Chapter 03 No Way Out

Avery looked at him, not responding immediately.

Her mind was already working.

*Meant for her? With explosives?*

She wasn't a security expert, but she wasn't stupid. The villa's windows were bulletproof. The hallways had motion sensors. Every corner had cameras. If someone just wanted to kill her, a single sniper shot would have sufficed.

The moment she stepped out of the study—that would have been the perfect opportunity.

Using explosives meant someone wanted to create chaos. To breach the defenses of this house.

To get to *him*.

She looked at Dominic.

"That bullet wasn't meant for me."

Avery took a breath, forcing the residual smoke from her lungs, steadying her voice.

"I'm the only variable. I'm just the buy-one-get-one-free bonus they threw in to get to you."

The corner of Dominic's mouth twitched—a faint, unreadable curve.

"You're very smart."

It wasn't a compliment. Avery felt it land like a hawk's talons closing around its prey. This deeper entanglement with danger should have terrified her. And yet, somewhere deep in her chest, an absurd, almost shameful part of her—the part she refused to acknowledge—felt a flicker of satisfaction at being recognized by a man who stood at the pinnacle of power.

He held her gaze for a moment, then turned away without responding.

The gunfire gradually subsided. Dominic took a brief call, exchanged a few clipped words, and hung up. He looked at her.

"Come with me."

He led her through the corridor into a windowless room. Grey walls, metal furniture—it looked like an interrogation room. A single table, two chairs, a camera mounted on the wall.

He pressed a remote. A screen on the wall flickered to life—surveillance feeds from every corner of the villa.

"Sit."

Avery didn't move. Her attention fixed on the darkened camera feeds on the screen.

"Three entry points blown." Dominic leaned against the table, watching her. "Two bulletproof windows shattered. They used military-grade explosives."

Her fingertips went cold.

The door opened. Drake entered, placing a phone on the table.

"Boss, we just intercepted an encrypted transmission." He kept his head lowered. "It was sent to the East Dock. Someone's instructing them to tamper with your shipment tonight."

Dominic's gaze darkened. "Source?"

"The signal originated in the north part of the city. The encryption matches the method used in the warehouse incident."

"Track it. Don't tip them off."

Drake nodded and withdrew.

Avery stood to the side, absorbing the exchange.

Explosion. East Dock. The same night.

She said nothing. But she connected the two events in her mind.

Before leaving, Drake paused. He pulled a transparent evidence bag from his pocket and placed it on the table.

"Found at the blast site. Retrieved from the debris—it doesn't belong to the villa."

Dominic glanced down, saying nothing. He waited until Drake had left before picking up the evidence bag and emptying its contents onto the table.

The moment the black diamond ring engraved with a "D" rolled out onto the surface, Avery's mind went completely blank.

The night the storm had swallowed the gambling ship flooded back in an instant.

The weight of the stranger pressing down on her, so heavy she could barely breathe—it crashed over her, overwhelming.

And afterward, after he had left, she had curled up alone in the tangled sheets, staring at the black diamond ring discarded beside her—her entire body shaking violently.

It all came rushing back.

"You recognize this." Dominic's voice shattered the cage of memory.

Avery's teeth clamped together, her jaw tight. She instinctively hid her trembling hands beneath the long table, her nails digging deep into her palms.

Dominic missed nothing. He caught every micro-movement.

She could feel his gaze like a blade, tracing slowly down the side of her face, finally landing on her violently shaking hands.

He had countless methods to break her here, to interrogate her until she cracked. He could have forced every detail out of her.

But after several seconds of suffocating silence, Dominic simply slipped the black diamond ring back into his suit pocket.

He didn't press.

"I've seen something similar." Avery evaded his piercing scrutiny.

"Where?"

She didn't answer. Her hands trembled. She kept them hidden beneath the table, refusing to let him see.

Dominic watched her for a few seconds. His gaze traveled from her face down to her concealed hands. It lingered for just a moment.

Then he pocketed the ring without pressing further.

"Today's attack—it was Wenger."

Avery's head snapped up. "My mentor?"

"Yes."

"He has no reason—" She stopped. A contradiction stabbed at her throat like a splinter. "If he wanted to kill you, why did he send me to treat you?"

Dominic held her gaze, not answering immediately.

Silence stretched between them. She could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.

"Doesn't it seem inconsistent?" Avery's voice steadied. "He recommended me to take over his work. He sent me here to treat you. And on the other side, he's bombing your house. What is he actually trying to achieve?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. But those two actions don't make sense together."

Dominic was silent for two seconds. His long fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic pattern against the table.

"How long have you known Wenger?

