THE HUNTER AND THE HUNTED

Leandro’s apartment had become a war room. Maps of the city covered every surface, marked with red pins showing Dario Santos’ known properties. His laptop screen glowed with surveillance footage, financial records, anything that might give him an edge against a man who owned half the city’s underground.

A Notorious mafia don, in all of North-shore city whose name commanded respect and inspired fear at the mere mention of his name. His ruthless reputation preceded him, striking dread into the hearts of those who cross him .

“This is insane.” Detective Riley Martinez stood in the doorway, and shook her head, taking in the chaos. She watched him fixing and scattering papers all over. They had been partners on the force before Leandro left to start his security firm, and she was one of the few people who had take his call after what happened at the cathedral. “You are talking about going up against the Santos organization. Alone.”

“Not alone.” Leandro didn’t look up from the photos spread across his coffee table—grainy surveillance shots of Dario’s men, building blueprints, shipping manifests. “I have contacts. People who owe me favors.”

“People who aren’t suicidal.” Riley moved into the room, careful not to disturb his organized madness. “Leandro, I get it. I saw what happened. But this isn’t some corporate kidnapping. This is Dario Santos. He’s not just dangerous—he’s untouchable.”

“No one’s untouchable.”

“Tell that to the twelve federal prosecutors who have tried to build cases against him. Tell that to the FBI agents who have gone missing investigating his operations.” Riley grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “Tell that to the woman who’s probably already dead.”

The words hit him like a physical blow like he knew she was saying the truth. He jerked away from her grip, not wanting to think of Ava possibly dead, photographs scattering to the floor. “Don’t say that.”

“Someone has to! You’re chasing a ghost, and it’s going to get you killed.”

“Then it gets me killed.” His voice was raw, dripping with determination. “But I’m not leaving her with that monster.”

He was going to stop at nothing until he gets her back, he’s determined to sacrifice everything he has to bring her home.

Riley studied his face—the bruises from Dario’s fist, the wild desperation in his eyes, the way his hands shook when he thought no one was looking. She had seen him like this once before, when they had lost their first partner in the line of duty. That same self-destructive need to fix the unfixable.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked quietly.

Leandro’s jaw tightened. He turned back to his research, but she caught the flicker of something in his expression. Guilt. Fear. Shame.

“Leandro.”

“She knew him.” The words came out in a rush, like he had been holding them in until they poisoned him. “Before the wedding. She knew Dario Santos, and she never told me.”

Riley went very still. “What do you mean, she knew him?”

“The way she looked at him. The way she said his name.” Leandro ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the dark strands until it hurt. “That wasn’t the face of someone meeting a stranger. That was… recognition. History.”

“Maybe she—”

“And the gun.” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “She knew exactly where to find his backup weapon. Knew how to draw it without him noticing. You don’t learn that from watching movies, Riley.”

The implications hung heavy in the air between them. Riley had been a cop long enough to recognize the signs of a deeper game being played.

“You think she’s involved in his world somehow?”

“I think the woman I was going to marry has secrets that nearly got everyone at our wedding killed.” Leandro’s laugh was bitter, broken. “And I think I never really knew her at all.”

But even as he said it, he remembered the look in Ava’s eyes as she pointed that gun at Dario’s chest. The genuine terror. The way she had sacrificed herself to save everyone else.

Whatever history existed between them, she hadn’t wanted that confrontation. She had been as much a victim as anyone else in that cathedral.

“So what’s the plan?” Riley asked, because she knew that look. He was going after her regardless of the odds, regardless of the danger. The least she could do was make sure he didn’t go in completely blind.

Leandro pulled up a file on his laptop—shipping manifests for Santos Industries, the legitimate front for Dario’s operations. “He’s got a weakness. Everyone does. I just have to find it.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then I make one.”

Riley studied the screen, noting the careful way Leandro had mapped out supply routes, personnel schedules, financial transfers. It was good work—thorough, methodical. It was also a suicide mission.

“You know I can’t officially help with this,” she said finally.

“I know.”

“And I can’t stop you from getting yourself killed over a woman who might not want to be saved.”

“I know that too.”

Riley sighed, pulling out her phone. “Give me twenty-four hours.”

“For what?”

“To find out what really happened between your fiancée and Dario Santos. Because if you’re going to war, you better know what you’re fighting for.”

As she left, Leandro turned back to his research with renewed focus. Somewhere in this maze of information was the key to bringing Ava home. He just had to be smart enough to find it before Dario decided he was tired of playing games.

What he didn’t know was that three blocks away, on a rooftop,one of Dario’s men was photographing every document spread across his coffee table.

The hunter had become the hunted, and he didn’t even know it yet.