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Breaking free from the dense trees, my feet pound against the soft sand as I sprint towards the beach. My heart races with adrenaline and anticipation as I reach a small dock bustling with fishermen preparing to set sail. I slowly stroll casually, pretending to be out for a leisurely jog, and stop to catch my breath. As the men slowly disperse, I move and grab hold of a nearby tricycle. Thanks to the credit card and cash I took from my mother before we left, money is not an issue for me. My father may not know about my transgression, but I felt it would be helpful. With a generous tip, I request a speedy trip to the private airport. The driver happily obliges and agrees to keep our transaction between us. The amount I gave him could cover his expenses for at least a month, and I pray that he will use it wisely. Rushing into the small office at the airport, a young woman greets me with a kind smile. "Good morning, miss. How may I help you?" Gathering my thoughts, I quickly explain my urgent need for a helicopter or plane to Manila. Time is of the essence.
Chapter Eighteen
Marco
Waking up to find Pia missing from our room sends a spurt of panic through me. The empty space beside me is a cold reminder of her absence. Realizing that she's managed to leave the house without anyone noticing ignites my fury. All the resources, our meticulously orchestrated security measures, and still, Pia slipped through undetected.
"Find her!" I bark out to her two new guards, the sharpness of my command cutting through the morning air. Turning to Joshua and Darrel, my frustration mounts. "How did this happen?"
Every time there is a calm in the storm, Joshua attempts to explain. "We relied on Luna Sangrienta's team to cover the outside perimeter."
But that doesn't satisfy me. "But she had to get through the inside. She did so undetected and without getting caught on the cameras." The puzzle of her escape consumes me. Pia's determination to leave and her ability to outsmart a security setup that's never failed point to a level of planning that predates our recent troubles. She must have been plotting this escape long before our paths intertwined in love.
Determined to find her, I issue my next command with celerity: "Get the plane ready." As they move to carry out my orders, I prepare myself for what comes next. The betrayal I feel at her leaving, tempered by my fear for her safety, sets a clear course. I will find Pia, bring her back, and then we'll have a very serious conversation about trust, safety, and the lengths I'll go to protect her—even from herself.
The wheels of the private jet barely touch the ground in Manila before my phone vibrates with an incoming call. It's Viktor, and the strain in his voice sets my heart racing even before he speaks.
"Marco, we've located Pia," he begins, and I brace myself for the news I've dreaded yet expected. "She turned herself over to Gerald, and he wasted no time. Handed her straight to Jon Marc, who left Quiapo with her."
Rage ignites within me, a burning fury that demands action. "Where are they headed? Give me details, Viktor. I need a plan, and I need it now."
Viktor's voice is steady, a calm amid the storm brewing inside me. "Our intel suggests they're still in Manila, likely headed towards Jon Marc's family estate. We're on it, tracking their movements closely."
"And the split?" I ask, referring to our resources divided between protecting the president and rescuing Pia.
"Some of Las Águilas Nocturnas are with the president; the rest are dividing efforts between Pia and keeping an eye on Gerald. I'm also heading to Quiapo to handle Gerald."
I nod to myself, the decision clear as day. "Do it. I'm going after Pia. We can't let them reach that estate."
The call ends, but the dread doesn't dissipate. If anything, it escalates, fueling my desperation to get to Pia before it's too late. My men, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, ready themselves for what comes next—a high-stakes chase through the heart of Manila, each moment critical, each decision potentially life-altering.
As we disembark, Manila's air feels charged with danger and resolve. My team forms around me, a silent vow to reclaim what's ours. The city looms ahead, a sprawling maze that holds the key to Pia's safety. I'm ready to tear through every obstacle and shadow until she's back by my side.
The game has changed, and we race toward the unknown. Every fiber of my being is focused on one goal: saving Pia, no matter the cost.
We navigate the bustling streets of Manila, and the density of traffic serves as both a challenge and a cover. The high and unforgiving sun casts a glare on the windshields, mirroring the intensity of our mission. Our destination lies within the more affluent outskirts of the city, where every minute against the clock feels like an eternity.
Suddenly, my phone lights up with an encrypted notification, a direct line from our tech team. "Marco, you're closing in on them," one of our IT specialists reports through the secure channel. "Pia’s in the lead SUV. Be aware, there seem to be motorcycles acting as outriders, trying to blend in with regular traffic."
Acknowledging the update, I glance at the custom app we've developed for such operations. Its interface is a live map, with a pulsing beacon indicating Pia's moving location. Our sophistication and determination are unparalleled.
"Let the lead two SUVs from our convoy slide in front of theirs," Joshua instructs our driver, his voice all controlled urgency. The driver nods, seamlessly weaving through traffic to position our vehicles strategically around the convoy carrying Pia.
"Now, move one of the trailing vehicles into position; let them handle those motorcycles. No shooting yet. Just box them out," I command, my voice sharp, every syllable a strike of authority. The execution is swift, with our team's vehicles rapidly sliding into place. Momentarily caught off guard, the motorcycles find themselves hemmed in, their role in this high-stakes chase neutralized without escalating to violence.
This dance of metal and asphalt unfolds with our convoy enveloping Pia's, a tactical embrace that leaves no room for escape. Our every move is choreographed, yet unpredictable. As we inch closer to confrontation, the air thickens with anticipation, and we are ready, prepared for the unexpected.
The momentary stillness shatters as gunfire erupts from the trailing SUV in Pia's convoy. The unexpected assault gives the motorcycles—their riders now blatant threats—the opening they need. They dart through traffic with reckless and calculated speed, swiftly closing the gap to our leading SUVs.
I glimpse at least five motorcyclists, each armed and dangerously focused. "No shooting at the lead SUV! Pia's in there!" I bark out, the force of my command underlined by the potential risk to her.
Inside our SUV, tension spikes. Every man, including myself, has a gun ready. Even our driver keeps one hand on the wheel and the other on his weapon. The cabin is a tight space of controlled chaos, guns clicking into readiness, a silent vow to protect and reclaim.
As we pull ahead, drawing even with the SUV carrying Pia, the surrounding traffic recedes into a standstill, a bubble of conflict isolating us from the ordinary flow of the city. A window slides open from the passenger side of the lead SUV, and the burst of gunfire aimed at us slices through the air. Our driver, reacting with split-second precision, decelerates just enough to let the bullets fly past.
With deadly accuracy, Darrel returns fire, hitting the shooter, who clutches his chest in a futile attempt to steady his high-powered gun.
"Shit!" The exclamation rips from me as I witness the trailing SUV roll over in my peripheral vision. "Joshua, make sure everyone's accounted for!" I shout over the din, the weight of command heavy on my shoulders. Our focus splits between the shootout with the motorcycles and the safety of our team, the stakes mounting with each passing second.
