Daniel Monroe was proving harder to find than Leon expected.
He moved like smoke — no trail, no pattern. Every safehouse Leon raided was already cold. Every contact silenced before they could speak. Daniel was running, but he was running smart. And that made him dangerous.
Leon stood before a city map stretched across the wall of his private office. Dozens of red pins marked known associates, suspected hideouts, past movements. Strings connected each one like a spider's web — messy, calculated chaos.
Matteo stood behind him. "Still no word from the north district. Looks like he burned the whole site. Files, weapons… gone."
Leon's jaw tightened. "He's hiding something."
Matteo paused. "You think he knows you're after him?"
"I think he's always known," Leon muttered. "The second I took Ayla in."
A silence stretched between them.
Leon's hand hovered over the map, landing on a name circled twice — Silas Trent, Daniel's old associate. Last seen six months ago. Vanished without a trace.
"I want every camera feed from the industrial sector rerouted to us," Leon ordered. "Daniel won't stay hidden forever. And when he surfaces—"
"We hit him hard," Matteo finished. "And fast."
Leon nodded once, eyes cold.
⸻
Ayla
The air in the apartment was quiet — too quiet. Ayla sat curled on the couch, staring out the window without really seeing the city beyond. She hadn't told Leon, but the nightmares had returned.
Not of Daniel.
But of the night she'd buried the body.
She'd thought time had dulled it. That distance had buried it deeper than the grave they'd dug. But now that everything was surfacing, it clawed its way into her mind — the smell of the earth, the sound of shovels hitting roots, Daniel's hand gripping hers like a promise and a curse.
A soft knock pulled her back. Leon stepped in without waiting for a reply. His coat was off. His sleeves rolled up.
He didn't speak — just sat beside her and reached for her hand.
"Any luck?" she asked.
"Not yet."
She nodded, fingers tightening around his. "You'll find him."
"I will," he said softly. Then, after a pause, "You holding up?"
Ayla looked at him — really looked at him. The man who saw all of her and still stayed.
"I am now."