Chapter 5: Truth
999 Words
_4:22pm. Police Precinct, Downtown LA._
Detective Reyes didn’t look happy to see her.
“Elena.” He shut his office door. “You’re supposed to be staying away from Voss.”
Elena sat. Didn’t fidget.
“I have a photo of my sister. Tied to a chair.”
She slid it across his desk.
Reyes picked it up. Swore. “This is from Marco. He’s baiting you.”
“It’s two weeks old,” she said. “Damian said so.”
Reyes’ head snapped up. “You’re talking to him?”
“I’m working with him.”
“You’re not working with anyone. You’re being groomed.” He leaned forward. “Voss has a body count, Elena. Three girls. All disappeared after meeting him at Velvet.”
“My sister’s one of them.”
“And you think he’s going to give her back?”
“I think he’s the only one who knows where she is.”
Reyes rubbed his face. “Wear a wire. Tonight. 3am. Get him to say where she is on tape and we can pull him in.”
Elena stared at the badge on his desk.
“And if he finds it?”
“Then you’re already dead.”
She stood. “I’ll think about it.”
She didn’t.
---
_2:55am. The Cecil. Suite 404._
The red dress was in her closet. She didn’t wear it.
Black jeans. Black shirt. Boots.
Damian opened the door and clocked it immediately.
“No red.”
“No.”
He studied her for a long second, then stepped aside.
Inside: same chair. Same table. But tonight there were two glasses. And a file folder.
“Rule 5,” he said. “Tell me one truth.”
Elena stayed standing. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He poured wine. Didn’t drink it. “One truth. And I give you one truth back.”
She laughed. “Trading secrets? That’s the game?”
“It’s the only game that matters.”
Silence. The city outside was loud.
“Fine,” she said. “Truth. I hate you.”
Damian didn’t blink.
“I know,” he said. “My turn.”
He opened the file. Photos. Maya. Working at Marco’s club. Pouring drinks. Smiling at a customer.
“She’s not a prisoner,” Damian said. “She took the job. To pay your legal debt.”
The words hit like a slap.
“That’s a lie.”
“Check the timestamps.” He slid the photos over.
Elena picked one up. Date: 3 months ago. Before Maya’s last text to her.
Her hands went cold.
“You’re lying,” she whispered.
“Truth for a truth, Elena. I don’t lie in this room.”
She dropped the photo. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did she do it? Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because she thought you’d try to save her and get yourself killed.”
Damian came around the table. Stopped two feet away.
“My turn to ask,” he said. “Have you talked to the cops?”
Elena’s throat went dry.
Rule 5. One truth.
“Yes.”
The air changed.
Damian’s expression didn’t. But his eyes went flat.
“Did you wear a wire?”
“No.”
“Are you lying?”
“No.”
He watched her. Like he could see the lie if there was one.
Finally he nodded. “Good. Because if you had, you wouldn’t be leaving this room.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was just fact.
He picked up the second glass and held it out.
“Drink.”
“Why?”
“Because you look like you’re about to fall apart, and I don’t do crying in my suite.”
She took it. The wine burned.
“Rule 5 is done,” he said. “You told the truth. So did I.”
“What now?”
“Now we find Maya before Marco decides she’s worth more dead than alive.”
He pulled out his phone. Typed.
A location pinged back. An address downtown. Warehouse district.
He showed her the screen.
“Marco moved her 2 hours ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I pay better than he does.”
Elena set the glass down. “We’re going?”
“We are.”
“Tonight?”
“Now.”
He grabbed his jacket. Tossed her one too. Black. Too big. It smelled like him.
“One more rule,” he said at the door. “Rule 5b. Stay behind me.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then I can’t promise you’ll come out.”
---
_3:40am. Warehouse District._
The building was dark. No lights. One door.
Damian didn’t knock. He kicked it in.
Inside: empty. Chains on the floor. A chair. Rope.
And on the wall, written in red: _Thanks for playing. - M_
Elena’s stomach dropped.
“He’s gone.”
“He’s moving her,” Damian said. Already on his phone. “And he wants us to chase.”
He turned to her.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good. Don’t be.”
He grabbed her hand. Not romantic. Just to pull her out.
In the car, he drove like hell.
“You told Reyes,” he said. Not a question.
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him about the 90 nights?”
“No.”
“Keep it that way.”
He glanced at her.
“You’re shaking again.”
“I’m angry.”
“Use it.”
His phone rang. He put it on speaker.
A voice. Distorted. “Mr. Voss. You have something I want.”
“Marco.”
“Bring the girl. Alone. Or I send you pieces of her sister.”
Click.
Elena looked at Damian.
“Rule 6,” he said. “Don’t ask questions.”
“What’s Rule 6?”
“You’ll find out at 3am.”
He floored it.
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