Echoes of forbidden love

Chapter 22: A Silent Witness

Arnold sat on the edge of the bed, his mind still reeling from the revelations of the night. The room was eerily quiet now, as if the air itself had been drained of sound in the wake of the chaos that had just unfolded. His thoughts were scattered, his emotions tangled in a knot of disbelief and confusion. Harry—his closest friend, a brother in all but blood—had just revealed himself as Viktor. The weight of that truth still bore down on Arnold, making it hard for him to think clearly.

The shock of it all had numbed him, leaving him paralyzed in the moment. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Harry had been living a double life, hiding his true identity from both him and Isabella. And yet, there was no time to dwell on it now. Something far more sinister was unfolding just outside the door.

As Harry and Isabella had left the room to talk, Arnold had remained behind, feeling the need to give them space. He could sense the tension between them, the rift that Harry's confession had caused. But then, something strange happened. From the room, Arnold had heard the faint sounds of footsteps and a low voice—then a sudden thud, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone hitting the ground.

Alarm shot through him like a bolt of electricity, but he remained frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Fear gripped his chest as the noises continued, the muffled sounds of a struggle reaching his ears. He rose to his feet and moved toward the door, his heart pounding with each step. He pressed his eye to the peephole, desperate to see what was happening outside.

Through the small circular view, Arnold saw Harry lying motionless on the floor. A wave of panic surged through him, but before he could react, his gaze shifted to the shadowy figure standing over Harry's body. It was a man—tall, with a cold, predatory presence. His face was partially obscured by the dim light, but as he stepped closer to Harry, Arnold's breath caught in his throat.

The man turned slightly, revealing his face in profile, and Arnold's blood ran cold. He recognized him instantly. It was Marcus Vance, a name that Arnold had only heard in whispers, a figure that had loomed large in the criminal underworld but was rarely seen. Vance was known for his ruthlessness, his ability to operate from the shadows without leaving a trace. But why was he here? And what did he want with Harry and Isabella?

Arnold felt a surge of helplessness as he continued to watch, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew he had to act, but what could he do? If he revealed himself now, he would only get himself captured—or worse, killed. He had no weapons, no plan, and no idea how many men Vance had brought with him. The only thing he could do was stay hidden and hope that an opportunity would present itself.

From the peephole, Arnold saw Marcus gesture to his men. They moved quickly, lifting both Harry and Isabella's unconscious bodies and dragging them away into the darkness. Every fiber of Arnold's being screamed at him to burst through the door and stop them, but he forced himself to remain still, knowing that any rash action would only doom all three of them.

His hands clenched into fists as he watched them disappear down the hallway, the door to the room closing behind them with a soft click. The silence that followed was deafening, a crushing reminder of his inability to stop what had just happened. Arnold's breath came in short, panicked gasps as he leaned his forehead against the door, trying to calm the storm raging inside him.

He had failed to protect them.

But as the moments passed, the shock began to fade, and a new emotion took its place—resolve. Arnold straightened, his jaw tightening as determination flooded his veins. He might not have been able to stop Marcus Vance from taking Harry and Isabella, but that didn't mean he couldn't save them.

Arnold moved away from the door, his mind racing. He needed a plan, something that would give him a fighting chance against a man like Vance. But first, he had to learn more about his enemy. He had to know exactly who Marcus Vance was and why he had come after Harry and Isabella.

Sitting down at the small desk in the room, Arnold pulled out his phone, his hands shaking slightly as he opened the search browser. He typed in the name "Marcus Vance," his eyes scanning the screen as the results populated. There wasn't much—just a few vague references to his involvement in organized crime, mentions of a powerful cartel he allegedly ran from the shadows. But there were no photos, no public records, no detailed information. Vance had covered his tracks well.

Frustration gnawed at Arnold as he scrolled through the limited information. There had to be something—anything—that could help him understand the man who had taken his friends. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he dug deeper, following threads of information, piecing together what little he could find.

Hours passed, the night growing darker outside the window, but Arnold remained focused, determined to learn as much as possible. His mind worked furiously, connecting dots, formulating theories. He learned about Vance's reputation for eliminating his enemies with cold precision, his ability to control vast criminal enterprises without ever being directly linked to them. The man was a ghost, a myth among those who operated outside the law.

But through his research, one thing became clear: Marcus Vance wasn't just a man who dealt in power—he thrived on control. He manipulated people, pulling the strings behind the scenes while remaining untouchable himself. And now, Harry and Isabella were caught in his web.

As Arnold continued to gather information, a plan began to form in his mind. It wasn't perfect—it wasn't even fully formed yet—but it was something. He couldn't sit idly by while his friends were in danger. He would have to act quickly, and he would have to be smart. This wasn't just about brute force; it was about outmaneuvering a man who had spent his entire life staying two steps ahead of everyone else.

His mind raced through the possible options. He could reach out to contacts he had in the underground, people who might have information on Vance's whereabouts. He could use what little influence he had to try to track Vance's movements, to figure out where he had taken Harry and Isabella. But whatever he did, he had to act fast. Every minute that passed was a minute closer to losing them.

But Arnold knew this was going to be dangerous. Going up against Marcus Vance meant risking everything—his life, his freedom, and possibly his own reputation. But none of that mattered anymore. Not when Harry and Isabella were in danger.

He stood from the desk, his eyes burning with resolve. There was no turning back now. He would find them. He would rescue them, no matter what it took, even if it meant risking his own life. Harry had been like a brother to him, and Isabella—though he had once considered her an enemy—had shown him compassion and strength in a way that made him realize she deserved better than the legacy of her father.

Arnold gathered his things, stuffing them into a bag with quick, efficient movements. He didn't have time to waste. He had no idea where Vance had taken them, but he was going to find out. And when he did, he would be ready.

As he slipped out of the room, a cold determination settled over him like armor. Marcus Vance may have thought he had won tonight, but Arnold wasn't about to let him keep that victory. He would fight for Harry and Isabella with everything he had.

The hunt for Marcus Vance had begun...