His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 566 Searching

The mountain night had gone from peaceful to predatory in under twenty minutes.

Outside the lounge, the forest had become a hunting ground.

Dark figures moved through the trees with silent precision, Leo’s men fanning out in a carefully coordinated sweep. They wore dark clothing, moved without sound, and carried weapons that gleamed dully in the thin moonlight. Each one communicated through discreet earpieces, their voices low, clipped, professional.

The perimeter around the lounge had been transformed.

Guards now stood at every entrance, every path, every possible approach. They did not look like guards. They looked like guests smoking, staff taking breaks, drivers waiting by cars. But their eyes never stopped moving. Their hands never strayed far from concealed holsters.

The tree line was being methodically searched.

Leo stood near the edge of the property, partially hidden by the shadow of a large pine. His dark clothing blended with the night, his posture utterly still, his gray eyes scanning the darkness with the patience of a predator.

His phone buzzed. He glanced down.

Bella: Still fine. Hazel just did a shot. It was adorable. Don’t worry.

Despite everything, the corner of his mouth twitched. He typed back:

Keep laughing. Keep smiling. Don’t look for him. I’m handling it.

Bella: I know. I trust you.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket, the warmth of her words a brief flicker against the cold focus in his chest.

His earpiece crackled.

"Northern perimeter clear. No sign."

"Eastern tree line clear. Nothing."

"Western approach. No movement. All quiet."

Leo’s jaw tightened. Twenty minutes. They had been searching for twenty minutes, and there was no trace of the hooded figure. No footprints. No disturbed foliage. No camera angle that showed him leaving.

It was like he had vanished into thin air.

Whoever this was, he was not an amateur.

Leo began walking the perimeter himself, his eyes tracing every shadow, every gap between trees. His men knew better than to approach. They simply adjusted their positions, creating a moving bubble of security around him as he moved.

Ten more minutes passed.

Then—

"Boss."

The voice in his earpiece was sharp, urgent. One of his forward scouts.

"We found someone."

Leo’s stride did not change, but something in his eyes sharpened to a razor edge. "Location."

"Old maintenance shed, about two hundred meters east of the lounge. Hidden in the trees. Male subject. Dark clothing. Fits the description."

"Alive?"

A pause. Then: "Yes, boss. We’ve got him contained. He’s not armed, at least nothing we’ve found yet. But he was watching. Had binoculars. A camera with a long lens."

Leo’s hand curled into a fist at his side.

"Don’t move him. Don’t touch him. I’m coming."

He ended the call and moved through the trees like smoke, his men falling into formation around him without a word. The mountain night swallowed them whole.

Two minutes later, he emerged into a small clearing.

The maintenance shed was old, rusted, half hidden by overgrowth, the kind of place someone would find only if they knew exactly where to look. Two of Leo’s men stood outside, their weapons trained on the open doorway.

Inside, another guard held a man pinned against the wall.

Leo stepped into the shed.

The man was young, mid twenties, maybe, with a thin, nervous face and eyes that went wide with terror the moment he saw who had entered. He wore a dark hoodie, now pushed back to reveal sweat damp hair and a trembling jaw. A pair of high powered binoculars hung from a strap around his neck. A camera with a massive telephoto lens sat on a nearby crate, confiscated.

"Please," the man gasped, his voice high with panic. "Please, I wasn’t. I didn’t."

Leo did not speak.

He simply stood there, filling the small space with his presence, his gray eyes fixed on the man with an intensity that made the temperature feel like it had dropped below freezing.

One of his men handed him the camera.

Leo scrolled through the images slowly. Deliberately.

Photos of the lounge. Photos of the windows. Photos of the women inside, laughing, drinking, dancing.

And then photos of Bella.

Close ups. Her face in profile. Her smile as she talked to Lyra. Her hand lifting her glass. The soft light catching her hair.

Dozens of them.

Leo’s expression did not change. But something in the air around him grew heavier. Darker.

He looked up from the camera.

The man on the wall stopped breathing.

"Who sent you?" Leo’s voice was quiet. Calm. The kind of calm that preceded storms.

"No one. No one sent me, I swear. I just. I’m just a photographer."

"You’re a photographer who hides in the woods at night and takes pictures of women through windows."

"I sell them, okay? To websites. Tabloids. People pay for exclusive content. Celebrities, rich families, weddings." The man’s words tumbled out in a desperate rush. "I wasn’t going to hurt anyone. I just take pictures. It’s just a job."

Leo stared at him.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Then Leo took a single step closer.

"Do you know who I am?"

The man’s eyes went impossibly wider. He nodded, a jerky, terrified motion.

"Do you know who that woman is?" Leo gestured with the camera toward the images of Bella.

Another nod. More tears now, sliding down pale cheeks.

Leo tilted his head slightly, studying him like a scientist studying a specimen.

"You took two hundred and seventeen photos of my wife tonight."

The man made a small, strangled whimper.

Leo handed the camera back to his man. Then he pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to Bella.

Found him. Safe. Keep enjoying the party.

He looked up again.

"Delete every image," he said quietly. "All of them. Every copy, every backup, every cloud storage account. Then give my men every name, every client, every website, every person who has ever paid you for a photo."

The man nodded frantically, sweat dripping down his face. "Yes. Yes, I will. I’ll do anything. Anything you want. I’ll delete everything, give you every name. Please, just don’t."

He trailed off, gasping for air, relief flooding his features when Leo did not immediately respond.

Leo said nothing.

His gray eyes moved slowly over the man, the trembling hands, the terrified expression, the cheap hoodie, the nervous twitch in his jaw. His men waited in perfect stillness, watching for the signal that would end this.

But Leo’s mind was elsewhere.