Chapter 6 - THE TRAP IS SETThe next morning, the digital world outside was screaming my name.
Sitting in the massive, high-tech command center tucked deep inside the fortress’s basement—flanked by monitors displaying live security feeds, police scanner frequencies, and local news broadcasts—I watched my own face flash across the screen.
MISSING: LOCAL ER NURSE EMILY CARTER BELIEVED ABDUCTED BY NOTORIOUS CRIME BOSS.
The news anchor’s voice droned on, broadcasting manufactured panic orchestrated entirely by Detective Reed. They were painting me as an innocent, helpless victim dragged into the dark underworld against my will. It was a clever play by Reed and Viktor Vance: by making me a high-profile public missing person, they forced the police department to scour every square inch of Chicago, effectively flushing out any safehouses or properties connected to Grant Mercer.
“They’re using you as bait,” said a sharp voice beside me.
I turned my head. A brilliant, computer-savvy young woman named Maya—Grant’s chief intelligence analyst, who had been hacking into police databases all night—pushed her glasses up her nose and tapped a key on her glowing console.
“Look at this,” Maya said, bringing up a complex web of financial transactions on the monitor. “Detective Reed didn't just leak your name to the press. Two hours ago, three hundred thousand dollars was wired from an offshore shell corporation directly into Reed’s personal bank account. The source account? A front company owned by Viktor Vance.”
My stomach churned. “So Reed isn't just corrupt. He’s Vance’s direct puppet inside the CPD.”
“Bingo,” Maya muttered, typing furiously. “And right now, Reed’s task force is mobilizing a raid on your old apartment building, claiming an anonymous tip placed you there. They’re walking right into a trap.”
“A trap?” I frowned. “Whose trap?”
“Vance’s,” a deep voice rumbled from the doorway.
Grant stepped into the command center, shedding his jacket over a chair. He looked ice-cold, every movement calculated and precise.
“Vance thinks he’s cornered us,” Grant explained, walking up behind Maya’s chair and leaning over the console. “He leaked your disappearance to force my hand, expecting me to send men to recover your belongings or secure your apartment. When my men arrive, Reed’s corrupt task force will ambush them, sparking a massive shootout that Vance can blame entirely on my syndicate.”
“And the police will declare open season on us,” I realized, the horrifying puzzle pieces falling into place.
“Exactly,” Grant agreed, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Which is why we are going to use their own trap against them.”
“How?” I asked.
Grant flashed a dangerous, razor-thin smile.
“We let them raid your apartment. We let them find what they’re looking for. And right when Detective Reed thinks he has won... we pull the rug out from under his entire operation.”
“What do you want me to do?” I asked, my heart pounding with a mixture of terror and a strange, intoxicating rush of defiance.
May you like
Grant walked over, stopping just inches away from me. He reached out, his warm fingers gently brushing against my arm.
“I need you to help me send a message to Detective Reed. A message he will never, ever forget.”
