Meanwhile, Marx's jet, the Mercury T02, roared over the horizon and descended upon Bleu Island—thirty minutes ahead of schedule. He had pushed the aircraft to its absolute limit, the engines straining so hard they nearly combusted midair.
At the airport, his security detail snapped to attention, quickly escorting him into a sleek black convoy. He was driven straight to a lavish hotel overlooking the sea, where the plan was simple: rest briefly while the Mercury T02 was cleaned, checked, and refueled.
But Marx had no time for rest.
Inside his suite, he immediately reached out to Ren and Ava. The siblings, frantic and sleepless, had been scouring every digital trail, every backdoor, every surveillance feed they could breach. Yet even with their unmatched skills, the truth was maddeningly simple:
Amaya was gone. She vanished from her chalet room without a trace.
"Ren," Marx said, his tone anxious, "send me all the footage you captured of Amaya the moment she left the airport."
