep her eyes on the road.She replayed Dexter’s words in her head.‘Just to be on the safer side.’That was classic Dexter—always thinking two steps ahead, always planning. But still… if he changed locations, did that mean he alread

“As long as you have his lover Amaya, Dexter would come around. What I do need.. is a death with no questions.” Then he ended the call, leaving Byron tongued-tied. He thought it was wise to keep Dexter's lover, but he didn't think to kill the young man, but with the order, he had no choice.The silence after the call was heavy, full of clock ticks and breath. Byron stood in the doorway for a moment, a figure in a suit against the softer shapes of the room, then he crossed the floor and spoke like a man closing a ledger.He walks over to meet Roy and Amaya then he instructs his men to take her upstairs, tie her and make sure they keep their eyes on her because she's very corny. Then Amaya is dragged upstairs, leaving just Roy and Byron in his living room. Roy was handcuffed both his legs and wrist.The men moved like practiced cogs—efficient, unhurried. Amaya’s footsteps as they hauled her up the staircase were a measured series of thuds; she spat and fought, then went quiet as restrai

Bella nodded, her face pale but resolved. Bruno reached for her arm and guided her out. The door clicked shut as if the house itself had decided on silence.Later, in a room above the house where wealth masked cruelty, Bella sat with Byron, his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair as if soothing something in herself as much as him.“Who was shouting earlier?” she asked carefully, watching his face for the truth.Byron’s jaw worked. He watched her with the habitual distance men like him kept—an instinct to hold back anything that might compromise that power.When she noticed his hesitation, she cupped his face and kissed him and said, “I guess till this moment, you don't love me well enough to trust me and I understand.”Her words landed soft and honest. The kiss was a small plea.“Of course I trust you. It's just.. anything I'm not telling you is because of your own good. I'm trying to protect you.” Byron tells her.He tried to make protection sound like love. There w

When the car stopped, Amaya stepped out along with the rest of the maid, but she quickly blended into the crowd of people by the sidewalk. Without looking back, she ran as fast as she could. She tore the maid's outfit as she ran, leaving just a sleeveless top and shorts to cover her body.She ran and ran until she couldn't.Everywhere was dark, cold and quiet, but she mustered up and managed to get to a street landline. Then she quickly dialed a number and pressed the phone to her ears.She took a deep breath, her chest heaving as she tried the number for more than 5 times but no one was picking up.“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” She muttered, running her fingers through her hair with an exhausted look. She looked over her shoulders, scanning the area with fear.. fear not to be seen or get in trouble with the street hoodlums.It was late in the night and no one was out.If anything happens to her in this spot, then how would she save herself? She was already too weak to speak, too weak

Byron stood there, the phone pressed against his ear though the call already ended. The silence was deafening.His lungs fought for air. His jaw clenched so hard it ached. Slowly, he lowered the phone, his hand trembling—not with weakness, but with the kind of fury and dread that made even the hardest men quake.Then, in a burst of violence, Byron hurled the phone across the room. It shattered against the wall.“FIND HER!” His roar shook the walls, his voice thundering with a primal ferocity that made the guards flinch. He pointed his gun at the men nearest him, eyes blazing with both terror and wrath. “Turn this place upside down! Tear the floors open if you have to! If we don’t bring her out in three minutes, my sons..” His voice broke, just for a heartbeat, before hardening again. “..my sons are dead.”His chest heaved, sweat breaking along his brow. Fear gripped him like a vice, but it only fueled the savagery in his command.No one had ever seen Byron Wilson like this—powerful, c