Leon's car ate up the private road like a predator closing in on prey, but no amount of speed could stop the knot twisting in his gut. The GPS coordinates blinked on the screen, each turn dragging him closer to an unknown he was terrified to face.
The smell hit him first — acrid, suffocating smoke. It crawled into the car through the vents, clinging to his clothes, making his stomach churn. Then came the sight.
The villa… or what was left of it.
What had once been an architectural masterpiece, gleaming white stone against a sapphire sea, was now a blackened carcass. The ocean breeze carried not the scent of salt, but of ruin — char, ash, and the metallic sting of devastation.
Leon's heart seized. For a moment, the world narrowed to a muffled, ringing silence.
He slammed the brakes, the tires screaming, and stumbled out before the car had fully stopped.
"Where is she?!" His voice tore from his throat as his security rushed toward him, their expressions grim.
"Sir, the fire crew says—"
"I don't want to hear what they say," he snapped, his eyes flashing. "Get them back in there. Every corner, every piece of rubble. If they have to sift the ash grain by grain, they will."
Boots pounded across scorched ground as orders crackled over radios. Firefighters moved like shadows through the smoke, steel tools clanging against charred beams. Leon followed them in, stepping over what used to be expensive furniture — now nothing more than warped metal and brittle fragments.
The heat still radiated from the floor, baking the soles of his shoes. His skin prickled, the air biting his lungs. He coughed but didn't slow. His mind kept flashing images — Ayla's hair fanned over a pillow, the way she smiled when she thought no one was looking — now overlaid with the sickening thought of her body lying somewhere in this ruin.
No.
Half a world away, the sea rocked a modest fishing boat. Ayla gasped awake, coughing hard, each breath tearing at her throat. She tasted salt, not just from the water but from tears she hadn't realized she'd been shedding.
Two fishermen hovered over her, their rough hands surprisingly gentle as they steadied her. Their voices were fast, foreign, but she caught snippets — "lucky," "rocks," "almost gone."
A blanket, coarse and smelling faintly of fish, was draped over her shoulders. It was scratchy, but it kept the cold from slicing too deep. She looked out across the waves — no sight of the villa, no Damien, only the endless ocean and an unfamiliar strip of land in the distance.
Her stomach turned — not just from the rocking of the boat, but from the fear creeping back in. Damien could still be alive.
She swallowed hard and turned to the taller fisherman. "Phone," she whispered, her voice barely a rasp.
He hesitated, brow furrowing, before fishing a battered mobile from his pocket. It was scratched, the screen spiderwebbed, but it worked.
Her hands trembled as she dialed the one number she knew by heart.
Back at the ruins, Leon stood over a blackened archway, his eyes scanning every inch as men dug through rubble. His phone was already in his hand, thumb hovering over the screen, ready to summon more crews. He was about to press "call" when his phone rang.
Unknown number.
For a second, he almost ignored it — until instinct told him otherwise. He swiped. "Hello?"
Static. Then—
"Leon…"
It was like a punch to his chest. Her voice was hoarse, broken, but it was hers.
He froze, every muscle going rigid. "Ayla? Where the hell are you? Are you hurt?"
"I'm… I'm safe," she whispered, though the words sounded fragile, as if they could shatter. The faint slap of waves bled through the call. "I… I'm alive."
His knees nearly buckled, relief crashing through him like a storm tide. He pressed a hand against a charred wall to steady himself, ignoring the soot staining his palm.
"Stay where you are," he said, the command sharp despite the tremor in his voice. "Don't move. I'm coming for you — do you hear me? No matter where you are, I'll find you."
A sob slipped down the line, soft but unmissable. "Please hurry."
The call ended — the phone's old battery dying mid-breath — but Leon was already moving, shouting into his own device, calling in favors, ordering coordinates traced. For the first time in days, his heart dared to beat in hope again… but the clock was ticking.