Desmond could’t believe he is under the surveillance of anyone but then who is targeting him? That remained a puzzle and looking at the cars and motorcycles following behind him.
He quickly made a decision, as he approached the intersection ahead he slowed lightly and diverted to another lane, hoping to shake them off. But just as he glanced at the rearview mirror again, his pulse spiked—aside from the two cars tailing him, a set of motorcycles had now joined the pursuit.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. This wasn’t a coincidence.
Who were they? And what did they want?
Desmond’s heart pounded, his grip on the steering wheel tighter, his instincts screaming that something was off. Without wasting another second, he pressed the Bluetooth dial.
"Ray, get me a backup team. It seems I’m being followed," he instructed urgently.
On the other end, Ray responded swiftly. "Got it. Stay on the move. We’ll track your location."
Desmond kept his eyes locked on the rearview mirror, his pulse racing as the cars and bikes advanced. But then just as his mind braced for a potential attack they executed a swift formation and drove past him.
His brows furrowed. What the hell was that?
Were they merely testing him? Sending a warning? Or was something far more dangerous at play?
After they zoomed past, Desmond’s heart continued to pound erratically, his hands trembling slightly against the wheel. He exhaled sharply, pulling over to the side of the road. His mind raced at the possible implications. Was that a warning? A coincidence? Or something worse?
He clenched his fists, forcing himself to steady his breathing. No, I can’t afford to lose my composure now.
After a brief pause to gather himself, he restarted the engine and resumed his journey, his senses now heightened, every shadow and movement under scrutiny.
After several minutes, Desmond pulled into the police station. He was promptly greeted by the station chief, who led him to the recovered vehicle.
The moment Desmond laid eyes on the wrecked car, his heart lurched. The once-luxurious vehicle was now a twisted mass of metal—its windows shattered, the front end crushed beyond recognition. A cold chill ran down his spine as his mind raced. What really happened? Where are they?
Turning to the officer, he forced his voice to remain steady. "Officer, it’s been more than 24 hours since the incident. Have there been any new developments?"
The officer sighed, crossing his arms as he studied Desmond. "Mr. Allen, we’ve conducted an initial investigation at the crash site. The evidence suggests a planned attack rather than an accident."
Desmond’s expression darkened. "Planned?" He repeated, his fingers curling into fists. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed sent a fresh wave of unease coursing through him.
The officer nodded. "There were no skid marks indicating an attempt to brake, and the impact pattern suggests the vehicle was forced off the road. However, what’s even more concerning is that there were no bodies found at the scene."
Desmond stiffened. "Then where the hell are they?"
The officer shook his head. "That’s what we’re working to uncover. No traces of blood inside the vehicle suggest they might have survived the crash. But if that’s the case, someone took them."
Desmond’s mind raced. Could Davis and Jessica still be alive? And if so, who has them?
"Are there any suspects?" He demanded.
The officer exhaled, glancing toward his subordinates. "We’re pursuing several leads, but nothing concrete yet. However, given Davis Allen’s status and past conflicts, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume foul play from someone within your own circles."
After chatting with the station chief for a while, Desmond spun on his heels and exited the station, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. He didn’t want to believe that Davis and Jessica had been taken, but the evidence or rather, the lack of it suggested otherwise.
A battered car, no blood traces, no bodies at the scene... yet they were missing. Ridiculous. He mused, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he settled into his car. He couldn’t find himself settling down with several lose ends.
But then his mind drifted off to the incident that happened earlier. For several minutes, he sat there, replaying the events of his drive to the station. The cars that tailed me... was it just a warning? Or something more?
His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts. With a sigh, he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. The moment he saw the number, his heart plunged into the pit of his stomach.
It was the call he had been waiting for—the call he had been dreading.
Desmond let out a slow breath, steeling himself before he slid his finger across the screen to answer the call.
A deep, sonorous voice filtered through the speaker. "Desmond, Jessica and Davis are now out of the picture. It’s time to take over the group." He snickered.
Desmond’s heart leaped with both joy and trepidation. He didn’t want to imagine what it would be like finally have all his dreams.
"Then... where are they?" Desmond demanded, his grip tightening on the phone. "Why haven’t their bodies been found? You wouldn’t have had them kidnapped... right?"
His own words sent a chill down his spine. Because if they weren’t dead... then someone was playing a much bigger game.
"Am I answerable to you?" The man’s voice was laced with amusement and a hint of menace. "Tell me, Desmond, what do you think is better—having them kidnapped or having them killed?"
Desmond was stumped. He couldn’t answer. Because either option meant trouble.
His fingers twitched against the steering wheel as he swallowed hard. He wanted Davis and Jessica out of the picture. He needed to reclaim what was rightfully his. Now was not the time for hesitation. Not the time for mercy.
Taking a deep breath, he finally muttered, "Alright, I understand."
But in truth, he wasn’t sure if he did.