𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑 ✓ | 18+

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Oliver

I spent the next few days plunging into a relentless search, every moment consumed by the drive to find Isabella. The footage from the apartment building had provided a clear image of the men who had taken her. With every resource at my disposal, I threw myself into the investigation. My time as Ghostface had given me skills and connections, and now was the time to put them to use. I reached out to old contacts, tapping into every underworld network I knew, hoping to track down the culprits.

The days blurred together as I scoured through leads, each one a dead end or a lead that pointed me further into the city's dark underbelly. I visited shady bars, underground clubs, and back-alley dives, places where information flowed if you knew how to ask the right questions. It wasn't long before I caught a break. I learned about a group of men who matched the description of the kidnappers—Kyler and Brodie, two punkass thugs with a notorious reputation for violence. They were known as the reapers, they operated out of an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. Their influence extended to clubs, bars, and other establishments across the city.

. . .

The night air was thick with tension as I made my way towards the warehouse. I parked my car a few blocks away, ensuring I remained unseen. The warehouse loomed ahead, a decrepit relic of a bygone era. The windows were boarded up, and the heavy wooden doors were rusty and sagging on their hinges.

I approached the building with calculated steps, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation. The darkness wrapped around me, and I clung to the shadows, moving silently. Reaching the rear of the warehouse, I spotted a small window, barely wide enough for me to squeeze through. The task of fitting through it was tight and uncomfortable, but desperation lent me the strength and agility needed. I took a deep breath and climbed inside, landing with a soft thud on the concrete floor below.

The warehouse's interior was cloaked in shadows, the dim lighting casting long, eerie shapes across the walls. The air was heavy with the smell of oil, rust, and stale sweat. I crept forward, every sense on high alert. My eyes scanned the cluttered space for any sign of movement, any indication that Isabella and Emily were near. The murmur of voices from a room at the far end of the building guided me towards them. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a drum of urgency.

I approached the door with caution, peering through a crack to get a glimpse of what lay beyond. Inside, the two men, a blonde one, and dark-haired one, I'm guessing they were Brodie and kyler. They were seated at a table. They were drinking and laughing.

My hand gripped the handle of my knife, the familiar weight a comforting reminder of my purpose. I pushed the door open slowly, the creak of the hinges masking the sound of my entry. the blonde looked up just as I stepped inside, his eyes widening in surprise. "What the—" he began, but his words were cut off by the swift, deadly movement that followed.

easy work

I was upon him in an instant, the blade of my knife flashing in the dim light. With a powerful slash, I cut deep into his throat. Blood sprayed from the wound, a visceral spurt that painted the walls in crimson. the blonde's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening in a silent scream. fucking pussy. He gurgled and choked, his strength waning as he collapsed to the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.

The dark-haired one leapt up, reaching for a gun that lay on the table. But I was quicker. I lunged at him, the knife aimed with deadly precision. The blade plunged into his chest, the impact sending a shiver through me as his body jerked violently. his eyes were wide with shock, his mouth forming silent words as he fell backward, a choked cry escaping his lips. His hand gripped the gun, but he was already beyond saving. He crumpled to the floor, his life ebbing away.

This is why I loved to kill, I loved to see the fear in their eyes before death. it was fucking satisfying.

I pulled the knife from his body, the blood coating the steel and dripping onto the floor. The adrenaline coursed through me as I wiped the blade clean on my pants. My breaths came in heavy, I took a moment to steady myself. The room was eerily quiet now, the only sound the distant hum of machinery and the occasional drip of water from the ceiling.

I quickly turned my attention to searching the room for any clues that might lead me to Isabella. I rifled through the blonde's pockets, finding a set of keys. They were cold and heavy in my hand, but I knew they could be crucial. I scanned the room and spotted a door at the back, partially concealed by a stack of old crates. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached the door, keyring in hand.

I inserted the key into the lock and turned it slowly. The lock clicked open with a metallic sound that seemed to reverberate through the empty space. I pushed the door open, my heart racing as I stepped through.

I hope she's okay.

The room beyond was dimly lit and cramped, filled with various items—old furniture, crates, and other discarded objects. I quickly scanned the space, searching for any sign of Isabella. My hope surged when I spotted a small, cluttered cot in the corner. It was empty, but I noticed a trail of blood leading towards a narrow passage at the far end of the room. The blood was fresh, and my anxiety spiked.

I followed the trail with urgency, each step a desperate attempt to find her before it was too late. The passageway was narrow and dark, the walls closing in on me as I moved forward. The sound of my footsteps echoed, mingling with the distant noise of the city beyond. My senses were on high alert, every instinct urging me to hurry the fuck up.

The passage opened up into a small, dimly lit room. The sight that greeted me was a nightmare. Isabella was slumped against the wall, her hands bound and her face streaked with tears and blood. Her eyes were closed, but a soft, pained moan escaped her lips as she shifted slightly.

My girl was fucked up.

"bella!" I called out, my voice trembling with both relief. I hurried to her side, my heart aching at the sight of her suffering. She looked up, her eyes meeting mine with a mixture of hope and exhaustion.

I quickly worked to free her from the ropes, my fingers moving deftly despite the trembling of my hands. "I'm gorgeous here." I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm going to get you out of here."

As I cut through the ropes binding her wrists, I noticed the marks left by the cruel bindings and the bruises scattered across her skin. My heart clenched with anger and sorrow. I helped her to her feet, supporting her as she swayed slightly.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," I said urgently, my eyes scanning the room for any further threats. Isabella nodded weakly, her hand gripping mine with a feeble strength.

Before we could make a move, the distant sound of footsteps made us both freeze. My heart pounded as I looked around for an escape route. The noise was getting closer, and I knew we had to act quickly.

I helped Isabella towards the passage, my mind racing with the need to find a safe exit. The footsteps grew louder, and I could hear voices—familiar, threatening. Kyler and Brodie's minions were coming. We had to get out before they found us.

Just as we reached the end of the passage, a door swung open, and more men poured into the room. My mind raced, and I knew we had only seconds before they discovered us. With a determined look, I pulled Isabella into the narrow passage and pushed forward.