She threw a sharp, calculated kick toward Kieran's head. He ducked swiftly, his eyes sparking with a mixture of mischief and genuine impression. Katya was fuming; she needed the physical release after the serrated edge of his words. She lowered the gun, preferring the visceral satisfaction of a strike, and the foyer became a blur of movement.
Kieran wasn't attacking; he was dancing, fluidly dodging her blows with a smirk. However, as he twisted away from a roundhouse kick, his towel nearly gave way. Katya hissed and spun around, averting her eyes.
"Oh my god, what happened, Frost?" Kieran laughed, casually retightening the knot at his waist. "I was actually starting to enjoy our little dance."
"Do you think this is a game?" Katya snapped, still facing the wall. "You took Elara!"
"For the record," Kieran said, his voice suddenly shifting to a tone of stark honesty, "I didn't take your friend. I have much more interesting things to do with my time."
Before she could retort, her phone vibrated in her pocket. An unknown number. She answered, pressing the phone to her ear.
"Hello, Miss Ivanov," a deep, gravelly voice spoke. The Russian accent was thick and unmistakable. "I have your friend here with me."
"Do you have a death wish?" Katya asked, her voice dropping to a sub-zero temperature.
A dry chuckle crackled through the line. "If you want to see her alive, you will do exactly as I say."
"What do you want?"
"I like that. Straight to business," the voice replied. "Meet me at the Saint Louis Bridge. And bring the Romano boy with you."
The line went dead. The silence that followed was heavy. Neither Katya nor Kieran looked surprised; in their world, a third party was always waiting to capitalize on the chaos.
"Someone is trailing us," she said, looking at the dark screen.
"Tell me something I don't know," Kieran countered. "Though, it's likely just you they're following. I'm careful, Frost. Always."
"This isn't the time for flattery. We can't track the call—I'm sure the SIM is already at the bottom of a river. We have to go." She glanced at his bare chest, her expression returning to its mask of professionalism. "Do you mind putting on some actual clothes? If you're finished being a distraction."
Kieran smirked, a mountain of unspoken mischief behind his eyes. "Try not to miss me while I'm gone." He turned and headed upstairs.
[Amira's mansion]
Amira sat in her bedroom, the moonlight casting long shadows across the floor. She rose and stepped into her walk-in closet, pressing a hidden latch behind a row of designer gowns. A secret door clicked open.
The room inside was a nightmare of obsession. The walls were covered in candid photos of Kieran—walking to class, riding his bike, laughing with Damien. In the center was a single photo of Katya. It was slashed with a blade and smeared with dried, dark blood.
"I've seen the way he looks at you, Katya Ivanov," Amira whispered to the empty room. "Hate? Disgust? It's a lie. It's all fake!"
In a sudden fit of rage, she swept everything off a nearby table, the sound of breaking glass echoing in the small space.
"He wants you! He fancies you!" Amira shrieked, her voice cracking. "He loves you, Frost."
She began to laugh—a high, maniacal sound that bordered on a sob. She stood there, trembling in the dark, until the laughter died down into a sharp, devilish grin. She reached for her phone and dialed a number, her hand steady once more.
[The Warehouse]
Elara groaned as consciousness slowly returned. The air was cold and smelled of damp concrete and rust. She tried to move, but the heavy rattle of chains told her she was going nowhere. She was in a pitch-black warehouse, and the thunder shaking the roof sent a jolt of pure terror through her.
Then, she heard it. A steady, rhythmic beep... beep... beep...
Her eyes adjusted to the dark. A small digital display was glowing red next to her chair. A bomb.
Panic surged. Elara began to scream, her voice raw as she thrashed against the metal links, weeping for help that wouldn't come.
Suddenly, the heavy sound of a sliding door echoed through the hall. A tall, dark figure emerged from the shadows, silhouetted against the rainy night outside.
"Hello, Elara."