William Vance stood at the window of his mansion, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. The call about Isabelle Ashworth's kidnapping had shaken him more than he cared to admit. Sothing was shifting in Havenwood City, sothing dark and dangerous.
"Sir?" His butler appeared at the door. "Your car is ready."
William nodded, his expression solemn. "I'm leaving for my country estate. I need so distance from... whatever is about to happen here."
"Wise choice, sir. Should I inform anyone of your departure?"
"No," William said firmly. "Let them think I'm still in the city. It's safer that way."
As his car pulled away from his mansion, William couldn't shake the image of Liam Knight's face when he received that call—the transformation from composed businessman to sothing altogether more primal and dangerous.
---
Sebastian Hawthorne's hand trembled as he pushed open the door to his study. The dinner with Knight had been stressful enough, but the news about Isabelle Ashworth's kidnapping had sent a chill through his bones. Sothing felt wrong—terribly wrong.
"Father! You're finally ho."
Sebastian froze at the sound of his son's voice. Julian was lounging in his leather chair, feet propped on the mahogany desk, swirling brandy in one of Sebastian's crystal glasses.
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"Julian," Sebastian said cautiously. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the hospital?"
Julian laughed, the sound unnervingly sharp in the quiet room. "I'm feeling much better today. Must be all the excitent."
"Excitent?" Sebastian moved slowly into the room, sothing in his son's deanor putting him on edge.
Julian's smile widened. "Haven't you heard? The city's absolutely buzzing with the news. Isabelle Ashworth has been kidnapped." He took another sip of brandy, his eyes gleaming. "Quite shocking, isn't it?"
Sebastian felt his blood run cold. "Julian... what have you done?"
"What you never had the courage to do," Julian replied, standing up. "I've taken control of our future."
"Tell you're not involved in this," Sebastian demanded, his voice barely above a whisper.
Julian's smile was triumphant. "It was perfect, Father. Flawless execution. By the ti anyone figures it out, the Ashworths will be ruined, and we'll have everything we want."
The slap echoed through the study. Julian staggered backward, his hand flying to his reddened cheek as he stared at his father in shock.
"You fool!" Sebastian hissed. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Who you've provoked?"
"I've secured our position!" Julian shouted back. "The Ashworth girl was becoming too influential. Her connection with Knight threatened everything—"
"Knight?" Sebastian laughed bitterly. "I just watched that man receive the news about her kidnapping. The look in his eyes..." He shuddered. "He's going to tear this city apart, and he won't stop until he finds her."
"Let him try," Julian scoffed. "The trail leads directly to Gideon Blackwood. That pathetic excuse for a businessman will take the fall while we profit from the chaos."
Sebastian grabbed his son by the shoulders. "We need to leave the city. Tonight. Pack only what you need."
"Leave? Are you insane? This is our mont!"
"This is our downfall if we stay!" Sebastian shouted. "But first, we need to silence Blackwood permanently. He can't be allowed to talk when they find him."
Julian's eyes widened. "You want to—"
"You started this. You'll finish it," Sebastian said coldly. "Make it look like suicide. A man overco with guilt after his desperate plan went wrong."
As Julian left the room, Sebastian collapsed into his chair, wondering how it had all gone so terribly wrong.
---
I burst through the doors of the Ashworth estate, my heart hamring against my ribs. The normally immaculate entrance hall was in chaos—security personnel rushing back and forth, phones ringing constantly, voices raised in urgent conversation.
A middle-aged woman with tear-streaked cheeks rushed toward . "Mr. Knight! Thank goodness you're here."
"Where's Michael Ashworth?" I demanded, barely containing my rage.
"At the police station," she replied. "I'm Miss Ashworth's personal secretary. She—she spoke of you often."
My chest tightened. "Tell everything. Leave nothing out."
She led to a small office, away from the commotion. "It happened so quickly. Three vehicles, professional team. They intercepted her car just outside the gates."
"Where were her bodyguards?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.
The secretary's face crumpled. "That's why I needed to speak with you privately. Miss Ashworth... she reassigned them all yesterday."
I frowned. "Reassigned where?"
"To you, Mr. Knight." Her voice hardened with accusation. "She was concerned about threats against you after the incident at the auction. She diverted her entire security detail to watch over you from a distance."
The revelation hit like a physical blow. Isabelle had left herself vulnerable—for . The weight of it nearly brought to my knees.
"I need to see her room," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.
"Her grandfather left strict instructions that no one—"
"I don't care what her grandfather said," I interrupted, my patience evaporating. "Isabelle has been taken because she tried to protect . I will find her, but I need sothing of hers first."
The secretary studied my face, then nodded reluctantly. "Follow ."
Isabelle's bedroom was elegant yet practical, just like her. A faint trace of her perfu lingered in the air, making my chest ache with longing and fear. What was she enduring right now? Was she hurt? Terrified?
"Could you leave alone for a mont?" I asked the secretary.
When the door closed behind her, I moved to Isabelle's dresser and began searching through her things. I needed sothing deeply personal—sothing carrying her essence.
My fingers found what I was looking for: her hairbrush. I carefully extracted a single strand of her dark hair and held it up to the light.
What I was about to do was dangerous. The technique was forbidden for good reason—it required blood sacrifice from the practitioner. But I had no choice. Every minute Isabelle remained missing was another minute she might be suffering.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, placed the strand of hair in my palm, and withdrew a small knife from my pocket. Without hesitation, I sliced open my left palm, letting the blood pool around Isabelle's hair.
"Blood seeks blood, essence calls to essence," I whispered, beginning the ancient tracking ritual I'd discovered in my father's texts. "Reveal what is hidden, show what is lost."
Pain shot through my body as the ritual began drawing on my life force. My vision blurred, and sweat beaded on my forehead. This technique could kill an unprepared practitioner—it was consuming my energy at an alarming rate.
But suddenly, I saw it—a vision of Isabelle. She was unconscious, lying on a cold stone floor. Around her were strange symbols carved into the walls. I recognized the location: an abandoned temple in the northern outskirts of the city, a place rumored to have been used for dark rituals centuries ago.
I broke the connection with a gasp, nearly collapsing forward. Blood trickled from my nose, and my hands trembled uncontrollably. The technique had taken more from than I expected, but it had worked.
The door opened, and the secretary rushed in. "Mr. Knight! You're bleeding!"
I struggled to my feet, wiping the blood from my nose with the back of my hand. "I've found her."
"How? What did you do to yourself?" Her eyes were wide with shock and fear.
"That doesn't matter," I said, moving toward the door despite my weakened state. My vision was still swimming, but determination drove forward. "I know where Isabelle is being held."
"You need dical attention—"
"What I need is to get to her before it's too late," I cut in sharply.
The secretary fell silent, watching with a mixture of concern and awe.
I paused at the doorway, turning back to her with eyes I knew were filled with cold, deadly purpose. "I have found Miss Ashworth's location. I will bring her back safely."
Without another word, I strode from the room, from the house, into the night. The ritual had weakened physically, but it had crystallized my resolve. Soone had taken Isabelle—my Isabelle—thinking they could use her as a pawn in their gas.
They were about to learn how fatal that mistake would be.
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