Barry drove alone to Fifth and Main. The streets were empty—Alexander had made sure of that. The location was a abandoned textile factory, the same kind of place where dramatic confrontations happened in stories about power and betrayal.
He parked the car in the center of the main floor and got out. The factory was dark, lit only by moonlight streaming through broken windows. His footsteps echoed on the concrete as he walked deeper into the building.
"I'm here!" he called out. "I'm alone. Let Isabella go."
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then lights came on, revealing the warehouse more clearly. Alexander Park stepped out of the shadows, flanked by armed men. And beside him was Isabella, her hands bound, fear evident in her eyes.
"You came," Alexander said, smiling. "I wasn't sure
