Chapter 5 - UNEARTHING THE PASTElena drove for forty-five minutes without saying a word, taking unpredictable turns through the city to ensure they weren't being followed. They finally pulled up to an abandoned industrial shipyard on the outskirts of the harbor.
Inside a rusty, retrofitted shipping container equipped with computer monitors, surveillance maps, and tactical gear, Elena threw a thick dossier onto a metal table in front of Sofia.
"This is Dmitry Volkov," Elena said, tapping a photo of Julian. "He doesn't work alone. He's part of a high-end criminal syndicate known as 'The Hourglass.' They target wealthy individuals with no immediate family, construct perfect fake identities, and execute 'accidental deaths' to claim vast estates."
Sofia flipped through the horrifying pages. There were photos of four other women—young, wealthy, smiling—each beside "Julian" under different names and disguises. All four women were dead.
"Why didn't the police catch him?" Sofia wept, covering her mouth.
"Because he pays off local authorities, uses untraceable offshore accounts, and leaves no physical evidence," Elena replied bitterly. "The only mistake he made this time was buying that dog collar."
Sofia looked up. "The collar? Did you plant it?"
Elena gave a small, bitter smile. "I intercepted the delivery package two days ago, installed the camera, and re-stitched it before the courier dropped it off at your house. I needed ironclad video evidence of him admitting to the plot. Thanks to your dog pulling you away, we have him on tape planning your murder."
"Then why aren't we going to the FBI?" Sofia asked desperately.
Elena turned to face her, her eyes blazing with a dark, terrifying intensity. "Because the head of the local federal task force investigating your family's trust is on Dmitry’s payroll. If you go to the police right now, you'll be dead before you reach the station lobby. We have to trap him ourselves."
Suddenly, Rich let out a sharp, urgent bark.
On the bank of security monitors inside the shipping container, red lights began flashing. A perimeter alarm went off, echoing through the empty yard.
Sofia stared at the screen in horror.
A fleet of three black sedans had just surrounded the shipping container. Stepping out of the lead vehicle was Julian—Dmitry—holding a heavy black pistol equipped with a suppressor.
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He walked calmly toward the container, elevated his face directly toward the hidden camera lens, and smiled sinisterly.
"Sofia, my love," his voice echoed through the external comms speaker on the monitor. "Did you really think your phone was the only thing I was tracking? Your little dog has a microchip embedded in his neck from the vet I chose last year. I’ve known where you were every second of the night."
