The city was still awake.
Neon streetlights dazzled the night, reflecting off wet asphalt and glass windows. Clubs and bars throbbed with music, spilling laughter and drunken chatter onto the sidewalks. Youths mingled freely, chasing the thrill of the night as if morning would never come. Streams of cars flooded the roads, red taillights glowing like veins of fire as engines roared and sped through the streets.
Inside one of those cars, the tension was thick.
"Can you slow down a bit… my head hurts," Xavier said from the passenger seat.
Blue sat behind the wheel, her hands gripping it tightly. Her eyes were fixed ahead, but Xavier could tell she wasn't really seeing the road. She was somewhere deep inside her own thoughts.
"Blue," he called again.
No response.
Instead, the car accelerated.
The engine growled louder as the vehicle surged forward. Xavier glanced at her, concern creeping into his expression. Just as the line of cars ahead signaled a slowdown, Blue slammed on the brakes, and the car jerked to a halt behind them.
"It's probably traffic," Xavier said carefully when the car finally slowed.
Blue didn't look at him.
"How could you let him do that to you? I thought you were the city's drug lord," she asked, suddenly enraged.
Xavier stiffened. Now he understood what had been eating at her.
"Why would you go to the port alone? I'd killed less competent of your men, or were they the best?" she added, her voice tight.
A slow smile spread across Xavier's face as realization struck him.
Blue loved him.
Not just love—something deeper, darker. Obsessive. Possessive.
That was why she hadn't killed him the first time they met.
Holy Jesus!
She had even shot the boss… because he punched him.
"How did you find me?" Xavier asked quietly. "And my car?"
"I can't tell you that," Blue replied shortly.
She kept her eyes on the road.
"You have the best men," she repeated, "and they didn't even realize they'd been laced?"
Xavier let out a tired sigh.
"Bruce would've figured it out if I'd been with him, but...um, I fired all of them," he admitted.
"Why would you do that?" Blue asked
"They are stupid! They couldn't find anything about you...and it proves I am a dumb leader, so I fired most of them. I recruit from the academy," Xavier stated
"It's not their fault...there's nothing about me in anything in the world. Don't beat yourself up...I told you to ask me anything, and I will answer what I can...right now, I'm complicated, but I'm working on a plan." Blue says
"Look, I know I messed up. I just… didn't think anyone would come for me. So, thank you," Xavier says sincerely looking at her
Blue noticed the traffic checkpoint ahead. A flicker of panic rose inside her chest, but she buried it quickly.
Beside her, Xavier studied her in silence. A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He recalls when he earlier discreetly pulled out his phone and made a call. An anonymous tip to the NSPD.
Blue slowed as they approached the checkpoint.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Oh…" Xavier said casually, watching her reaction. "The police are collecting everyone's fingerprints. Something about helping catch the serial killer."
He expected fear. Shock. Maybe even panic.
Instead, Blue remained completely still.
If anything, she looked annoyed—like she simply wanted to get it over with.
"You're not scared of getting caught?" Xavier asked, narrowing his eyes. "Or having your information in their system?"
"No," Blue said flatly.
She finally glanced at him.
"You don't even know a quarter about me."
Xavier swallowed.
Soon it was their turn.
Blue rolled down the window and offered a polite smile to the female officer standing beside the car.
"Your license," the officer requested.
Xavier was about to interrupt—until his eyes widened in disbelief.
Blue handed over a driver's license.
That had to be fake.
Xavier had searched every city database there was for even the faintest trace of Blue. Nothing. No records, no files, no history.
This checkpoint was thorough.
If that license was fake, she was finished.
He opened his mouth, ready to speak.
But then the officer calmly placed a fingerprint scanner in front of Blue.
Blue pressed her finger onto it.
A soft beep sounded. Green light.
The officer nodded, handed the license back, and waved them through.
Blue drove away smoothly.
Xavier stared at her.
"How did you do that?"
"I can't reveal my ways," Blue replied calmly.
The car sped off into the night.
Minutes later, Blue pulled into the parking lot of a massive government building.
Xavier frowned.
"What are we doing at the police station?" he asked. "I didn't even bathe after today. I stink."
