Moris Sinclair never acted on impulse. Every move was calculated. Every war fought on his terms.
But this? This was different.
Victor Mendez had made the mistake of targeting Isabel.
And for that, he was going to burn.
A Race Against Time
Moris's car screeched to a halt in front of Isabel's apartment. The moment he stepped out, he knew something was wrong.
The door was ajar. The air was thick with tension.
Sarah was already inside, pacing. "She's gone."
Moris's fingers curled into fists. "Tell me everything."
Sarah took a steadying breath. "Her neighbor heard shouting. Two men. They took her—fast, professional. No security footage, no witnesses."
Moris's mind was already working. Victor wouldn't kill her. Not yet.
Which meant he had time.
Not much.
But enough.
A Message from the Devil
Moris's phone buzzed. A video.
He tapped the screen.
Isabel was tied to a chair in a dimly lit room. A deep bruise formed along her cheekbone. She wasn't broken. Not yet.
Then Victor's voice filled the room.
"Moris. You had one job—stay in line. But you don't listen. So now, I have to teach you a lesson."
Moris clenched his jaw as Victor's silhouette entered the frame. He crouched beside Isabel, running a slow hand along the back of the chair.
"I wonder…" Victor mused. "How far will you go to get her back?"
The video cut off.
Silence.
Then Moris turned to Sarah. His voice was calm. Too calm.
"Get me Ronan Vale."
Sarah stiffened. "You want to work with him?"
Moris's eyes burned with cold fury. "No. I want to use him."
A Deal with the Devil
Ronan Vale had barely settled into his drink when Moris stormed into his penthouse.
"I don't have time for games," Moris said. "You want Victor gone? We do it now."
Ronan chuckled. "And why would I help you?"
Moris leaned forward. "Because you hate him more than you hate me."
Ronan swirled his drink, considering. Then he smirked. "Alright, Sinclair. Let's burn the bastard to the ground."
The Plan
Moris laid out the plan in clipped, precise words.
Victor's safe houses. His guards. His blind spots.
Ronan provided the last missing piece—where Victor was keeping Isabel.
Moris rose from his seat, voice steel. "We hit him at dawn."
Ronan smirked. "I like this side of you, Sinclair."
Moris's expression didn't change. "You haven't seen the worst of me yet."