Police officer stands in a dark warehouse with other officers and body on floor

Jack had been on this case for months, chasing whispers and shadows. A string of high-profile kidnappings had led him to the exclusive Laguna Beach Club, a luxurious but secretive retreat for the rich and powerful. Every lead pointed to Joe—the towering, muscle-bound enforcer who ran security at the club. He was the kind of guy who could snap a man’s neck without breaking a sweat, and Jack had assumed he was the mastermind. But something never quite added up. The kidnappings were too well-planned, too precise for a brute like Joe to be calling the shots. Tonight, Jack had followed a tip to an abandoned warehouse near the docks. Inside, crates were stacked high against the walls, labeled with fake shipping manifests. The air smelled of salt, sawdust, and something else—something Jack couldn’t place, but it made his skin crawl. In the far corner, bound and gagged, were three hostages—two men and a woman, their eyes wide with fear. Jack’s pulse quickened. He was about to cut one loose when heavy footsteps echoed behind him. Joe entered first, his sheer size making the room seem smaller. Behind him was another henchman, just as muscular but with a sharper, more sadistic grin. They dragged a struggling man between them and threw him to the ground with a thud. The hostage let out a muffled cry. Jack had no time to react before another pair of footsteps approached—lighter, more deliberate. Then, she appeared. Sarah. The golden-haired, doe-eyed girl from the club. The one Jack had See more