The docks smelled of salt, steel, and secrets.
Isabella stood at the edge of the pier, the wind whipping her coat around her legs as the faint hum of engines echoed in the dark.
Ahead of her, a massive shipping container was being lowered onto a waiting truck, guarded by a half-dozen men in black suits with earpieces and cold, watchful eyes.
Alexander stood at her side, his arms folded, his expression cool and unreadable as always — though his gaze flicked over the scene with sharp precision.
"Security's tighter than I expected," she murmured, her voice low.
"That's because it isn't just a shipment," Alexander replied.
"It's bait."
She shot him a look, but he only smirked faintly.
"Katerina's testing you. She wants to see how far you'll go — and how well you'll survive."
Isabella's lips curved into a cold smile.
"Then let's show her."
Ten minutes later, they were crouched behind a stack of crates closer to the truck, the salty air thick with tension.
Alexander handed her a small earpiece and a sleek black pistol.
"I thought you said we were just observing," she said quietly, sliding the weapon into her coat.
"I lied," he replied smoothly.
"I wanted to see if you'd hesitate."
She smirked faintly and slipped the earpiece into place.
"Not anymore."
"That's what I like to hear," he murmured, his eyes gleaming in the dark.
The signal came fast.
A faint static in her ear, followed by Alexander's calm, steady voice:
"Go."
Isabella moved like water, her heels barely making a sound against the dock as she slipped between shadows.
Two guards stood at the back of the truck.
She waited until they turned their backs, then stepped forward, pressing the cold barrel of her pistol to the first man's neck.
"Don't," she said softly, and he froze.
The second guard spun — but Alexander was already there, moving with deadly grace, disarming the man before he could even shout.
In seconds, both were unconscious at their feet.
Isabella's heart pounded, but her hands were steady as she reached for the lock on the container door.
With a loud clunk, it swung open.
And what she saw inside made her stomach drop.
It wasn't weapons.
It wasn't money.
It was people.
Dozens of them — men and women, some no older than teenagers — sitting in silence, their eyes hollow, their wrists bound.
Human cargo.
Isabella stood frozen for a moment, the reality of it sinking into her chest like ice.
Katerina hadn't just lured her here.
She'd shown her what kind of monster she really was.
Behind her, Alexander's voice was low and dark.
"She's not just playing with you. She's reminding you what's at stake."
Isabella's jaw tightened as she stepped into the container, meeting the frightened eyes of the captives.
One young woman — her cheek bruised, her dress torn — whispered a single word:
"Help."
Isabella's fingers curled into fists at her sides.
She turned back to Alexander, her voice quiet but full of fire.
"We're not leaving them here."
His eyes narrowed — but he didn't argue.
Instead, he pressed a finger to his earpiece and gave a single command:
"Clean it up."
Almost instantly, the faint roar of engines grew louder — black SUVs pulling onto the docks, Alexander's men spilling out with weapons drawn, taking out Katerina's guards with ruthless efficiency.
Within minutes, the container was open, the captives being led to safety, and the truck left abandoned.
But just as Isabella let out a shaky breath of relief, Alexander's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen — and for the first time that night, his composure cracked.
He handed her the phone without a word.
On the screen was a live feed.
Of her apartment.
Katerina was sitting in her living room, her legs crossed, sipping wine as if she owned the place.
When she looked directly into the camera, her smile was pure poison.
And then she spoke, her voice echoing through the feed:
"You're late, Isabella."
The screen went black.
Isabella's blood ran cold.
She raised her eyes to Alexander, her voice steady despite the fury building in her chest.
"Take me there," she said.
"Now."