Chapter 275: Leaving for Ryan’s

Liam sat down slowly on the edge of the chair beside Vanessa, running a hand through his still slightly damp hair. His voice was calm, but there was an edge of seriousness in it.

“Is there a way to reverse the serum’s effect?” he asked.

Vanessa didn’t answer immediately. She leaned back, arms crossed as her eyes lingered on the screen. Then she shook her head.

“No,” she said, her voice flat. “I can’t create an antidote for it. The serum binds with the user’s internal energy pathways—like fusing itself with their system. Once it’s in, it rewires them. It’s not just a drug… it changes how they function. The best thing we can do is stop it from happening in the first place.”

Liam sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. His thoughts were racing.

Stopping hundreds of people from using the serum was a massive task. It would take manpower, time, and strategy. And even then, most of them were already loyal to the Crimson Hand. The best move wasn’t to deal with the users…

It was to cut off their supply.

Liam’s jaw tightened as the idea sank in.

“We need to find their source,” he said aloud.

Vanessa raised her head from the screen and turned toward him, her eyebrows drawing together.

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” she asked. “You don’t even know who their suppliers are, or how it’s being distributed. Hell, we don’t even know where their lab is.”

Liam didn’t flinch.

“We’ll infiltrate them. Somehow,” he said. “Find a way inside the Crimson Hand. Get close enough to figure out where they’re getting this crap from.”

Vanessa leaned back again, silent for a moment. Then she gave a small nod.

“Then you’ll have to tell that to Lilith,” she said. “We’ve got too many jobs already and not enough people to handle them. If there’s going to be a new plan, she needs to be in the loop.”

Liam nodded slowly. That was fair.

Vanessa pushed her chair back and stood. She walked across the room and glanced out the window. Her eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the quiet neighborhood beyond the glass.

“The disguised police are gone,” she muttered to herself.

She moved to the fireplace and reached under one of the thick wooden logs. Her fingers felt around until they found the button underneath. With a soft click, the mechanism activated. A section of the wall shifted, and the secret underground stairway opened.

She turned back to Liam and Lana who were still watching her.

“I’m going out to get something,” she said to them. “I’ll be back by evening.”

Liam gave a simple nod, and Lana did the same.

Without another word, Vanessa turned and descended the stairs. As she disappeared into the underground chamber, the hidden door quietly sealed shut behind her.

The moment her feet touched the floor below, the motion sensors activated. Lights flickered on in a slow wave, illuminating the high-tech room in full.

The chamber was clean, sleek, and filled with advanced equipment—racks of weapons, suits, gadgets, and tools neatly stored all around the metallic walls. It felt like a fusion of a military lab and a personal armory.

Vanessa walked past a row of sidearms and sleek rifles without sparing them a glance. Her eyes were fixed ahead.

There, in the center of the chamber, encased in reinforced glass, stood a suit.

It looked like a feminine version of a bat-suit—sleek, tight-fitting, flexible. But unlike the heavy gear of traditional combat suits, this one had elegance. Smooth curves and a light build gave it a graceful design. The outer layer shimmered slightly under the light, a special fabric embedded with reinforced mesh plating that provided both protection and movement.

There was a small mask beside the suit, designed only to cover the eyes. The kind of mask that was meant to blend in, not hide. It was made of thin polyglass material and could change shade slightly with light.

She stood still in front of it.

For a few seconds, she didn’t move. Her fingers hovered just above the glass casing.

Then she whispered, “Open.”

With a soft hiss, the casing responded. The glass slid upward, releasing the suit from its protective shell.

Vanessa reached out slowly. Her fingertips touched the material.

The moment her skin made contact, the suit vibrated silently.

She smiled faintly.

Her hand pressed further against the fabric, brushing across the chest. She hadn’t worn this suit in years. Her father gave it to her—custom made, designed for her alone.

She had always kept it hidden away, unsure if she’d ever need it again. But now, things were getting serious.

Then she left the chamber without another word, the door behind her hissed shut. The corridor was dimly lit, illuminated only by blue LED strips embedded into the walls. Her shadow stretched ahead of her, tall and sharp, leading the way like a silent partner.

