Chapter 21 - The Hollow Echo
The scream that tore from my throat was not human; it was the raw, primal shriek of a mother whose world had been cleaved in two. I fell to my knees beside Lucas’s small, empty bed, clutching the torn invitation card to my chest until the jagged edges bit into my skin, drawing blood.
*AN EYE FOR AN EYE.*
"Lucas! Lucas!" I choked out, sweeping my hands over the cold mattress as if my touch could conjure him back from the void. The lingering scent of lavender from his freshly washed pajamas still hung in the air, a cruel, mocking reminder of the peace that had lived here just minutes ago.
Heavy boots crunched on the shattered glass behind me. Sylvester stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the flickering emergency lights that had finally kicked in, casting long, bloody crimson shadows across the hallway. His face was no longer that of the cultured, composed magnate who commanded boardrooms with a single glance. The mask had cracked, revealing the cold, unyielding warlord underneath. His eyes burned with an icy, terrifying fury that seemed capable of reducing cities to ash.
"Walter!" Sylvester’s voice cut through the air like a whip crack.
Walter stumbled into the room, clutching a bleeding shoulder, his pale face streaked with soot and sweat. "Sir... the tunnels beneath the wine cellar. They breached through the old drainage conduit. It was blown open with low-yield military plastic explosives. They took out the sensors before the alarms could trigger."
"How long ago?" Sylvester demanded, kneeling down beside me. His large, calloused hand rested on my trembling shoulder, anchoring me to the earth before I could shatter completely.
"No more than four minutes, Mr. Vance," Walter wheezed, breathing hard. "They moved fast. Professionals. Ex-black-ops mercenaries by the precision of the shots."
"They have my son, Sylvester," I whispered, my voice breaking as I looked up into his fathomless dark eyes. "Sterling has my baby. Victoria... they’re going to hurt him because of me. Because of what we did."
May you like
"Look at me, Elena," Sylvester commanded softly, gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. His touch was warm, an immovable rock in the center of a raging tempest. "Listen to me very carefully. Lucas is my son in every way that matters, and nobody—nobody on this earth—takes what is mine and lives to see another sunrise. We are getting him back."
He stood, pulling a satellite phone from his tactical vest, his voice dropping into a register of sheer, calculated venom as the line connected. "Marcus. Seal the entire perimeter of the district. Ground every private airfield within two hundred miles. Cut off the ports. Put a fifty-million-dollar bounty on Sterling Caldwell’s head—dead or alive. And prepare my personal convoy. We hunt tonight."
