"YOU BLOODY SONS OF BITCHES—!! WHAT THE HELL AM I SEEING ON THE NEWS?! This wasn't part of the deal! I said kidnap her and hold her captive until the damn trial was dismissed because of her absence! I needed that delay to bury evidence and shut those witnesses up! I didn't say anything about murder! Now the police are going to come after me since I am the first suspect!!"
Blane's panicked rant echoed inside the WFAB surveillance van, parked just outside the Rosa police station. Monitors glowed softly in the dim interior. Isaac, Davis, and two other agents listened closely, watching every waveform.
A calm, chilling voice crackled through the speaker.
"Then I guess you better start running."
Click. The call went dead.
"This was the last audio we pulled from the burner phone," said the agent who told them about the chip been decoded earlier. "We're still working on accessing the remaining records. Whoever encrypted this thing used serious tech. But give us twenty-four hours—we'll have everything by then."
Isaac nodded. "That's more than enough. Good work, Tess."
She gave a sharp nod and backed out.
Isaac turned to another agent. "Anything new from the lab, Roy?"
Roy shook his head. "No, Captain. The team's still trying to determine what caused Blane's death—and the disintegration of the phone. Whatever did this… it's not simple. We're dealing with an advanced chemical weapon. Possibly synthetic. Tracking its origin won't be easy."
Isaac's jaw tensed. "Keep pressing. We need answers."
He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and gestured for Davis to follow him out of the van.
Outside, dusk had settled—a brush of orange and violet painting the sky, casting long shadows along the station's walls. The breeze tugged lightly at Isaac's hair, catching golden highlights in the fading sun.
The two agents climbed into the WFAB jeep, Isaac behind the wheel. The engine growled to life.
"Where are we headed?" Davis asked.
Isaac's eyes stayed forward, locked on the road.
"Back to the crime scene."
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"I've got a gut feeling we missed something. And I'm not leaving it behind."
He slammed down the accelerator.
After a couple of minutes of winding through quiet back roads, they arrived at Blane's mansion. Isaac parked the WFAB jeep on a gravel stretch deep in the forested edge of Blane's estate.
The area was silent. The mansion's windows were dark. Not a single light inside.
With forensic gloves already on, the agents approached the side entrance near the garage, unlocking the door with practiced care. They stepped into a stillness that felt haunted—like the house itself held its breath.
They made their way to the study office and and started rummaging through the drawers and shelves for more clues.
One hour passed.
Stacks of documents were flipped, drawers emptied, books checked and re-checked.
Davis finally groaned.
"Captain… what exactly are we looking for? We've combed this office before. It's been an hour and we've still found nothing."
Isaac didn't look up—his eyes skimming pages pulled from a drawer.
"Patience, Davis. My gut says something's here. Something we missed. I can feel it."
Davis sighed dramatically, snatching a book from the shelf.
"Fine! Go ahead, Captain and explore your gut feeling however you want. I on the other hand am going to indulge myself in some reading.."
He flopped into a chair near the desk.
Isaac glanced sideways. "Let me guess—You are reading that erotic novel aren't you?"
Davis grinned unapologetically. "Yes sireee. It's better than reading and rereading old boring business books and bank documents to look for evidence thats just based on assumptions and not facts."
He flipped the page. "I still can't believe he hid this inside a business guidebook. I mean what are the odds? A grown ass man hides an erotic novel inside a business guidebook. Sheesh, was his wife a control freak or what?"
Isaac suddenly stopped reading and looked at Davis flipping the pages of the book.
"Yeah...what are the odds. Especially if our dear banker...wasn't married. He didn't have anyone to hide it from....unless..." He Remarked.
At Isaac's remark, Davis stopped reading the book and looked at Isaac, thinking about his words.
"Mmm...what's the title?"
Davis looked at the cover page.
"Ummm...'The Dark Knight and His Tulip'."
Beep. Beep. Click.
Both men froze.
A red light flashed beside the bookshelf.
Then green.
Click.
Part of the wall slid sideways with a soft mechanical whir—revealing a hidden safe bolted into the structure.
Davis blinked.
"Well I'll be damned. Looks like your gut sense was right after all, Captain. Who would have thought that our dear banker would be so smart to make his hidden safe to blend right with the wall. That's a smart move."
They approached with caution.
Isaac twisted the lock.
A soft click—and the door opened.
Inside was a single item: a black velvet box, ominously elegant.
Isaac lifted it with care, studying the top.
A tech lock shimmered across its seal—sleek, numberless. Something he has never seen before.
No keypad. No code prompt.
It looked like it needed to be unlocked… but offered no clue how.
'Is it voice-activated?' Isaac wondered.
Just then, the lights went out.
Pitch black swallowed the room.
Davis flicked on his flashlight, then tried the light switch.
Nothing.
"The power's out," he muttered. "Even the appliances are dead."
Clank!
The sharp crack of breaking glass snapped both agents to attention.
Isaac raised a hand, signaling Davis to stay silent.
Footsteps echoed—slow, deliberate—approaching the study.