The garage door slid open at her approach, she headed straight for the far corner, where a matte-black motorcycle sat under a suspended light, gleaming like it had been waiting just for her.

She approached it, her fingers trailing briefly along the curved metal. It purred to life beneath her as she started it.

The garage doors opened and she rode out without hesitation.

The city was alive. Her bike weaved between traffic with ease, smooth and fluid, like it belonged to the night. Vanessa moved through the city like smoke—seen, but untouchable.

She was headed to Detective Ryan’s house. Four minutes into the ride, she caught it in the side mirror first. A dark van two cars behind her. Unremarkable at first glance—but it had changed lanes when she did. Then came the second sign. A silver sedan pulling out from a side street, falling in behind the van. Then another car joined, blacked-out windows, no plates on the front.

She didn’t panic.

Instead, she exhaled calmly through her nose, eyes narrowing behind the tinted visor.

At the next intersection, she took a hard left. Then another. Then again. Four turns in total, circling back toward her own starting direction. She checked her mirrors, each time, with subtle flicks of her gaze.

They followed. Every single one.

She shook her head slightly.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath.

Whoever they were, they weren’t amateurs. They were maintaining distance, not drawing too much attention. But they weren’t invisible. Not to her.

She had no time for games. Not tonight.

Vanessa revved the bike a little harder and made another sharp turn, this time disappearing into a narrower road lined with delivery trucks and flickering streetlights.

She had to find a way to dispose of them and she would.

The alley narrowed as she turned into the old delivery zone—rows of parked trucks lining either side like silent sentries. The streetlights above flickered sporadically, casting erratic shadows that danced across the pavement.

Vanessa eased off the throttle, her bike rolling to a slower pace. She pulled it up beside a truck with a dented bumper and killed the lights, though she kept the engine idling—a quiet hum in the stillness. Swinging her leg off, she landed with barely a sound, her boots making soft contact with the concrete. She left the bike parked as it was, helmet still on, visor down, one gloved hand resting on the seat.

She then heard the sound of tires, not screeching. Smooth and Controlled.

The van rolled in first, dark and deliberate. Its headlights swept the lot before dimming to low beams. Behind it, the two cars followed with surgical precision, fanning out just like they’d practiced it before. She watched them from the shadows, still as stone, eyes tracking each movement.

A faint smile touched her lips.

These weren’t thugs off the street. Their spacing, timing, the way they moved—these people were trained. Professionals. Which only confirmed what she’d already suspected: someone had sent them.

She slid back into the shadows between two trucks, silent and smooth, her suit blending into the darkness like it was made for this.

She could feel their presence now. Doors cracking open and voices, low and deliberate.

She exhaled quietly.

Vanessa wasn’t afraid of a fight. She’d handled worse. But tonight wasn’t the night for noise. She had somewhere to be. She needed to lose them, preferably without leaving bodies behind.

The van doors swung open with swift precision, and from within stepped figures clad in matte-black tactical armor. SWAT.

Their formation, their movement—it was unmistakable. Each of them wore full-body gear, visors down, assault rifles gripped tight. Suppressors. Laser sights. Muffled comms crackled faintly as they fanned out.

Two to the left, two to the right, one covering the rear. Another emerged from the second car with a shoulder-mounted scanner, sweeping the area methodically. The rest followed suit, spreading through the lot with military efficiency.

Vanessa watched from her cover between the trucks. Her body still. Breath controlled.
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This wasn’t random, they weren’t here to scare her, they were here to catch her.

Her bike idled quietly where she had left it, sitting in plain sight. Bait—just as she intended. One of the operatives approached it cautiously, raising his fist to signal the others. He gestured to the bike, then pointed toward the surrounding trucks, indicating a possible ambush.

They didn’t charge in recklessly.

Vanessa’s fingers curled lightly, the reinforced gloves tightening around her palms.

A dozen armed professionals in tight formation, scanning every shadow, ready for confrontation.

She didn’t shy away from one, but if she could help it… she’d rather disappear. She needed to reach Ryan.

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