Moris Sinclair stood in the street, smoke still thick in the air, watching Julian Roth disappear into the night.
The bastard had planned this.
He knew they were coming.
He had set the trap.
And he had nearly killed them all.
Moris's jaw tightened. Enough.
Julian wanted to play with fire?
Then Moris would burn him to the ground.
The Message
Back at Sinclair Tower, the team regrouped. Leo had bandaged his arm where shrapnel had cut him. Sarah paced the room, restless. Damian Voss, still shaken, sat in the corner, an ice pack pressed to his head.
Moris stood at the head of the table, silent.
Then, his phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
He answered.
"Enjoy the fireworks, Sinclair?"
Julian.
Moris's fingers tightened around the phone. "You really think this ends with you winning?"
A chuckle. Cold. Cruel.
"I already won," Julian said. "You're playing defense, Moris. Always reacting. While I'm three steps ahead."
Moris exhaled sharply, controlling his anger. "You're running out of places to hide."
Julian ignored him. "You took my empire. You humiliated me. So now, I'm going to take something from you. Something… irreplaceable."
Moris's blood turned to ice.
Julian's voice dropped to a whisper.
"And this time, you won't stop me."
Click.
The call ended.
Silence.
Then Leo cursed. "We need to move. Now."
Moris looked at Isabel. His greatest weakness.
And now, she was Julian's next target.
The Hunt Begins
They didn't wait. Within an hour, Isabel was moved to an undisclosed safe house—one of Moris's most guarded properties.
Security was doubled. Triple-checked.
"Nobody gets in," Moris told the guards. "Nobody."
But even as he gave the order, unease coiled in his gut.
Because Julian always had a way in.
Julian's Next Move
That night, Moris received another message.
A single text.
From Julian.
Check the rooftop.
Heart pounding, Moris grabbed his gun and ran.
When he reached the top of the building, he froze.
Blood.
A body.
One of his guards, throat slit, lying at the edge of the rooftop.
And next to him—
A burning envelope.
Moris rushed forward, stomping out the flames before they could consume the paper.
Inside was a photo.
A picture of Isabel.
Sleeping.
Taken tonight.
Inside the safe house.
Moris's hands clenched into fists.
Julian had already been inside.