Chapter 3 The Hunt Begins

Sunlight poured through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel room, cutting bright lines across the expensive sheets.

Damien woke up instantly, his dark eyes snapping open with absolute clarity.

His hand slid across the empty mattress beside him, searching for the warmth of her body.

"Jessica?" he muttered, his voice thick with morning sleep."Did she leave already?"

The bed was completely cold.

He blinked, turning his head toward her side.

The space was empty, save for a crumpled hotel notepad resting right on the dark wood nightstand.

Damien let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated deep in his chest.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. So she had slipped out before dawn and left him, thinking she would never see him again. She actually thought she had won.

He reached over and picked up the note, his eyes scanning her messy, hurried handwriting.

I had fun last night and thanks for the wallet.

Damien stared at the words, the smirk on his face turning into a look of absolute, unhinged fascination.

His thumb traced the edge of the paper. She hadn't just left him and run away like a ghost, she had actually picked his pocket while he slept.

She had stolen from him and thought she could just walk away. His obsession spiked to a whole new level.

"You really are something else, princess," he whispered to the empty room.

He leaned back against the pillows, the sheets rustling around his broad shoulders.

Without breaking his intense gaze from the ceiling, his hand dropped to the nightstand, picked up his encrypted phone, and tapped the speed dial.

The line connected on the very first ring.

"Boss?" a tight, professional voice answered from the other side.

Damien's voice dropped into a smooth, commanding ice. "I want you to find someone for me."

Roxy turned the key in the lock of their cramped apartment door as quietly as a mouse, slipping inside just as the morning sun began to peek over the city skyline.

She closed the door behind her, let out a silent breath of relief, and took exactly one step toward the hallway.

"Where do you think you're going?"

A sharp, flat voice cut through the quiet air like a knife.

Roxy froze, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling before slowly turning around.

Her older sister, Maya, was standing by the kitchen counter with a mug of black coffee in her hand, looking like a warden ready to throw her in solitary confinement.

Roxy forced a bright, innocent smile. "Good morning to you too, sister."

"Don't start that," Maya snapped, taking a slow sip of her coffee while narrowing her eyes. "Where were you last night?"

"Out with some friends," Roxy replied smoothly, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms.

Maya scoffed, setting her mug down hard enough to rattle the ceramic. "Oh, please. You? Friends? Don't make me laugh."

"Rude," Roxy muttered under her breath.

Before Roxy could slip past her toward the bedroom, Maya's gaze dropped.

Her eyes locked onto a dark, purplish bruise peeking out just above the collar of Roxy's shirt.

Maya's jaw dropped, and her coffee mug nearly slipped from her hand.

"Oh, my God," Maya whispered, her voice rising in pure disbelief. "Roxy, did you sleep with someone?"

Roxy instinctively reached up, scratching the back of her head as a faint, defensive flush crept up her neck. She shrugged, trying to play it cool.

"I just wanted to have a little fun."

"Fun?" Maya threw her hands up, her face turning bright red with anger.

"Roxy, you know we're on the run! You know the police are actively hunting us down for that last job, and you're out here having reckless one-night stands with total strangers?"

Roxy just offered a lazy shrug, marching past her sister as if she hadn't a single care in the world.

"Relax, Maya. He's just some spoiled rich boy. We won't cross paths with each other again, and besides, I don't even remember what he looks like anymore, so chill."

"Roxy, this is reckless," Maya shot back, spinning around to track her movements.

"If we get caught, it's game over. You have to take this seriously. Don't forget what we are."

"A couple of baddies?" Roxy grinned brightly, tossing her jacket onto the back of the sofa.

"No, Roxy, this is serious."

"Relax, sis. Don't start acting like a mom." Maya pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, heavy sigh.

"This girl is going to be the death of me." Maya looked up just in time to see Roxy flashing an unrepentant, wicked grin.

Maya's eyes narrowed, curiosity suddenly cutting through her annoyance. "Ugh, what'd you score?"

Roxy's smirk widened. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a sleek, heavy leather wallet made of fine, expensive material. "A wallet."

"You robbed the guy you spent the night with?" Maya hissed, though she leaned in closer as Roxy flipped it open.

"He's really loaded," Roxy laughed, pulling out a thick stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills and tossing the empty, high-end designer wallet straight into the kitchen trash can without a second thought.

Roxy fanned the cash out in her hand, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What do you say we get pizza for breakfast?"

Maya looked at the thick stack of cash, then at the empty designer wallet sitting in the trash, and let out a defeated laugh, shaking her head.

"You are completely insane, you know that?"

"Insane, but rich enough for extra cheese," Roxy grinned, already pulling out her phone to order the biggest pizza on the menu.

"Come on, live a little. We survived another night, Leo is officially ancient history, and we've got cash to burn."

Maya picked up her coffee mug again, watching her little sister with a mix of affection and deep, lingering worry.

"Just promise me you're going to keep your head down for a few days, Roxy. The cops are still sniffing around the district after that warehouse job. If anyone matches your face to that fake ID's you've been using, we're done."

"Nobody is matching anything," Roxy said dismissively, waving a hand in the air as she tapped through her phone screen.

"The ID was clean. The guy was just a drunk, rich distraction. Everything is fine."

Meanwhile, across town in a heavily guarded, soundproof office at the top of a private skyscraper, Damien Vance was standing by a floor-to-ceiling glass window.

His lead investigator stepped into the room, holding a tablet and looking noticeably tense.

"Boss. We tracked the hotel record. She checked in under the name Jessica Williams obviously fake. The ID she used was a master-tier forgery. It cleared the hotel's system, but when my guys ran the serial numbers through our private database, it pinged a cold file."

Damien didn't turn around. He took a slow sip of his neat whiskey, his eyes scanning the city below like a lion watching his territory. "Go on."

"I've scanned through every identity that matches your description but I couldn't find out her real identity. She's practically a living ghost." "It would take us a long time to track her down."

A heavy silence filled the room. Then, a dark, dangerous smile slowly spread across Damien's face.

"A ghost," Damien murmured softly, staring at his reflection in the glass. He set his glass down on the desk, his obsession locking into place like a steel trap.

"Find out her real name. Find out where she sleeps, what she eats, and who she loves. I want everything."

"Yes boss."

Damien's eyes darkened, a predatory glint flashing in the dim light.

"Take months if you have to. Do it right. Because when I finally find her, I want to make sure she never slips out of my hands again."