Find out what comes next as the story continues in the following chapter.

The sirens grew louder, a cacophony of sound that seemed to shatter the dark, industrial silence of the shipyard. Rachel’s calm demeanor finally wavered. She glanced toward the main gate, her eyes narrowing as the blue and red lights began to dance against the steel hulls of the ships.

"You called them?" she hissed, her voice a serrated blade. "You invited the authorities into our business?"

"This isn't our business," I corrected, stepping forward until I was just inches away from her. "This is your crime, and your debt, and your end."

Rachel reached into her coat, but I was faster. I grabbed her wrist, twisting it back until the gun she’d been reaching for clattered onto the concrete. I didn't hold back. I pushed her, hard, sending her stumbling backward toward the wall of the storage unit.

She recovered quickly, her face a mask of primal fury. "You have no idea what you’ve done. By the time they get here, I’ll be gone. And you? You’ll be the one left holding the evidence."

"Let them find it," I said. "Let them find everything. That’s the point."

She lunged at me, her hands clawing for my face, but I met her charge with a brutal, instinctive strike that sent her reeling. We were locked in a desperate, silent struggle—the two Mayas, the shadow and the substance—fighting not just for control, but for the right to exist.

She was stronger than she looked, her movements efficient and ruthless, but I had something she didn't: I had nothing left to lose.

I pinned her against the wall, my hand around her throat.

"Tell me," I whispered. "Tell me where Alex is."

She choked, her face turning a deep, bruised purple. She tried to strike at my arm, but I held on, my grip unyielding.

"Aspen..." she wheezed. "He's... at the lodge..."

I released her, and she collapsed, gasping for air. I didn't stay to watch her crawl away. The police were seconds away. I turned and ran, disappearing into the labyrinth of the shipping containers, just as the first patrol car skidded to a halt at the shipyard entrance.

I didn't look back. I reached the edge of the shipyard, jumped the fence, and disappeared into the sprawling, unmapped darkness of the Seattle suburbs.

I had the address. I had the resolve.

I walked until my feet were blistered and bloody, eventually finding a bus station on the edge of the city. I bought a ticket—not to Aspen, but to the small, remote town where the lodge was located.

I was going to finish this.

I reached the lodge two days later. It was nestled in the mountains, a secluded fortress of pine and stone. It was quiet, the air thin and biting, the silence so profound it felt like the world was holding its breath.

I spent the first night watching from the trees, observing the routines, the security, the small, mundane details of the life Alex was living. He was there, just like Rachel said. And he wasn't alone.

He was with Chloe.

Seeing her, seeing her small, innocent face in the window, broke something inside me. I had come here to destroy them, but how could I do that without destroying her?

I had to be surgical. I had to be precise.

I spent the next twelve hours mapping the lodge, identifying the blind spots, the delivery routes, the weak points in the perimeter. I wasn't just a placeholder anymore. I was a ghost, a shadow that had learned how to bite.