The car smelled of leather and silence.
Ayla sat with her hands clenched in her lap, wrists raw from the rope Daniel had cut just minutes before they stepped into the vehicle. No words had been spoken between them since he told her they were leaving.
She knew something was wrong. Something worse than being held captive.
Daniel wasn't yelling. He wasn't paranoid. He was calm. Too calm.
He had dressed her up in a soft silk dress and told her, "You need to look presentable." That line echoed through her skull like a gunshot.
The trees blurred past the window as they sped down a winding road into what felt like nowhere. Two black SUVs trailed behind, and one led the way. She recognized none of the faces.
This wasn't a relocation.
This was a handoff.
Ayla turned slowly. "Where are we going?"
Daniel didn't glance at her. "Just relax, Ayla. You'll be fine. Better than you've ever been."
Her blood turned cold. "You're selling me."
"Don't be so dramatic," he said with a tired sigh. "You always knew love was a transaction."
⸻
Leon
Blood.
The scent of it hung thick in the air as Leon stepped over another limp body inside the shattered manor. Smoke curled from the shattered chandelier, and flames crackled somewhere deep in the eastern wing.
He was too late.
Victor checked a room down the hall and returned with grim eyes. "She's gone."
Leon stared at the empty bed, the neatly folded blouse still on the pillow.
Not a struggle. Not a trace. They didn't kidnap her.
She went willingly.
But not by choice.
"Daniel sold her," Leon said aloud. His voice was hoarse with rage. "That coward traded her off to buy his way out."
He clenched his fists. "I'll burn every cartel from here to Morocco if I have to."
Victor hesitated. "We'll need more intel. And allies."
Leon's eyes glinted like frost under moonlight. "Then let's make some noise. Loud enough to reach whoever bought her."