Page 9 of Beautiful Scars: Unshakeable

The cityscape shifts gradually. Broken streetlights give way to decorative lampposts. Crumbling sidewalks transform into manicured lawns. The van slows as we enter Valley Heights—where old money lives behind pristine hedges and private security patrols.

My grip tightens on the wheel when the van turns onto Maple Grove Drive. The houses here start at seven figures, each set back from the road behind gates and cameras.

It's unusual, but perfect cover for an operation like this. Who'd question a transition house in a neighborhood like this where discretion is currency?

The van slows in front of a sprawling colonial with a circular drive. The wrought iron gates swing open smoothly, securitycameras tracking the vehicle's approach. I cruise past, noting the subtle details that most would miss—motion sensors disguised as landscape lighting, reinforced non-reflective windows behind delicate appearing scrollwork, sight lines cleared of any visual obstructions.

I pull onto a side street and kill the engine, going over the obvious security measures. The setup mirrors our own house protocols, but elevated. Multiple layers, each designed to look less than what they are to anyone who doesn't know what they're looking at.

"Hiding in plain sight," I mutter, admiring the elegance of it. Rich neighborhood with high security already the accepted standard. A perfect sanctuary for women fleeing dangerous men—or at least, that's how it would appear to someone desperate for safety.

My phone buzzes. Colt.

"You follow them?"

"Yeah. Got an address in Valley Heights. Place is locked down tight—professional security setup disguised as standard rich person paranoia.

"Makes sense," Colt says. "Perfect cover for keeping women 'safe' from abusive exes. No one questions tight security in that kind of neighborhood."

"Exactly." I start the car, mind already mapping the compound's weaknesses. "I'm going to text you the exact address. Get one of the guys started on digging into property records, utility bills, anything connected to this address. See if there's a paper trail or anything else leading to Garrett."

"On it. You heading back?"

"Yeah. Gimme twenty."

I take a different route back, ensuring I'm not followed.

The rage builds in my chest, but I force it down. Getting angry won't help find her. We need precision. Strategy. Garrett is smarter than we've given him credit for. A lot smarter.

Every part of this is deliberate—from the moment those women stepped into the ER to the second those gates closed behind them. This isn’t some sloppy backroom deal. This is a machine.

The house lights are still on when I get back. Through the window, I can see Colt at the kitchen table, surrounded by laptops and stacks of paper. Time to get to work. We’re close. And if this is the machine that took her? I’ll tear it apart, gear by gear.

Chapter Five

Zane

Onceinside,Iheadstraight for my office and lock the door behind me. I don't need any distractions while I try to work this out.

I stare at the papers spread across the table, my vision starting to blur from exhaustion and overthinking.

New Dawn Transitions. The name nags at me. I know I've heard it before. Seen it before.

My phone buzzes. Colt from his spot downstairs.

"Got preliminary data on New Dawn. They registered as a non-profit, specializing in domestic violence assistance almost fifteen years ago. A big part of their mission seems to be helping women in emergency situations relocate and get a fresh start somewhere else." Papers rustle on his end. "Clean financials, perfect paper trail."

"How perfect?"

"Like it was designed to withstand some pretty heavy scrutiny. I sent you over some of the details." Colt pauses. "Levi'shere. He's still ready to tear the city apart, but he's channeling it better.

Hey, one more thing. It could be nothing, but it's a little strange." Colt's voice is hesitant. "I can only access records going back a little over six years, but this place seems to be heavily funded through donations.Bigdonations. They aren't regular or anything, but they line up perfectly with some of the relocation paperwork."

I sort through another stack of surveillance photos. "How much money are we talking? For these donations?"

"It varies. But never anything under a million. Most the time we're talking two to five."

I let out a low whistle. "That's some serious cash. How often?"

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