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The private elevator of Bennett Enterprises opened directly into Alexander’s penthouse office, but tonight, the room felt less like a seat of corporate power and more like a mausoleum. On his mahogany desk sat a heavy, encrypted laptop, glowing with the dark illumination of restricted databases. / Chapter 5 / 10

Chapter 5 - The Rescue From AboveThe threat hung in the air like poison. A tragic hit-and-run near the warehouses.

"Julian, if you touch a single hair on that little girl's head, I swear to God I will tear this entire empire down to the bare dirt and burn your name from history!" Alexander roared into the intercom.

"You're welcome to try, Alex," Julian's voice purred. "Provided you survive the next thirty minutes. The vault's oxygen scrubbers have just been set to purge mode. Goodbye, nephew."

The intercom clicked dead.

Marcus slammed his tablet against the desk in frustration. "He's venting the air! We have less than twenty minutes before the oxygen levels drop to zero!"

Alexander didn't panic. His training as a former military strategist kicked in instantly. "The ventilation shaft. The old intake pipe behind the secondary filing cabinets. It was built during the Cold War as an emergency fallout escape route before my father remodeled the basement."

"That pipe hasn't been cleared in thirty years!" Marcus shouted over the low hiss of the air pressure dropping. "It could be collapsed, blocked, or welded shut!"

"Then we find out now!"

Together, the two men threw their weight against the heavy steel filing cabinets, shoving the massive furniture aside to reveal a rusted iron grate set into the stone wall. Alexander drew his Glock and fired three rapid shots directly into the heavy iron hinges. With a deafening shriek of tearing metal, Marcus kicked the grate inward, sending it clattering into the dark, narrow tunnel beyond.

"Go! Go!" Alexander urged, boosting Marcus into the opening before hauling himself up just as the first wave of dizzying, low-oxygen air made his temples throb.

Crawling through the tight, pitch-black pipe was an exercise in pure claustrophobia. Rust flaked off the corrugated metal walls, cutting into Alexander's hands, but he pushed forward, fueled by a single thought: Thomas. Catherine. The little girl.

After what felt like an eternity, a faint shaft of natural light pierced the darkness ahead. Marcus kicked open an exit grate, tumbling out onto the damp grass behind the Bennett estate’s private greenhouse. Alexander scrambled out right behind him, gasping greedily for the cool, crisp Manhattan morning air.

"We need a vehicle," Alexander panted, wiping soot and blood from his forehead. "Now."

"Don't worry," Marcus said, pulling a encrypted satellite phone from his tactical vest—a backup line Julian's firewall hadn't caught. "I called an extraction team the moment Julian locked us in. Look."

At the edge of the estate's private helipad, a sleek black twin-engine Eurocopter was already touching down, kicking up a flurry of autumn leaves.

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My phone was still pressed against my ear. On the other end, Marcus—my most trusted lieutenant—was breathing heavily. The sound of muffled police radios and shouting filtered through the speaker.

My phone was still pressed against my ear. On the other end, Marcus—my m...

Detective Maria Santos tapped her fingernail against the glossy photograph spread across the metal interrogation table. The overhead fluorescent light hummed, casting a sterile, buzzing shadow over the room.

Detective Maria Santos tapped her fingernail against the glossy photogra...

Katherine did not cry when she walked into their immaculate suburban home. The silence of the empty house, which usually felt lonely on the nights Reginald claimed to be working late, now felt like a tactical advantage.

Katherine did not cry when she walked into their immaculate suburban hom...

"Where to, boss?" the pilot's voice crackled over the radio as Alexander and Marcus yanked open the cabin door and climbed inside.

Alexander strapped himself into the copilot seat, his eyes locked on the GPS coordinates Marcus was furiously typing into his tactical pad. "Long Island City. Warehouse District Sector 4. And fly fast—we have a daughter to save."

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