Page 59 of Love Under Siege

Detective Morrison and I have been hitting the streets hard, chasing down every lead we can find. It feels like we’ve been running in circles, and the frustration is building inside me, an anger I can barely keep in check. Every moment wasted is another moment she’s in danger.

Collins has been helping us, but I don’t trust him. He keeps feeding us these so-called tips, evidence that goes nowhere. It doesn’t sit right with me. Something’s off. But with nothing solid to go on, I’m stuck following his bullshit leads, and it’s getting us nowhere.

I step outside to get some air, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. The cool night breeze hits my face, but it doesn’t help. I pull out my phone and dial Connor’s number, praying he’s found something—anything.

“Hayes,” I say the moment he picks up, “tell me you’ve got something.”

There’s a pause, and then his voice comes through the line, calm but tense. “I’ve been tracking down some of Paul’s old contacts. I think I’ve got a lead. One of his guys was seen hanging around an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. I’m heading there now.”

Relief and determination flood through me. “I’m on my way.”

I don’t waste any time, driving in tense silence as the city fades into an industrial wasteland. By the time I pull up to the warehouse, Connor’s already there, waiting by the door. His face is grim, and I know he’s found something.

“He’s inside,” Connor says, his voice low. “Part of Paul’s old crew. He’s scared, probably knows more than he’s letting on.”

I nod, the adrenaline kicking in. “Let’s go.”

“Sullivan,” Connor says, concern in his voice at what dark intentions I may have. “What are you going to do?”

I don’t answer right away, my mind is on Anya and how much I need to get to her. “Whatever it takes.”

Connor doesn’t push me further. He knows what’s at stake. He knows what I’m willing to do.

The inside of the warehouse is cold, the concrete floor sending chills up my spine as we step in. I see the guy tied up and he is beaten.Looks like Connor started the party without meI think to myself and smile, knowing that I can trust Connor to have my back. I walk up to Paul’s guy and push the chair into the center of the room. His eyes dart around nervously, like a rat trapped in a cage, but he doesn’t say a word.

I pace around the room, circling the guy in the chair, then pull out my phone, and check the time. It’s been three days since Anya and Lana went missing. Three days of hell. Three days of leads that led nowhere. And now, this guy in front of me—he’s the last thread I’ve got to pull. I can’t let him slip away without getting answers.

I look back at Connor. “No matter what you hear, don’t come in.”

Connor’s jaw tightens, but he nods. “Do what you gotta do, Sullivan.”

The door creaks as he shuts it, leaving me alone with the guy. His breathing is shallow, and I can see the sweat starting to form on his forehead.

"Look," I start, trying to keep my voice calm, "we both know how this ends if you don’t talk. So save yourself some pain and tell me where Anya and Lana are."

The man glares up at me, blood dripping from his mouth from the beating he received, as he smirks, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

I clench my fist and take a deep breath. "I don’t have time for this," I say, stepping closer, towering over him. I grab the chair and yank it closer to me, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Where are they?"

His grin fades slightly, but he still doesn’t answer. He thinks I won’t go through with it. He thinks I’m bluffing.

"Oh, You think I’m playing games?" I growl. "You seem to be under the impression that I won’t hurt you?"

I reach behind me, pulling out the knife I had stashed in my belt. His eyes widen at the sight of it. Good. I want him to be scared. I want him to know what’s coming if he doesn’t talk.

"Last chance," I say, holding the blade up to his cheek. "Where. Are. They?"

For a moment, he hesitates. I can see it in his eyes—the flicker of doubt, the fear creeping in. But then he sneers, shaking his head. "You’ll never find them," he spits out. "You’re too late."

I don’t hesitate. The blade slices across his cheek, just deep enough to make him scream, but not enough to do any permanent damage. Blood pours down his face, and I step back, letting him feel the pain for a moment.

His screams echo through the warehouse, but I don’t flinch. I meant what I said, I will do whatever it takes. And right now, I don’t care how much he suffers. All I care about is getting Anya and Lana back.

"That’s just the beginning," I say coldly. "The next cut will be deeper."

The man gasps, struggling against his binds, his eyes wild with panic now. "Y-you’re crazy," he stammers, his voice trembling. "Y-you wouldn’t—"

I grab his collar, pulling him close to me, the tip of the knife pressing against his throat. "Try me."

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