Leon
The text came through just after midnight.
We have the boy. If you want him back breathing, stay out of our business.
Leon stared at the message, jaw locked, every muscle in his body going still. His first thought wasn't of retaliation—it was of Ayla. Her face. Her trust. Her love.
Victor stepped into the office moments later. "You saw it?"
Leon nodded once. "How the hell did they get him? He had two of our men watching him."
"They were found unconscious. No memory of how they were taken out. Professional work."
Leon's fist slammed down on the desk. "We got lazy."
"You got comfortable," Victor corrected. "That's different."
Leon stood up. The room felt too small, too quiet. "We need a location. I want eyes on every warehouse Daniel's ever used. Every contact he's had. Anyone that's ever taken money from him."
Victor hesitated. "And Ayla?"
Leon stared toward the door like she might walk in at any moment. "She can't know."
"She'll find out eventually."
"Not until I have a plan," Leon said. "If I tell her now, she'll fall apart. That boy is all she has left."
Victor said nothing. He didn't agree—but he understood.
⸻
Ayla
Later that night, Ayla lay curled in Leon's bed, unable to sleep. Her fingers brushed the space beside her, but it was empty and cold. Again.
He was always disappearing now. No answers, no warnings—just a soft kiss and a promise he'd be back soon.
Something was wrong.
She sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around her waist. A chill swept through her chest, not from the cold but from fear.
He's hiding something.
The thought pressed against her chest like a weight.
But what?
She reached for her phone. No missed calls. No messages from her brother. Not even a random meme. That was unlike him.
Her stomach twisted.
Downstairs, Leon was giving orders in hushed tones. Planning something. Preparing for something.
She didn't know what it was, but she could feel it in her bones—it wasn't good.