He moved to the control panel, yanking off the cover. A tangle of colored wires, a jumble of circuits. He didn’t have tools. He didn’t have time. His eyes scanned the mess, finding the primary power conduit, a thick, insulated cable feeding the overloading mechanism. It was a stupid, crude design, meant for spectacle, not subtlety. A mistake.

He ripped the pistol from its holster, flipped it, and with a single, precise motion, smashed the grip against the conduit. Plastic and metal shattered. Sparks flew, and the hum of the generator stuttered, then died, replaced by a sizzling, acrid smell of burnt wiring.

Silence.

He bought himself time. But he was still in a box.

He holstered the ruined pistol and turned back to the door, running his hands over the seamless surface. No hinges on this side. No lock. Just solid steel. His eyes, now adjusting to the sliver of light from under the door, scanned the frame. There. A hairline fracture around the locking mechanism. A weak point.

He braced himself, took a deep breath, and drove the heel of his boot into the spot with all the force he could muster. The steel groaned. Pain shot up his leg, but he ignored it, striking it again, and again, a rhythmic, punishing assault. The metal buckled. One more powerful kick, and the locking mechanism tore free from the frame, clattering to the floor.

He shoved the door open and burst into the corridor, pulling out his secondary phone. No signal. The concrete and steel of this labyrinth were a perfect shield.

He started to head out the warehouse when he noticed someone bent by the side. He quietly crept closer and on closer inspection realized the person was the masked man in the video Ophelia had sent.

And he seemed to be putting the finishing touches to a homemade bomb.

Levi realized that their plan had been to trap him and blow up the place.

Nobody would have found his body after. He would have been pronounced missing and after a few years they would have declared him dead.

He realized that Ophelia had thought about everything.

Levi’s mind was cold and clear. He was no longer just trying to escape; he was hunting.

The masked man, Jon, had just finished securing the detonator and was straightening up, oblivious. Levi moved, a phantom in the gloom. He covered the ten feet between them in three silent strides. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

The first strike was to the back of the neck, aimed to incapacitate. Jon grunted, stumbling forward, but he was tough. He twisted, swinging a wild, clumsy punch. Levi ducked under it, driving his elbow up into the man’s jaw. There was a sickening crunch of bone. Jon staggered back, his hands flying to his face, but Levi wasn’t finished. He followed up with a brutal kick to the man’s knee, buckling his leg. As Jon went down, Levi grabbed him by the hair, slammed his head against the concrete wall with enough force to knock him unconscious but not kill him.

He stripped the man of his weapons and his phone. A quick check of the contacts revealed only one number, labeled simply ’Mistress’. He pocketed the device.

He left the bomb where it was, a silent, deadly promise for whoever came to investigate later. Right now, it was just another piece of Ophelia’s wreckage to navigate.

He ran, his memory of the building’s schematics guiding him through the maze of tunnels. He didn’t head for the main entrance, the one Ophelia would be monitoring. He headed for the service exit, a forgotten portal that opened onto a trash-strewn alley three blocks away.

He burst out into the damp, evening air, the stench of refuse and the distant river filling his lungs. Freedom. But it tasted like ash.

He pulled out the phone he’d taken from Jon and dialed the only number in it. It rang once.

"Is it done?" Ophelia’s voice was crisp, expectant.

Levi did not say anything, he simply ended the call and hoped that he had enough time to reach Lyse.

He broke into a dead sprint, his body screaming in protest, his mind a singular, burning focus: Pier 12.

*****

Inside the warehouse, Lyse’s steps were loud on the dusty concrete.

"Come out, Ophelia!" Lyse’s voice echoed, bouncing off the steel walls. "You wanted me here. I’m here. Let the girl go."

"Patience, my dear," Ophelia’s voice echoed back, seeming to come from everywhere at once. "All good things come to those who wait."

