Chapter 4 - Ambush at the SafehouseHook“They thought they were raiding an unprotected farmhouse to snatch a child. They didn't realize they were walking straight into a trap set by a man with nothing left to lose.”
My heart hammered against my ribs as my driver tore through the torrential rain toward the safehouse in upstate New York. Marcus was in the passenger seat, chambering a round into his sidearm.
"The signal went dead three minutes ago, Rob," Marcus grunted, monitoring a tactical tablet. "They used a high-frequency EMP blast to fry the local comms grid. These aren't street thugs. This is a mercenary team."
"If anything happens to that girl, Marcus..."
"We'll get there," Marcus snapped. "Hold on!"
The limousine careened up the muddy driveway of the secluded estate. The front gates had been rammed open, the heavy steel lying twisted in the mud.
We hit the ground running. Rain soaked through my thousand-dollar suit as Marcus led the way, weapon drawn. The front door of the estate was hanging off its hinges. Inside, the lights were out, the furniture overturned, and the sharp scent of ozone and gunpowder filled the air.
"Lily!" I roared, throwing caution to the wind. "Lily!"
A sudden rustle came from the second-floor balcony. Marcus raised his weapon—but stopped.
Down the grand staircase stepped a figure dressed in tactical gear, bleeding from a shoulder wound. It was one of Marcus’s men.
"Sir..." the guard gasped, holding his arm. "They took her..."
My blood ran cold. "Where?"
"They had... insider access," the guard choked out. "They knew the exact blueprint of the panic room. They took the girl, and... and they left a message for you in the study."
I sprinted down the hallway into the study.
Nailed to the antique mahogany desk with a combat knife was a piece of paper. On it was written a single address in the industrial port area of Brooklyn, along with a time stamp: 11:00 PM.
Below the text was a small, bloody handprint.
"Rob," Marcus said, stepping into the room behind me, holding his satellite phone. "I just ran a background check on the director of that orphanage—Patricia Wilson. The one who gave you Lily’s file yesterday."
"What about her?"
"Her offshore accounts just received a $2 million wire transfer two hours ago. Traced back to a proxy account owned by your COO... James."
The betrayal hit like a sledgehammer. My own second-in-command, the man who sat across from me in every board meeting for five years, was on Julian Vance-Moreau’s payroll. They had orchestrated the entire runaway incident to lure Lily out, but when I unexpectedly intervened on the sidewalk, their timeline fell apart.
I pulled the knife out of the desk, staring at the bloody handprint on the paper.
"They think I'm just a suit," I said, my voice dropping into a dangerous, icy whisper. "They think because I sit in a corner office, I forgot what it's like to survive in the dirt."
May you like
"What are we doing, Boss?" Marcus asked.
"Call every asset you have," I said, turning to him. "We aren't just going to get Lily back. We're going to tear Julian Vance-Moreau's world down to the bedrock."