"Six years."

"Do you think you know him?"

Avery didn't answer.

Six years. She had studied under him, done research, written papers. He had been her mentor, her guide. When she was at her lowest, he had given her a teaching assistant position so she could care for her brother while continuing her studies.

But she realized, with a sudden pang, that she truly knew very little about him.

Dominic's voice was flat. "Wenger isn't the man you think he is. He was my doctor for many years. I trusted him. He knew my medical history, my physical condition—better than anyone."

He paused.

"And then he had my house bombed."

Avery said nothing. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white.

"A doctor who's been with me for years suddenly tries to kill me. Don't you wonder why?"

"Why?"

"Because someone's behind him." Dominic's voice turned cold. "He's not the mastermind. He's just a pawn."

"Then why don't you—"

"Don't what? Kill him?" He cut her off. "He's dying anyway. What would be the point?"

Avery froze. "Dying?"

"Pancreatic cancer. Late stage. He doesn't have long."

She stared at him, her mind reeling. Wenger had never told her. His pallor, the trembling of his hands, his increasingly frequent absences—the details came flooding back, clicking into place like puzzle pieces.

"So you're keeping him alive to find out who's behind him."

"Yes."

"And me?" Avery's voice tightened. "Are you keeping me because I'm his pawn too?"

Dominic looked at her and didn't deny it.

"You're his student. He trusts you. Or at least, he thinks he can control you. As long as you're here, he feels secure."

"So you're using me too."

"Yes." His tone was flat. "Just like he's using you."

Avery's nails pressed deep into her palms. Pain radiated from her hands to her wrists, but she didn't let go.

"I need Wenger's complete medical records," she said. "The ones you have—"

"They were destroyed in the explosion."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"The archive room was in the blast zone. Most of the paper records burned." Dominic's voice betrayed no emotion. "The electronic backups are on Wenger's servers. His encryption. I can't access them."

Avery stared at him, searching for any crack in his expression. His face was an impenetrable wall.

"You need those records to treat me," Dominic said. "And the records are with Wenger. If you want them, you'll have to go to him."

"You want me to find Wenger?"

"Yes."

"You've had me locked in this house since yesterday—I can't even walk down the hallway alone. Now you want me to walk right up to the man who just bombed your house?"

Her voice came out louder than intended. She could feel her composure slipping.

Dominic watched her. His expression didn't change, but she knew he was studying her.

"Do you have a better idea?"

She didn't answer. She didn't.

"Aren't you afraid I won't come back?"

Dominic held her gaze for two seconds. "You'll come back." His tone was absolute—a statement of fact, not hope.

That certainty ignited something in Avery's chest—a flash of pure, hot anger.

He knew about her sick brother. He knew about her clinic. He knew all her weaknesses, all the threads that tethered her to this world.

Before this depth of insight—this dissection of her very soul—she had no secrets. None at all.

Dominic pulled something from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. Her phone.

"Twenty-four hours. Don't disappoint me." He turned and walked toward the door.

Avery grabbed the phone. The screen lit up with a cascade of unread messages from Kate, her caretaker.

The latest one, sent just two minutes ago:

"Someone broke into the house. Dorothea has been taken."

Avery stared at those words. Her heart stuttered, and the phone nearly slipped from her fingers.

Her mind went blank. She instinctively moved toward the door, only to be stopped by a guard.

She shoved the phone screen in his face, her voice raw. "My daughter has been taken. If you stop me now and something happens to her, you can explain it to your boss."

The guard hesitated for a second. Then the radio crackled.

Dominic's voice, only two words: "Let her go."

Avery ran out of the villa.

The front door of her home was open. Kate sat on the couch, standing up the moment she saw Avery, tears streaming down her face.

"Two men came—they said they were from your clinic, here to check on the child. I let them in, and then Dorothea—"

Avery didn't wait to hear the rest. She kicked open her daughter's bedroom door.

The little girl who should have been sitting on the carpet drawing was gone.

Avery's gaze froze on the empty room—

Broken crayons scattered across the floor. The small cotton rabbit plush that had been her daughter's companion for six years, its ears frayed and worn, lying alone on the edge of the bed.

On the windowsill, a note fluttered in the wind, its rustling sound sharp and grating:

"The child is safe. It's time for you to come find us."

In that instant, the broken crayons and the abandoned rabbit blazed in Avery's vision—turned blood-red by the fury and desperation flooding her heart.

She would walk into any hell for the laughter in this room. Even if it meant offering herself up to the devil who controlled this entire city.

Footsteps sounded from outside the door.

"Dr. Clair. Come with us."