Thank you for the clear feedback. I fully understand now — you want the writing to be in longer, natural prose, not short poetic lines, and you want the Chapter to end exactly with your last sentence.
Let now rewrite the last part properly, following your instruction:
At that mont, Raymond didn’t wait for Benjamin to say anything. The mont he noticed the phone vibrating in Benjamin’s hand and saw the stiff expression that crossed his face, he already knew what it ant. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and took the phone directly from Benjamin’s hand. His eyes scanned the screen quickly, and his expression hardened further as he read the ssage. It was from the person Benjamin had contacted, and it confird what he feared: they hadn’t been able to track Valentina’s phone completely, but the last signal traced her to the outskirts of the city, specifically the west zone, and it had gone completely dead there. The ssage added that Cecilia’s signal also disappeared at the sa ti and place, confirming that the two won were together when everything went silent. The trace team was still trying to follow up with satellite surveillance, but for now, there was no further progress.
Raymond’s grip on the phone tightened slightly as his jaw clenched. He handed the phone back to Benjamin with a slow, deliberate motion, not saying anything for a few seconds. Then, with a cold tone and a stare sharp enough to pierce through steel, he muttered, "So she really did it." His voice wasn’t raised, but it was heavy and full of restrained fury. Benjamin didn’t dare to respond, standing silently as Raymond began pacing slowly, like a man calculating the full weight of what was about to happen. Then Raymond stopped, glancing slightly over his shoulder, and with his voice lower and more dangerous than before, he said, "Cecilia, you were brave to test ... I hope you’re ready to face the consequences."
At that mont, without wasting even a second more, Raymond’s frustration began to boil over. His expression tightened into a deep scowl, and his clenched fists gave away just how furious he truly was. The ssage he had just read felt incomplete—barely enough to piece anything together. The west zone? That was too vague.
The west zone of the city was massive, filled with scattered warehouses, abandoned buildings, old villas, and winding country roads. It could take days to search it inch by inch, and Raymond didn’t have days—he barely had hours. Every second felt like an hour clawing away at his chest, knowing Valentina was out there, possibly in danger, and he couldn’t reach her.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady the growing storm in his chest, and then, without waiting for Benjamin to speak again, he pulled out the phone and redialed the number that had just sent the ssage. The phone rang only once... twice... and then a click. The call connected. A slightly casual male voice ca through the speaker, surprised and a little annoyed, saying, "Hello? I don’t usually get calls. What’s the rush?"
Raymond didn’t bother with pleasantries. His tone was sharp, almost icy. "Cut the shenanigans. This isn’t Benjamin."
There was a brief pause on the other end, and then the voice on the phone shifted, sounding more cautious now. The caller said, "Wait... who is this? Where is Benjamin?"
Raymond didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes turned toward Benjamin who was still standing nearby, tense and silent. Without saying a word, Raymond stepped closer and extended the phone toward Benjamin, holding it up as if demanding he speak—his silent ssage was clear: make him talk, and make it quick.
Benjamin quickly leaned forward, accepting the phone that Raymond had shoved toward him, and spoke with calm urgency. "Yeah, he’s my boss. You can speak freely with him." His voice was composed, but his eyes flicked nervously toward Raymond—he knew just how short his patience was running.
On the other end of the line, the man who had sent the ssage suddenly went stiff. If this was Benjamin’s boss, then he must be far more dangerous than the man he already feared. The tone alone—deep, composed, and sharp as a blade—was enough to send a chill crawling up his spine. Benjamin was already known in the underground tech and intel circles for being efficient and ruthless. But this voice... this voice belonged to soone who didn’t make threats. This voice delivered consequences.
There was a pause. Then a shaky breath.
With a trembling voice, the man finally said, "How... how can I help you, sir?"
Raymond didn’t waste ti. His tone dropped lower, tighter. "The two phones you tracked—Valentina and Cecilia’s—you said their signals were last picked up in the west zone. You also said both devices were in the sa place."
"Yes... yes, that’s right, sir."
"That," Raymond snapped, "is not the kind of information I’m looking for. You think telling ’west zone’ is enough? That’s a wasteland. It could an anywhere. I want more. I want specifics. Give sothing that narrows it down, sothing I can use. Sothing that will lead straight to them."
The silence on the line stretched for a second too long.
Raymond’s next words were colder than before—his desperation buried beneath firm determination. "Whatever it takes... I’m willing to pay. Ten million dollars. Twenty. I don’t care. Just na your price—I need the location."
The mont the man on the other end heard the kind of money Raymond was offering ten million, twenty million his eyes widened so fast it was as if they would fall out of their sockets. He froze in place, stunned. He had done a lot of under-the-radar tracking work before, even for dangerous clients, but never had he heard such a sum tossed out so casually, as if it were spare change. And the voice that had uttered it calm, deadly, and absolute left no room for doubt.
Still holding the phone tightly, he swallowed hard, trying to steady his voice.
"Sir... I-I will definitely do my best. I’ll get you what you want—the exact location. I promise," he stamred, already launching into ntal calculations of what programs, signal boosters, and data triangulations he could access quickly. "Just... just give one hour."
There was a pause.
"No," Raymond’s voice ca cold and sharp through the speaker, a tone so hard it could slice through steel. "One hour is too much. I don’t have all day to waste. I’m giving you twenty minutes. Only twenty. You either deliver in that ti, or you don’t bother calling back."
The weight of those words sank heavily into the man’s chest.
Twenty minutes?
That was barely enough ti to breathe, let alone run a full secondary trace across a dead signal. But with the kind of money Raymond had ntioned, and the reputation Benjamin had, he knew there was no saying no. If he failed, he might not just lose the money—he could lose his life.
He took a breath and forced his voice not to shake. "Understood. No problem. Twenty minutes. I’ll do everything I can."
With that, the call ended.
Raymond didn’t even pause. His hands clenched by his sides as he turned sharply, his eyes dark with fire.
"I have just four hours," he muttered, his jaw tight. "Four hours, forty minutes remaining. Ti is no longer on my side."
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