It was only half a lie.
He did smell terrible, but that wasn't the real problem.
Even if he was furious with his father, he couldn't risk walking into a public building looking like this. He was the identical twin of the city's billionaire. Any scandal involving him would explode across the media.
"Don't worry," Blue said as she stepped out of the car.
"You're not going."
Before Xavier could react, she shut the door and locked it.
He was trapped inside his own car.
The Audi Concept C was black-labeled with privacy glass. From the outside, no one could see who was inside.
Blue walked away without another word.
***
Deep in the woods, the air was cold and unsettling.
A group of people moved carefully through the darkness, guns raised and senses sharp. Every snapped twig and rustling leaf made them tense, ready for something to leap out of the shadows.
Ahead stood an abandoned building.
The structure looked forgotten—its walls cracked, its roof sagging, wild grass swallowing its entrance.
They stepped inside.
"Are you sure this is the address on the paper?" Natasha asked again, her voice echoing slightly.
"Yes," Simon replied. "There must be a reason the thief left it."
He moved around the room, pressing his palms against different sections of the wall as if expecting something to give.
Nothing. Just solid concrete.
Ruben pinched the bridge of his nose, already irritated.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered.
Then he spoke louder.
"How do we even know the thief wrote that address?" Ruben said bluntly. "It could've been any of you."
"What?" Robert said, startled.
"Think about it," Ruben continued, anger rising in his voice. "AID could've been stolen a week ago—or even earlier—and nobody noticed? Simon's been pushing to shut down the company. Why? And now we're here chasing ghosts like idiots."
Simon's expression darkened.
"Are you losing your mind, kid?" he said slowly. "You think I orchestrated this?"
He stepped toward Ruben.
Ruben didn't back down.
"Wait," Natasha said suddenly.
She looked between them, thinking.
"Paige suspected there was a mole in the company," she said. "And Simon was the one who urged us not to believe her… until her father was blown up."
Silence fell over the room.
"You can't be serious," Simon sneered.
"And this could all be a trap," Ruben added.
Simon snapped. He strode toward Ruben with controlled fury. Ruben instinctively stepped backward.
"Who are you to make such accusations?" Simon demanded.
"I am the foundation of AID," Simon continued, voice rising. "When Paige was just eight years old—when she and her father returned from South Africa—who do you think gathered the former soldiers? The spies? The operatives?"
His eyes burned.
"How do I know you're not the impostor who joined my company pretending to protect Alexander? He's still here—"
CLANG.
The sharp metallic sound cut him off.
Everyone froze. They looked down.
Ruben had stepped on something.
A small metal plate on the floor.
Beside his foot, a tiny red light blinked.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
Panic rippled through the group.
"Don't move," Simon said quickly.
He crouched beside the device, studying it while Ruben stood frozen.
"So the thief lured us here just to blow us up," Natasha whispered nervously.
Simon shook his head.
"It's not a bomb."
The group exhaled in relief.
"Then what is it?" Robert asked.
Simon stood.
"Ruben," he said calmly, "stamp your foot harder."
Ruben frowned.
Seconds ago, Simon had nearly attacked him.
Now he wanted him to press the device even harder?
"Trust me," Simon said.
Ruben hesitated. Then he stomped.
The red light flickered—
And turned green.
A deep rumbling sound echoed through the building.
Behind them, a section of the wall slowly slid open, revealing an elevator descending into darkness.
They stared at it in stunned silence.
One by one, curiosity overcame caution.
They stepped inside. The elevator descended.
Far below ground, the doors opened with a soft—
DING.
They stepped out.
"It's a bunker," Ruben said, awed.
The place was breathtaking.
Gold-coated walls gleamed under soft lighting. Electricity hummed quietly through the elegant interior. Expensive furniture decorated the space like a luxury penthouse hidden beneath the earth.
A television played music in the background.
Someone lived here. Someone wealthy. Someone private.
From the kitchen area, a man appeared. He wore a loose bathrobe and walked barefoot, casually wiping his hands with a towel.
The team froze.
Recognition washed over them like ice water.
"Jonas Samuels," Simon whispered.
The man frowned, confused by the sudden audience.
"Can I help you?"