Chapter 5 - THE VANISHING
The drive back to the estate felt like a descent into hell.
My armored SUV tore through the fog at ninety miles an hour, its sirens wailing against the quiet suburban streets of Long Island. Beside me, Cassian was desperately attempting to contact the estate guard detail over an encrypted line.
“Report, damn it!” Cassian barked into his mic. “Give me a status on the perimeter!”
“Fire is under control in the garage, sir,” the lead tactical officer’s voice came through the speaker, laced with static and coughing. “It was a thermite charge dropped into the electrical main. It took down the primary power grid and the secondary camera feeds for four minutes.”
“Where was Clara when the charge went off?” I demanded, leaning over the console.
“She was in the second-floor linen room, sir,” the officer answered nervously. “When the alarms sounded, she ran toward the master suite to check on the children. A strike team of three men blew through the terrace doors on the east balcony. They used flashbangs and tear gas. They ignored the tactical detail at the main stairwell—they went straight for the girl.”
They ignored the children.
I slammed my fist against the dashboard, cracking the plastic trim.
Hector Mendoza’s raid at Pier 42 hadn't been an attempt to escape or transport weapons. It had been a distraction—a high-stakes sacrificial play to draw me, Cassian, and my primary assault force away from the house so his secondary strike team could snatch Clara Vance.
“Why her?” Cassian whispered, turning his pale face toward me as the SUV lurched through the open gates of the estate. “If Hector wanted to destroy you, why kidnap the maid instead of the girls?”
“Because she’s the key,” I realized, the horror washing over me like ice water. “Hector knows I’m a monster, Cassian. He knows that if he took my daughters, I would burn New York to the ground until I found them. But Clara... Clara is the only person who brought their voices back. She’s the only person who made Lucia laugh.”
I stepped out of the vehicle before it had even come to a complete stop in the driveway.
The courtyard was a chaotic scene of flashing red emergency lights, fire trucks, and armed guards patrolling the smoke-filled air. I ignored them all, taking the stairs three at a time up to the second floor.
I burst into the master suite.
Lucia, Valentina, and Mia were huddled together in the center of the massive king-sized bed, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket. Rosa was sitting beside them, weeping softly into a handkerchief. Two tactical guards stood at the corners of the room, their weapons drawn.
When the door slammed open, all three girls jumped.
Valentina and Mia burst into loud, terrified tears. But Lucia stood up on the bed.
She looked at me, her eyes red-rimmed, her face white as snow. She reached into her coat pocket and held out her small hand.
In her palm sat the wooden swallow Clara had given her that morning.
“Daddy,” Lucia cried out—not a whisper this time, but a real, heartbroken scream that echoed through the high ceilings. “The bad men took Clara! The bad men pushed her!”
I rushed across the room, dropping my weapons onto the floor, and pulled all three of my daughters into my arms. I held them tight against my chest, feeling their tears soak through my coat, smelling the smoke that hung faintly in their hair.
“I know, baby,” I whispered, kissing Lucia’s forehead, kissing Valentina and Mia. “I know. Daddy’s here.”
“Save her, Daddy!” Lucia sobbed, her tiny hands beating against my chest in desperation. “Save Clara! She’s brave like the bird! Please don't let them hurt her!”
I closed my eyes, burying my face in my daughters’ hair.
For fourteen months, I had prayed to hear Lucia speak. Now her voice was breaking my heart into a thousand pieces.
“I will save her, Lucia,” I promised, my voice raspy with an oath forged in blood. “I promise you on my life. I will bring Clara home.”
I handed the girls over to Rosa, stood up, and turned to Cassian, who was standing in the doorway.
“Is Hector in the basement?” I asked, my voice dropping into a deadly, terrifying calm.
May you like
“Yes,” Cassian said. “Strapped to the chair.”
“Bring the medical kit,” I said, walking past him into the hallway. “The heavy one.”
