anwhile, Roseline’s car rolled to a stop on a narrow street in the Crossroad locality.
Her sharp eyes scanned the surroundings through the tinted window, but beneath that composed gaze flickered a hint of unease. She drew in a slow breath before stepping out.
The air was heavy with dust and the faint scent of rust. Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she took in the cracked pavents, the faded signboards, and the rows of cramped, neglected buildings.
"So this is the place..." she muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. "How am I supposed to find where he lives? This neighborhood looks like it’s been forgotten by civilization."
For a mont, disgust flickered in her expression. But then, she rembered Collin’s threat — the warning that still echoed in her mind — and her disdain gave way to grim resolve.
Her jaw tightened. No matter how low I have to stoop, this ends today.
Closing the car door behind her, Roseline turned to her driver. "Stay here," she ordered curtly. The man nodded without question.
With a deep breath, she adjusted her coat, lifted her chin, and began walking deeper into the narrow lane.
She had only one goal — to negotiate with Collin. To reach a middle ground before things spiraled out of control. But to do that, she had to find him first.
Pulling out her phone, Roseline dialed a number. "Did you locate where he stays?" she asked, glancing around, her eyes darting between the shadowed doorways and peeling walls.
"Yes, ma’am," her inforr replied quickly. "I’ll forward the exact address now."
"Good," she said curtly, hanging up.
Seconds later, her phone buzzed with a ssage. She opened it, scanning the text before glancing up at the faded street sign.
"Lane 3..." she murmured. "So I’m on the right track."
Her heels clicked lightly against the uneven ground as she continued forward, the noise of the city fading behind her.
After several turns, she stopped in front of a small, weathered house with its paint chipped, its windows half-covered with old curtains.
Her heart gave a small, involuntary flutter of nerves. But she steadied herself, exhaling slowly.
You’ve co this far, Roseline. No turning back now.
Bracing herself, she reached for the doorbell and pressed it several tis, each chi echoing faintly through the quiet street.
Then she waited — every passing second stretching thin as her pulse quickened.
"Yes, who do you want?"
Roseline froze at the voice.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the young woman standing before her. For a mont, confusion clouded her expression — and then realization dawned.
This wasn’t Collin.
The woman, or rather girl, looked barely in her twenties, her face pale and drawn, as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her wary eyes t Roseline’s, unreadable but sharp.
Roseline blinked, her composure faltering. "Oh— I... I’m sorry," she stamred, forcing a polite smile. "I must have the wrong house."
The girl didn’t reply, only tilted her head slightly as if studying her.
Feeling her nerves spike, Roseline quickly turned and hurried back toward her car, her heels clicking against the pavent.
But what she didn’t realize — what she couldn’t realize — was that she had indeed found the right house.
Only the man she was searching for wasn’t ho.
Behind the closed door, Kira smirked faintly as she watched Roseline disappear down the narrow lane. Pulling out her phone, she dialed a number and lifted it to her ear.
"She was here," Kira said softly, glancing out the window. "You were right."
On the other end of the line, Collin exhaled a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling in the air around him. From where he stood — hidden at a distance — he could see Roseline’s car parked at the end of the street.
"Good," he said, his voice smooth and low. "Now be quick and leave my place. You know what to do next."
Kira nodded once. "Understood." She ended the call and slipped back into the house.
Collin watched as Roseline reappeared, flustered and visibly uneasy, before rushing into her car.
He stood there silently, the faint glow of his cigarette the only thing visible in the dim light.
As the car pulled away and disappeared from view, a slow, knowing smile curved his lips.
Only then did he drop the cigarette and crush it beneath his boot before turning down the lane — heading ho.
***
Inside the car, Roseline’s voice echoed sharp and furious.
"What kind of address did you even give ?" she snapped, talking on phone. "It was soone elses"
Her inforr’s startled voice crackled through the line, trying to explain, "Ma’am, I—I double-checked the location—"
But she didn’t let him finish. "Save your excuses," she hissed, and ended the call with a furious tap of her finger.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Roseline threw the phone onto the seat beside her and leaned back, fuming. Failure wasn’t sothing she tolerated not from others, and certainly not from herself.
She clenched her fists, staring out the window as frustration simred beneath her skin. Just when she thought she’d finally found the man responsible for her sleepless nights — the man who dared to threaten her, everything had unraveled again.
"Just how am I supposed to find you, Collin?" she muttered under her breath, her voice tight with anger.
But before she could collect her thoughts, her phone buzzed again.
The sound cut through the stillness of the car, freezing her in place.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she stared at the screen — and when she saw the number flashing there, her breath hitched. The sa number. The sa one she’d been trying to trace for weeks.
Without thinking, she answered.
"Good attempt, Roseline," ca a low, smooth voice from the other end — calm, almost mocking. "But let warn you... I’ll only et you when I want to. Not when you do."
Her pulse spiked, anger and fear colliding inside her chest. "Collin—" she stuttered, the na slipping out before she could stop herself.
But there was no reply.
Only silence.
Then a click.
The line went dead — taking with it all the words she’d ant to say, and leaving her staring at the screen, her reflection pale and furious against the dark glass.
Roseline lowered the phone slowly, her knuckles white.
He was watching her.
He knew.
And that realization was far more terrifying than being unable to find him.
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