A spotlight suddenly flared to life high above, illuminating a section of the metal catwalks. There she was. Ophelia, dressed in a flowing, crimson dress that looked wildly out of place in the industrial decay. And beside her, held by the arm, was a terrified little girl in a yellow dress. Lily.

Lyse’s heart lurched. "Let her go, Ophelia! This is between us."

"Oh, but it’s not," Ophelia called back, her smile sharp and brittle. "It never was. Did Ken tell you about the present I sent him? A little trip down memory lane. He’s always been so emotional, easy to bait."

"Yet, you are the one going around kidnapping innocent children!" Lyse shot back, her mind racing.

"Doesn’t matter," Ophelia sighed dramatically. "I know he’s here. That’s all that matters. And poor Bella. So loyal. So... expendable." She raised a small, silver device in her hand. "You see this? It can trigger a few little surprises I’ve left around the warehouse for your man. One press, and... boom."

Ken’s voice was a calm, steady whisper in Lyse’s ear. "Don’t engage. Keep her talking. We’re moving."

Lyse took a steadying breath. "You think this makes you powerful? Hiding behind a child? Trapping people in a warehouse? You’re pathetic, Ophelia. You’re just a sad, lonely woman who never got over the fact that nobody ever truly loved you."

The words hit their mark. The perfect smile on Ophelia’s face faltered, replaced by a flash of pure venom. "You know nothing about me! I had everything! And your mother, with her self-righteousness... she took it all!"

"She tried to love you despite everything!" Lyse retorted, her courage surging.

From her vantage point in the SUV, Bella watched the scene unfold on a tablet linked to Jax’s contact. "Echo, I’ve got movement on the east side," she said into her microphone, her voice tight with tension. "Two men, armed, heading towards Lyse’s position."

"Copy that, Comms," Echo’s voice replied instantly. "They’re shadowing her. Flanking both sides."

Before Echo could say more, a new, furious voice crackled over their shared channel, raw and unfiltered. "Bella. Ken. Where is she?"

Levi.

Bella gasped. "Levi! How are you on this channel?"

"I took a phone. Now, where is Lyse?" The question was a command, laced with a terrifying urgency.

"She’s in the warehouse, Levi," Bella said, her own fear momentarily forgotten. "She went to face Ophelia."

There was a guttural curse on the other end. "I’m two minutes out. Tell me everything."

Bella relayed the situation in a torrent of words, her gaze glued to the screen.

Inside the warehouse, Ophelia’s attention was entirely on Lyse. She hadn’t noticed the silent, predatory shapes moving through the canyons of shipping containers. Shadows among shadows, had circled around, flanking Ophelia’s position.

"Time’s up, Lyse," Ophelia sneered, raising the silver device. "Say goodbye to your friends."

"Echo, now!" Lyse screamed, ducking behind a stack of wooden pallets.

The men opened fire, the sharp cracks of their pistols echoing through the vast space. Sparks flew from the metal railing next to Ophelia. She shrieked in fury and surprise, ducking behind a metal crate, pulling the screaming Lily with her.

The two men Echo had spotted burst from behind a container, firing wildly towards Lyse’s position. But before they could get a clean shot, another figure detached itself from the darkness. Jax. He moved with a fluid economy of motion that belied his size. Two shots, two silenced coughs from his rifle, and both men were down.

It was the distraction Lyse needed. She sprinted, not towards cover, but towards a metal staircase that led up to the catwalks. Her only goal was Lily.

"Lyse, no! Fall back!" Ken yelled into his comm.

But she didn’t listen. Her blood was up, the memory of her mother a battle cry in her soul. She was halfway up the stairs when Ophelia popped up from behind the crate, a wild, manic look in her eyes. She fired, not at Lyse, but at the staircase.

A bullet ricocheted off the metal step inches from Lyse’s foot, the whine of it impossibly loud. She stumbled, nearly falling, her heart hammering against her ribs.He didn’t need Rex. He knew where he had to go. He began to run, his feet pounding a frantic, desperate beat against the concrete floor.