Isaac pointed toward the desk, and Davis nodded, diving behind the lounge sofa. Isaac slid beneath the desk, breath held.
The study door creaked open.
A figure entered—silent, precise.
In his hand: a silenced pistol.
The intruder scanned the room carefully, gaze sweeping for movement. When satisfied, his eyes landed on the open safe.
"Shit. Damn it." he cursed under his breath.
He pulled out a phone and dialed a number.
"Tell the Bull Dog we've got a problem," he hissed. "The box is gone. Someone took it before I did. I'll see if those bloody hounds at WFAB got their hands on it. Understood?"
Click. Line dead.
Isaac watched carefully—waiting for the right moment to strike.
But just as he began to move, the figure spun toward the doorway.
"Make sure you do your job properly this time. I don't want to see a single brick of this house standing. With the box gone, we shouldn't leave any loop holes for those hounds at the WFAB to find. Let's move."
The man stepped out—and two more shadows appeared in the hallway.
Before Isaac could react, the intruder reached back, the man who was in the room closed the door and locked it from the outside and walked away.
"Bloody hell!" Isaac whisper-shouted, bolting upright and rushing to the door.
"Damn it! He locked us in!"
Davis scrambled out from behind the sofa, fists clenched.
"Son of a bitch—! What now?!"
Then…
Both men froze.
A sharp, acrid scent crept through the cracks in the door.
They sniffed.
The recognition hit hard.
Gasoline!!!
They both screamed in their minds
Oh no...
......
Meanwhile…
"Oww… my back feels like it's been steamrolled by a freight train," Patricia groaned, sprawled across her bed while Alisha gently massaged her feet. "Urrr...that marathon and speed race trainer is a maniac!! A handsome devil from the depths of hell! I swear, Saccoth is going to feel my wrath for this! Oww..."
Alisha chuckled. "What did he make you do to get your feet this swollen?"
"Ugh! Don't even get me started," Patricia snapped. "He woke me up at 4:20 a.m.—in the dark! Made me chase a horse around the track from morning till noon. A horse, Alisha! Can you believe it?! And before I even got a moment to breathe, the other trainers showed up for the hurdle and obstacle sessions."
She slumped further into the pillows. "Now I feel like a beat-down sack of potatoes. And it's all his fault!"
Alisha laughed. "Wow. I don't think I've seen you this furious in ages. If you didn't want that derby title so badly, I think Benny would've found out the hard way that he's messing with the wrong girl."
"You're not wrong," Patricia grumbled. "He's lucky my mission's more important than bruising his ego with a little vengeance. Otherwise I'd give him a lesson his pretty-boy muscles would never forget. Ow!"
"You totally would," Alisha said, smiling as she stood. "Let me grab the massage ointment. Be right back."
"Thanks, little Sis," Patricia mumbled, flopping her arm over her forehead.
She reached for her phone, thumbing through messages absentmindedly.
Her expression slowly shifted.
'Weird… why hasn't Isaac texted me yet?' she thought. 'That's not like him.'
The screen remained quiet.
The silence stretched… oddly heavy.
Meanwhile...
Alisha walked quietly into the kitchen, grabbing the massage ointment from the medicine cabinet. As she turned to leave, movement at the back entrance caught her eye.
She paused.
Outside the window, just beyond the shadows, Zachariah stood speaking to a hooded figure—cloaked in black, voice low and deliberate.
Alisha moved closer, ducking slightly to remain hidden, to see what they were doing and perhaps catch what they were saying.
"Make sure no one finds out about this," the stranger said. "Or bad things will come for you, kid. I'll keep you in the loop for our next job."
He handed something small to Zach.
Alisha squinted.
A syringe.
Her breath hitched.
Zach quickly pocketed it, scanning the area. His gaze flicked toward the window. Alisha ducked just in time.
A moment later, she peeked again.
The stranger was gone. Zach stood alone.
Her heart pounded.
She turned and hurried up the stairs toward Patricia's room, careful not to bump into him.
'What the hell did I just witness? Who was that guy? What in the world is Zach involved in? What the hell is going on? I will have to find out otherwise my little detective sense won't rest until it is satisfied with answers. I will have to investigate and find out what's going on. Zach, I hope you're not tangled in what I think you are, otherwise....'
CRASH!
The sharp shatter of breaking glass cut through her thoughts.
From Patricia's bedroom.
Alisha sprinted upstairs, burst through the door to see what happened.
Glass shards scattered across the floor.
Patricia stood frozen near the bed, hand trembling at her side. Her face pale. Eyes wide. Breath shallow.
Alisha dropped the ointment and rushed to her sister.
"Patricia! Patricia! Are you okay? What happened? Say something!"
But Patricia didn't respond.
She just stared at the glass, unmoving.
Alisha shook her gently, panic mounting. But Patricia couldn't hear her—couldn't feel her.
All she could hear was the ringing in her ears…
And the sudden, unbearable pang in her chest.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
She whispered—barely audible.
"Isaac…"