Max's mind was in a frenzy as he sped through the city streets, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. The quiet hum of the engine was drowned by the roaring storm of anger and fear tearing through him. Luther's final words played on repeat in his head—"It'll already be too late."
Every second wasted was another second Yara could be gone. Or worse.
His instincts screamed that this was a trap. It had been from the beginning. Luther hadn't just orchestrated Yara's abduction; he had turned Max into his personal puppet, pulling the strings from the shadows. The thought gnawed at him—he, the master of control, had been toyed with.
But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was finding her.
The warehouse lights flickered as Max pushed through the dark, wet streets. His contacts had led him here—an old industrial district long abandoned, now used for shady deals and black-market trades. It reeked of death and desperation, a place where lives were sold for the right price.
Max approached cautiously, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. His gun was already drawn, ready for whatever awaited him. But it was too quiet. The kind of quiet that signaled a trap. Still, he pressed forward.
He entered the building, stepping into the dark hallway that stretched out before him like a tunnel into oblivion. Every creak of the floorboards echoed in the vast emptiness, amplifying his heartbeat.
Suddenly, a sharp noise broke the silence—a door creaking open to his right. Max didn't hesitate. He swung around, gun raised, finger on the trigger. His pulse raced as a figure slowly emerged from the shadows. It wasn't who he expected.
A woman. Her clothes were torn, her hair disheveled, and her face—though masked by blood and grime—looked vaguely familiar. She was trembling, her hands clasped together in a pitiful plea.
"Please," she whispered, her voice shaky, barely audible over the pounding rain outside. "You have to help me."
Max didn't lower his weapon. His eyes narrowed as he approached her slowly, his mind racing. "Where's Yara?"
The woman shook her head, a terrified sob escaping her lips. "I don't know... they've been holding us here... for days... but they took her somewhere else. Said they needed her for something."
Max's grip tightened on the gun. Every fiber of his being told him she was lying, but there was something desperate in her eyes—something that mirrored his own desperation.
"Who's 'they'?" he growled, taking a step closer, his voice cold as ice.
She swallowed hard, her eyes flickering with fear. "Luther's people... and someone else. They didn't say much, just that they needed her alive. For now."
Max's blood boiled. He reached out, grabbing her by the collar and slamming her against the wall. "Where did they take her?"
"I—I don't know!" she cried out, tears streaming down her face. "Please, I don't know! They just said... they just said they'd take her to 'The Cage.'"
Max's eyes darkened. The Cage. He had heard rumors about it—an underground hideout, hidden deep within the city, where the worst of the worst operated in secrecy. Only the truly vile had access.
But it wasn't the name that sent a chill down his spine. It was the realization that Yara was likely being held there—at the mercy of men who did unspeakable things for fun.
He released the woman, letting her fall to the ground in a heap. She sobbed as she crawled away, but Max's mind was elsewhere.
"The Cage," he muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening with rage.
He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving her behind in the darkness.
The drive to The Cage felt like an eternity. His thoughts twisted, his mind cycling through every possible scenario. What would they be doing to her right now? Would she still be alive by the time he got there? The questions gnawed at him, each one feeding the seething rage inside.
He arrived in an isolated part of the city, the kind of place where light never touched. The building before him was nondescript—just another decaying structure in a sea of forgotten ones. But beneath it, Max knew, lay the hellhole that called itself The Cage.
He moved quickly, making his way through the maze of alleys and into the hidden entrance. As he descended into the underbelly of the city, the sounds of depravity echoed around him—men's voices, laughter, the unmistakable cries of the tortured.
Max had been in places like this before. He had created places like this before. But now, he was on the other side, and every part of him was ready to burn it to the ground.
He stormed through the corridors, leaving a trail of unconscious bodies behind him. He was a force of nature, moving with brutal efficiency. No hesitation. No mercy. The closer he got, the more the rage built inside him.
Max's heart raced as he kicked open the heavy metal door, adrenaline pumping through his veins. His eyes darted around the dimly lit room, searching for Yara. The stench of blood and sweat clung to the walls, an eerie silence settling over the space.
But she wasn't there.Instead, a single chair stood in the middle of the room, empty. No bindings, no blood—nothing to show that Yara had ever been there. His chest tightened. He was too late. His worst nightmare, the very fear that had driven him here, was now a reality.Max stood frozen, the rage and fear swirling inside him, threatening to tear him apart. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened, the sound of his labored breathing filling the room.A faint sound broke the silence—a voice, scratchy and weak. Max's head snapped toward the far corner, where a man lay on the floor, bleeding from a gunshot wound. It was the same man who had sneered at him moments earlier.With a snarl, Max approached, his gun trained on the man's head."Where is she?" Max growled, his voice low and dangerous. The man's lips twitched into a painful grin, blood staining his teeth."You think it's that easy, don't you?" the man rasped, coughing up blood. "You're just scratching the surface, Max. You'll never find her."Max grabbed the man by the collar, yanking him up from the floor. "Talk!" he demanded, shaking him violently.The man's grin widened, even as blood dripped down his chin. "You're chasing ghosts," he wheezed. "By the time you find the next clue, she'll be long gone. Or worse."Max's grip tightened, his gun pressing against the man's temple. But there was a sick truth in his words—a darkness that loomed larger than anything Max had faced before.The man coughed again, his strength fading.
"Check the envelope," he whispered before his body went limp, collapsing onto the floor.
Max's breath hitched as he saw it—a small black envelope sitting on the floor near the chair. Slowly, cautiously, he picked it up, the weight of it unsettling.He tore it open, finding only a single piece of paper inside. Written in a familiar, elegant script were the words:"She's already gone. But you're next."
Max's heart pounded as the paper slipped from his fingers, fluttering to the floor. The walls seemed to close in on him, the air thick with dread. He had been too late. Yara was gone, taken by an enemy far more powerful, far more cunning than he had ever imagined.
And now, they were coming for him.The room was suffocating, the weight of the empty chair like a noose tightening around his throat. Max clenched his fists, his mind swirling with unanswered questions. Who had taken her? And how far would he have to go to find her?The world outside felt distant, distorted, as if it were slipping away. But one thing was certain: this wasn't over.Not by a long shot.---**To be continued...**
