As Daemon's private jet touched down in Mexico, the intensity in his gaze seemed to sharpen, his mind zeroed in on one thing: finding Aurora.
He'd already set everything in motion.
As soon as he stepped off the jet, his men, who had been waiting and tracking her captors, approached.
One of them gave him a quick nod and whispered, "Sir, we've traced the women to a cabin out by a lake. It's remote, guarded, but we're ready."
Daemon barely blinked, but a deadly spark lit up his eyes.
He glanced over to Tristan, who was equally focused.
They exchanged a look, and Tristan's jaw clenched. "Let's go," was all he said.
They both knew the mission was simple: find her, and anyone who stood in their way wouldn't make it out.
Their convoy sped across the dusty, winding roads that led out of the city and into the countryside.
Daemon sat in the lead car, his thoughts racing, every second stretching painfully long.
