Chapter 5 Begining or the end

"To destroy a monster, you must first become one."

The wind sliced through the Manhattan night like a scalpel, sharp and unforgiving.

Jessica stood frozen on the rooftop opposite The White Dagger, arms wrapped around herself, watching the target unfold below. Her heart thundered in her chest, louder than the hum of Javier's comms. She could still feel the phantom heat of Vincent's touch, his smirk, his lies, his chains.

Now, it was time to break them.

"Team Alpha in position," Bob's voice crackled in her earpiece.

"Eyes on the back entrance," came another. "No movement yet."

She turned to Javier, who stood a few paces away, arms crossed, eyes cold. Not angry. Calculating. He was a statue carved in fury and ice.

Jessica swallowed. "Are you sure this won't get your men killed?"

Javier finally looked at her. "They know the risk. And unlike Damon's thugs, they're not amateurs. We don't do chaos. We do precision."

She nodded, even as her stomach coiled.

Inside that club were girls like her.

And Vincent.

The man who started it all.

"Go in," Javier said into the mic. "Clean. Fast. Don't spook the girls."

Inside The White Dagger

The first scream came just after 11:03 p.m.

The second was a bartender yelling for help before Bob slammed him to the floor, zip-ties locking around his wrists. Within ninety seconds, the security team at the rear door was neutralized, the back hallway cleared.

Jessica watched it all from the rooftop feed, hands trembling.

"Javier..." she said quietly. "The third hallway. On the right. That leads to the holding rooms."

He nodded, never taking his eyes off the tablet. "Already sent them."

In a flash, three girls were pulled from a basement cell shaking, wide-eyed, and barefoot. One of them began sobbing as Bob handed her a coat. Another clutched the pendant Jessica had once worn herself. A simple gold heart.

Her knees buckled, and she grabbed the railing.

"They're just kids..." she choked out.

Javier was beside her in an instant. "Don't look away. You need to see what he did. You lived it. But now you watch him fall."

Then a new voice cut in sharp, urgent.

"Target acquired. Vincent's on the move heading for the garage. Repeat: target is trying to escape."

Basement Garage

Vincent was panting, keys shaking in his hand, cursing under his breath as he slid into the driver's seat of a silver SUV.

"Come on, come on"

His window shattered in a burst of glass.

Before he could react, a hand reached through and dragged him out by the collar, slamming him against the concrete.

Bob loomed over him like judgment incarnate. "Going somewhere, rat?"

Vincent spat blood. "You don't know who you're messing with. Damon'll kill you all."

Javier stepped into the dim light, calm and merciless.

"No, he won't," he said coldly. "Because by morning, he won't have anything left to fight with."

Vincent's eyes widened. "You... Fernando?"

"That's right."

He nodded toward the car. "Put him in the trunk."

Back at Javier's Penthouse

The silence was unbearable.

Jessica sat at the edge of the sofa, fingers digging into her knees. Across the room, Vincent was gagged and zip-tied, blood dripping from a split lip. He stared at her like he could still control her.

But she was no longer the scared girl from the club.

She stood.

I walked toward him.

And without speaking without flinching she slapped him across the face.

"You don't own me anymore."

Javier didn't stop her. He didn't even blink.

Vincent growled beneath the gag, and she leaned in, lips near his ear.

"I'm not your broken doll. I'm the one who outlived you."

She turned and walked away.

Later That Night

The penthouse was quiet now. Vincent had been moved to a secure black site Javier used for interrogations. The rescued girls were en route to a safe house run by one of Javier's charities funded quietly, out of sight.

Jessica stood on the balcony, city lights flickering beneath her like stars that had fallen too low.

Javier joined her, silent at first.

"You were brave tonight," he said.

She shook her head. "I was terrified."

"That's what makes it brave."

A pause stretched between them.

Then Jessica asked, voice barely above a whisper, "How do you do it? Live with everything you've seen... and still feel nothing?"

He didn't answer right away.

"When you watch enough people betray you," he said finally, "you start to believe that feeling is a weakness."

She turned to him. "And is it?"

He looked down at her at the pain she wore like armor, the strength forged from ashes.

"No," he said softly. "Not with you."

She didn't respond.

But she didn't look away either.

The night should've ended there with justice delivered and monsters caged.

But fate had other plans.

Jessica stirred restlessly on the couch, fingers tangled in the hem of the oversized sweatshirt Javier had given her. She couldn't sleep, not after the images still flashing in her mind of blood, chains, the sound of Vincent's muffled screams.

She got up, padding barefoot into the kitchen to get water. The apartment was dark, silent... too silent.

A soft click made her freeze.

She turned just as the lights cut out.

Total darkness.

Her breath caught.

"Javier?" she called.

No answer.

Another sound. This one is closer. Like a door opening then shutting softly.

Her pulse exploded.

"Javier, this isn't funny," she whispered.

Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth from behind.

Her scream died in her throat as she kicked back, slamming her elbow into ribs hard.

The man grunted, staggered, but didn't fall.

Then came gunfire.

Loud.

Close.

Too close.

Someone yanked her down as bullets tore through the glass above her. She fell to the floor, dizzy, ears ringing.

She blinked and saw Javier crouched over her, his Glock aimed at the balcony.

"Three intruders," he hissed, eyes flashing with rage. "Damon's dogs. Move!"

They crawled across the floor as glass shattered above them.

Javier's voice came sharp and clipped through the earpiece in his neck. "Code Red. Breach on the 52nd floor. Perimeter compromised."

Explosions of light lit up the penthouse windows as the intruders fired indiscriminately. They weren't here to scare.

They were here to kill.

Jessica's breath shook. "They're after Vincent."

"No," Javier growled, firing back. "They're after you."

One of the gunmen burst through the kitchen door. Jessica screamed as the masked man raised his rifle

But Javier was faster.

Three clean shots.

The man dropped.

Dead before he hit the floor.

Javier grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward the hidden staircase behind a bookshelf. "Downstairs. Panic room. Now."

"But what about"

He cut her off. "You're the target. They want to take you alive. I won't let that happen."

They rushed down the narrow steel stairwell as gunshots echoed behind them. At the base, Javier punched in a code and shoved her inside a thick steel door.

A panic room. Sealed. Soundproof. Secure.

"I'll be right back," he said, eyes fierce. "Stay here. Don't open this door for anyone but me."

She grabbed his arm. "Don't go out there alone"

"I'm never alone."

He closed the door.

Jessica screamed after him, fists slamming against the metal. But she was locked in.

Helpless.

Again.

Upstairs

Javier was a storm.

He moved like vengeance, cold and unrelenting. Two more men down in the hallway. A third tried to run he didn't make it past the kitchen.

But something was wrong.

Too easy.

Too sloppy.

And then static crackled in his ear.

"Javier," came Bob's strained voice. "It was a diversion. The strike team hit our safe house. The girls"

The signal died.

Javier's heart dropped.

His eyes flicked to the security monitor inside the hall.

A new feed appeared. One that shouldn't exist.

Jessica's face.

Inside the panic room.

Then... another face.

Behind her.

A man. Masked. Silent. Standing just inches away.

Watching her.

Inside the panic room.

"No..." Javier whispered.

Not possible.

Unless...

Unless someone had betrayed him

Inside the Panic Room

Jessica felt it.

The shift in the air.

The presence behind her.

She turned slowly.

And saw him.

Tall. Masked. Eyes like frostbite.

Not Damon.

Not Vincent.

Worse.

"You?" she breathed.

He didn't answer.

He just raised a syringe.

Before she could scream, it plunged into her neck.

Her world went black.