The following morning, Gabe didn't waste any time. He had barely finished his coffee before he was already in motion. As the consigliere of the Ortega family, his day was always packed with work, but today was different. Today, he was stepping into unknown territory.
He knew the streets of Manila better than most, and when he needed information, he went straight to the source—the people who knew the underworld. But Rafael Morales wasn't just some street thug or petty criminal. The man had connections, and he had worked closely with the Ortega family in the past. That made him both a danger and a valuable piece of the puzzle.
Gabe walked into his office, his eyes scanning the room for his next move. His thoughts kept drifting back to Celeste and the way she had looked at him, asking for his help. The trust in her eyes wasn't something he had expected from someone like her. Maybe that was why he couldn't stop thinking about it.
"Focus," he muttered to himself. He had a job to do.
He reached for his phone, dialing a number he hadn't used in months. The voice on the other end was gruff, familiar, and skeptical.
"What is it, Gabe?" the man said.
"I need a favor," Gabe replied, his tone direct. "I need you to find out everything you can about a man named Rafael Morales."
There was a long pause before the voice spoke again. "Morales? He's a ghost, Gabe. Ain't nobody seen him in years."
"I don't care about the rumors," Gabe said, tightening his grip on the phone. "Find him."
Another pause, this one longer than the last. "Alright, but you owe me."
"Consider it a long-term investment," Gabe said before hanging up. He couldn't afford to waste time on details. He had to find Morales—fast.
As the day wore on, Gabe began piecing together a plan. He reached out to his contacts in the city—people who could move through the shadows without drawing attention. They would be his eyes and ears, watching the streets, listening to the whispers.
But there was one problem: Celeste's father, Esteban Ortega, didn't know Gabe was investigating Rafael. The patriarch wasn't someone who liked surprises, especially when it came to his family's business. Gabe would have to keep this search under wraps, which meant walking a fine line between his loyalty to the Ortega family and his growing curiosity about Celeste's request.
The weight of the situation settled heavily on Gabe's shoulders, but he didn't have the luxury of second-guessing himself. He had made a promise to Celeste, and for the first time in a long time, he intended to keep it.
That evening, Gabe drove out to a quieter part of Manila, away from the bustling city center. This was where the real work happened—where deals were made in the shadows, and information flowed like water.
He parked his car in front of a small, nondescript building. The place was a front, but it was one of the best in the city when it came to finding people who didn't want to be found. Gabe stepped out of the car, adjusting the collar of his jacket as he approached the door.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with smoke and low conversation. A few heads turned as Gabe walked in, but no one dared to speak out of turn. He wasn't just a guest here—he was a regular, someone who had earned respect in this part of town.
The man behind the counter, a broad-shouldered bartender with a scar running down his cheek, nodded as Gabe approached. "Gabe," he said with a slight smirk. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"Business," Gabe replied curtly. He didn't have time for pleasantries. "I need information. Rafael Morales."
The bartender's expression shifted. "Morales? You sure you wanna go down that road? The man's trouble."
"I don't care about trouble," Gabe said, his voice cold. "I need to know where he is. Now."
The bartender sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I can give you a name. But that's all you're gonna get. Morales doesn't just disappear without a reason. You dig too deep, you might end up in the same hole."
Gabe leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing. "I don't care about the risks. I just need him found."
With a reluctant nod, the bartender scribbled a name on a napkin. "I don't know where he is, but I heard this name mentioned in connection with him. Ria Mendoza. You'll find her at a place called The Vault. It's not a place for anyone who wants to stay anonymous, but it's your best shot."
"Thanks," Gabe said, tossing a few bills onto the counter before turning to leave.
He stepped back into the night air, the name "Ria Mendoza" echoing in his mind. He wasn't sure what the connection was, but he knew this was just the beginning. If Rafael Morales was still alive, and if he was involved with people like Ria Mendoza, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.
The next evening, Gabe found himself standing in front of a club called The Vault. It was a high-end, exclusive place where the city's wealthiest—and most dangerous—came to play. But tonight, Gabe wasn't here for the party. He was here to get answers.
He walked past the velvet ropes, his presence enough to make the bouncers step aside without question. Inside, the club was pulsing with music, lights flashing in time with the beat. The crowd was a mix of high society and the underworld, all of them pretending to be someone else for the night.
Gabe's eyes scanned the room, looking for Ria Mendoza. He didn't know what she looked like, but he knew she'd be important. He couldn't afford to waste time or make mistakes.
A woman caught his eye, sitting alone at the bar. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her sharp gaze met his across the room. She was the kind of woman who didn't need to say a word to command attention.
Gabe approached her cautiously, not sure whether to trust his gut or question his instincts.
"Ria Mendoza?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.
The woman smiled, a slow, almost mocking smile. "I wondered when you'd show up, Gabe."
To Be Continued...