The warehouse was quiet.
Too quiet.
Anna sat on the cold floor, her hands now untied but her freedom still out of reach. The air felt heavy, like something was about to happen—something big.
Maverick stood near the window, staring out into the darkness. His expression was unreadable, but his mind was anything but calm.
Anna.
Mirabel.
The resemblance haunted him.
It wasn't just her face. It was something deeper. The way she looked at him—confused, defiant, scared. It was the same look Mirabel used to give him when he said something reckless.
He clenched his jaw.
Impossible.
Mirabel was gone.
Years ago.
So who was this girl?
Behind him, Sheila paced slowly, arms crossed.
"This delay is unnecessary," she said sharply. "We should contact Vincent already."
Maverick didn't turn.
"Plans change."
Sheila frowned. "Not this one."
Maverick finally glanced at her.
"You don't make decisions here."
The tension between them snapped instantly.
Sheila stepped closer. "You needed me for this. Don't forget that."
Maverick's eyes darkened.
"And you needed me more."
Before Sheila could respond—
One of the men burst into the room.
"Boss!"
Maverick turned sharply.
"What is it?"
The man hesitated.
"He's here."
Silence.
Heavy. Dangerous. Final.
Maverick didn't need to ask who.
Vincent.
Outside, the night had turned deadly.
Black SUVs surrounded the warehouse like shadows.
Men dressed in dark suits stood ready, weapons in hand, their movements precise and controlled.
At the center of it all—
Vincent.
He stepped out of his car slowly, adjusting his cuffs as if he were attending a meeting instead of walking into war.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
But his eyes…
His eyes were cold enough to freeze the night.
"Inside," he said quietly.
That was all it took.
His men moved instantly.
Inside the warehouse—
"Move," Maverick ordered.
Everything shifted into chaos.
Men grabbed weapons.
Footsteps echoed.
Tension exploded.
Sheila's heart pounded.
"He found us too fast," she muttered.
Maverick grabbed his gun.
"Doesn't matter. We're leaving."
"What about her?" Sheila snapped, glancing at Anna.
Maverick hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then—
"Bring her."
Anna's heart dropped.
Before she could react, someone grabbed her arm again.
"No—wait—!"
Gunshots echoed outside.
Loud.
Sharp.
Terrifying.
Anna flinched.
"It's him," she whispered.
The warehouse doors burst open.
Vincent walked in like a storm.
Gunfire erupted around him, but he didn't flinch.
His men handled everything with brutal efficiency.
Anyone who stood in their way—
Fell.
Vincent's eyes scanned the room.
Searching.
Hunting.
"Anna," he muttered.
Then he saw her.
Across the room.
Being dragged away.
Something inside him snapped.
"Move," he ordered coldly.
Anna struggled against the grip holding her.
"Let me go!"
Her voice cracked.
Her heart raced.
But then—
She saw him.
Vincent.
Standing there.
Unstoppable.
Relentless.
Her breath caught.
"Vincent…"
Relief flooded her.
But it was quickly replaced by fear.
Because the look in his eyes—
It wasn't just concern.
It was rage.
Pure, terrifying rage.
Maverick saw him too.
Their eyes locked across the chaos.
Years of rivalry.
Hatred.
Unfinished business.
All colliding in one moment.
Vincent stepped forward slowly.
"Maverick."
His voice was low.
Deadly.
Maverick smirked faintly.
"Still dramatic, I see."
Vincent's gaze flickered briefly to Anna.
"Let her go."
Maverick tilted his head slightly.
"Or what?"
Silence.
Then Vincent took another step forward.
"You don't want to find out."
The air grew thick with tension.
Anna's breathing quickened.
She could feel it.
This wasn't just about her.
This was bigger.
Much bigger.
Suddenly—
More gunshots.
Closer this time.
"Boss, we need to move!" one of Maverick's men shouted.
Maverick's expression hardened.
He looked at Anna again.
That same hesitation.
That same confusion.
Then—
"Let's go," he ordered.
"What?!" Sheila snapped. "We can't just leave!"
Maverick grabbed her arm.
"We're done here."
"But—"
"Now."
Reluctantly, Sheila followed.
Anna was shoved forward—
Then released.
She stumbled slightly, shocked.
They were… leaving her?
Maverick paused at the exit for a brief second.
His eyes met Anna's again.
A strange look crossed his face.
Not hatred.
Not indifference.
Something else.
Then he disappeared into the night.
The warehouse fell silent.
Vincent walked toward Anna slowly.
His steps steady.
Controlled.
But his emotions—
Anything but.
"Anna."
Her name left his lips like a breath he had been holding.
She ran to him.
Without thinking.
Without hesitation.
And crashed into his arms.
"I was so scared," she whispered, her voice shaking.
Vincent held her tightly.
One hand at her back.
The other gripping her shoulder as if letting go wasn't an option.
"You're safe," he said quietly.
But his eyes—
They were still burning.
Minutes later, the area was secured.
Vincent's men moved efficiently, clearing the warehouse.
But Vincent didn't leave.
Not immediately.
He stood near the doorway, looking out into the night.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Anna stood beside him now, wrapped in his coat.
"Who were they?" she asked softly.
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"Maverick."
Anna frowned slightly.
"And Sheila…"
Her voice trailed off.
Vincent turned to her.
"Sheila?"
Anna nodded.
"She helped them."
The words hit harder than expected.
Vincent's expression darkened.
"I see."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Anna hesitated.
"She said… she wanted me out of your life."
Silence.
Vincent looked away briefly.
Then back at her.
"That's not her decision to make."
Anna felt a small warmth at those words.
But the tension remained.
Because now—
Everything was out in the open.
Elsewhere in the city…
Sheila sat alone in a dimly lit apartment.
Her hands trembled slightly as she poured herself a drink.
Everything had gone wrong.
Maverick had pulled out too soon.
Vincent had found them.
And worst of all—
Anna was still alive.
She clenched her jaw.
"This isn't over," she muttered.
Her eyes hardened.
If anything—
This had only made things worse.
Because now Vincent knew.
And she had nowhere left to stand.
So she did the only thing she could.
She disappeared.
Meanwhile…
Maverick stood in a dark alley, his men waiting nearby.
"Boss, what now?" one of them asked.
Maverick didn't respond immediately.
His mind was elsewhere.
Anna.
Her face.
Her voice.
Mirabel.
It didn't make sense.
But it felt real.
Too real to ignore.
"I want everything on her," he said finally.
The man frowned.
"Her?"
"Yes."
"Who she is. Where she came from. Her family."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Especially her father."
The men exchanged looks.
"Understood."
As they moved to carry out his orders, Maverick remained still.
Lost in thought.
"If you're not Mirabel…" he muttered under his breath,
"Then why do you feel like her?"
Back at Vincent's mansion…
Anna sat quietly on the couch, still shaken.
Vincent stood near the window, his back to her.
The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable.
It was heavy.
Full.
"What were you doing earlier?" Anna asked softly.
Vincent didn't turn.
"I was looking into your past."
Anna blinked.
"My past?"
"Yes."
He finally turned to face her.
"Your father."
Her heart skipped.
"I don't know anything about him."
Vincent studied her carefully.
"I know."
Anna swallowed.
"Why are you looking?"
Vincent stepped closer.
"Because something doesn't add up."
Her chest tightened slightly.
"What do you mean?"
Vincent didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he said something that made her breath catch.
"You're not who you think you are."
Silence.
Anna stared at him.
Confused.
Scared.
"What does that mean?"
Vincent's gaze softened slightly.
"It means," he said
"This isn't over".