Elena's boots splashed through shallow puddles as she walked away from Inferno, the photograph clutched tightly in her hand. The city's neon glow blurred in the rain, streaking the streets with colors that felt surreal against the storm brewing in her mind.
Mia was alive. That much was clear. But the fear in her sister's eyes haunted her. What had she gotten herself into? And why did Lucian Dante care enough to help?
She glanced down at the photograph again. The address on the back wasn't far, a warehouse in the industrial district. She could be there in twenty minutes if she hurried.
But as much as she wanted to rush, she forced herself to stop. Charging in blindly wouldn't help Mia—and it might get her killed. Lucian's warning echoed in her mind: *You'll need luck.*
Elena ducked into a nearby diner, the bell above the door jingling as she entered. The warm air inside was a welcome contrast to the cold rain outside. She slid into a booth near the back, ordered a coffee, and spread the photograph and envelope out on the table.
The waitress, a woman in her forties with tired eyes, set the coffee down with a faint smile. "Rough night?"
"You could say that," Elena muttered, offering a weak smile in return.
As the waitress walked away, Elena focused on the photograph. Mia looked thinner than she remembered, her once-bright eyes shadowed by something darker. The warehouse loomed behind her, its windows boarded up and graffiti scrawled across its walls.
Elena flipped the photo over again, studying the address. She pulled out her phone and typed it into a map app. The location was in one of the city's roughest neighborhoods, a place even the police avoided after dark.
Her coffee sat untouched as she considered her next move. She needed backup, someone who knew the area and could help if things went south. But the only person who fit that description was the last person she wanted to call.
Her thumb hovered over Lucian Dante's number, saved in her phone under "Devil."
She took a deep breath and pressed call.
It rang twice before his voice came through, smooth and unbothered. "Miss Hayes. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."
"I need more information," she said, skipping the pleasantries. "About this address."
A pause. She could almost hear the smirk in his voice when he replied. "I thought you didn't make blind deals."
"Don't start," she snapped. "If you want me to do this favor, I need to stay alive long enough to deliver."
"Fair point." His tone turned serious. "The warehouse belongs to a group called the Black Veil. They're not your average criminals—they deal in secrets, leverage, and occasionally, people. If Mia was seen there, she's either working with them or being used by them."
Elena's stomach turned. "And you're telling me this now?"
"You didn't ask," he said simply. "Do you have a plan?"
"Not yet."
"Then I suggest you listen carefully. The Black Veil doesn't take kindly to intrusions. You'll need to be subtle—and fast. There's a side entrance on the west side of the building. It's less guarded, but you'll still need to watch your back."
"Why are you helping me?" she asked, her voice low.
Lucian chuckled softly. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in keeping you alive. For now."
The line went dead before she could respond.
Elena stared at her phone, a mix of frustration and unease bubbling in her chest. She drained her coffee, left a tip on the table, and stepped back into the rain.
The warehouse loomed in the distance, its silhouette stark against the night sky. Elena parked a block away and approached on foot, sticking to the shadows. The streets were eerily quiet, the only sounds the distant hum of traffic and the occasional drip of water from a broken gutter.
She circled the building, finding the west entrance Lucian had mentioned. It was a metal door, rusted at the edges, with a single security camera mounted above it. Elena pulled her hood low and waited until the camera panned away before slipping inside.
The air inside was damp and heavy, carrying the scent of mildew and oil. The faint hum of voices reached her ears, muffled by the walls. She moved carefully, her steps silent on the concrete floor.
Ahead, a faint light spilled from an open doorway. Elena crept closer, peeking around the corner.
The room beyond was a makeshift office, cluttered with papers, maps, and monitors displaying security feeds. Two men stood by the desk, their conversation low but heated.
"She's more trouble than she's worth," one of them said, slamming a fist on the desk. "If Dante finds out—"
"Dante doesn't know," the other interrupted. "And he won't, unless you screw this up."
Elena's heart raced. They were talking about Lucian—and possibly Mia.
She ducked back into the shadows, her mind racing. She needed to find Mia and get out before things escalated.
But as she turned to leave, her foot brushed against a loose piece of metal, sending it clattering to the floor.
The voices in the office stopped.
"Did you hear that?"
Elena's pulse thundered in her ears as footsteps approached. She pressed herself against the wall, her breathing shallow.
A figure appeared in the doorway, a flashlight cutting through the darkness.
Elena acted on instinct, grabbing a nearby wrench and swinging it with all her strength. The man crumpled to the ground, his flashlight skittering across the floor.
Shouts erupted from the office.
Elena didn't wait to see what happened next. She ran, her heart pounding as she navigated the maze-like warehouse.
She burst into a large storage area, her eyes scanning the rows of crates and machinery. And then she saw her.
Mia was sitting on the floor, her hands bound and her face pale. Her eyes widened when she saw Elena.
"Elena?" Mia's voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Elena rushed to her side, pulling a pocketknife from her coat to cut the ropes. "I'm here. We're getting out of here."
But before she could finish, a voice rang out behind her.
"Not so fast."
Elena turned to see a tall man in a leather jacket, a gun trained on her.
"Step away from her," he said, his tone calm but deadly.
Elena's mind raced. She tightened her grip on the knife, her body tense.
And then, from the shadows, another voice.
"I'd suggest you lower that weapon."
Lucian Dante stepped into the light, his expression cold and dangerous.
The man's eyes widened. "Dante—"
Lucian didn't let him finish. In a blur of motion, he disarmed the man and knocked him unconscious.
Elena stared, her chest heaving. "What are you doing here?"
Lucian met her gaze, his amber eyes glinting. "Keeping my investment alive."
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