CHAPTER 3 — The Warehouse Where Hope Had Been Buried
Vincenzo Moretti had faced assassins, corrupt governments, and ruthless cartels.
But nothing had ever made his hands shake...
...until he saw the photograph of his daughter.
He stared at Sofia's face for nearly a full minute.
Older.
Thinner.
A scar stretched across her left cheek.
Yet her eyes were exactly the same.
She was alive.
For fifteen years, he had believed he buried an empty future.
Now someone was telling him his daughter had been breathing all this time.
His bodyguards waited in complete silence.
Finally, his second-in-command, Marco, stepped forward.
"Boss... it could be fake."
Vincenzo slowly folded the photograph.
"No."
"I know my daughter."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
The men surrounding him immediately understood what that meant.
Whenever Vincenzo became this quiet...
People died.
"Find the drone."
"It disappeared, Boss."
"Then find whoever launched it."
"The city is too large."
Vincenzo looked toward the frightened little boy.
"Ethan."
The child was still clutching the worn teddy bear.
"Can you show me where they kept your mother?"
The boy hesitated.
"They'll kill you."
A faint smile appeared on Vincenzo's face.
"They've been trying for twenty-five years."
...
Half an hour later...
The convoy left the city and entered an abandoned industrial district.
Broken factories.
Rusted cranes.
Collapsed warehouses.
Rain continued pouring from the black sky.
Ethan suddenly pointed ahead.
"There."
An enormous warehouse stood alone beside the river.
No lights.
No guards.
Too quiet.
Marco frowned.
"Boss... this is wrong."
"It feels empty."
Vincenzo nodded.
"Exactly."
He stepped out of the armored SUV.
His soldiers spread across the area.
Night-vision goggles.
Silenced rifles.
Thermal drones.
Nothing.
No movement.
No heartbeat.
Almost...
As if someone wanted them to believe nobody was inside.
Vincenzo slowly pushed open the warehouse door.
It creaked loudly.
Dust floated through the flashlight beams.
Old chains hung from the ceiling.
Bloodstains covered the concrete floor.
Children's toys were scattered everywhere.
Tiny shoes.
Broken dolls.
A red balloon.
Ethan suddenly stopped walking.
"They cried here."
Everyone froze.
"What?"
"The children."
"They cried every night."
Several bodyguards lowered their heads.
Even hardened killers felt sick.
Vincenzo clenched his fists so tightly that blood ran between his fingers.
Then...
His flashlight landed on the wall.
Hundreds...
No.
Thousands...
Of children's names had been scratched into the concrete.
Some crossed out.
Some ending with dates.
Others ending with only one word.
"Gone."
Marco whispered,
"My God..."
Before anyone could speak again—
CLICK.
The warehouse doors slammed shut.
Metal locks engaged automatically.
The lights turned on.
Dozens of hidden speakers echoed through the building.
The same distorted voice laughed.
"Welcome, Vincenzo."
"I knew you would come."
The floor beneath them suddenly began to vibrate.
Marco's eyes widened.
"Boss..."
"Pressure mines."
"Everybody stop moving!"
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One wrong step...
...and the entire warehouse would explode.
