Chapter 5 - The Shadow in the Study
The heavy oak door of the private study was standing ajar.
The warm glow of the desk lamp had been extinguished, leaving the room illuminated only by the pale moonlight filtering through the frost-covered bay windows and the dying embers of the fireplace.
Dominic stepped across the threshold, his weapon raised, his eyes scanning every dark corner of the mahogany-lined room.
“Elena?” he called out softly, keeping his voice low and controlled.
No answer.
Only the heavy silence of the room, punctuated by the soft drip of water from an unlatched window pane swinging open in the cold night breeze.
He swept past the desk, checking behind the high-backed leather chairs, the heavy velvet curtains, and the hidden entrance to the panic room.
The panic room door was wide open.
Empty.
On the polished floor near the center of the rug lay the silver pen Dominic had left on the desk—and beside it, a small drop of fresh blood.
Dominic knelt, touching the dark crimson droplet with his gloved fingertip. Still warm.
The intruder hadn't just taken her. They had taken her within the last ninety seconds, slipping through the upper balcony doors while Dominic was pinned down in the stairwell.
Marco skidded to a halt in the doorway behind him, his assault rifle raised, his chest heaving. “Boss—the perimeter cameras on the north balcony just went dark. They had a grappling line anchored to the stone parapet.”
“Find out who was manning the north sector tonight,” Dominic said, his voice so quiet it was barely audible above the wind outside.
“Already checked,” Marco said grimly. “Miller. Third-shift rotation.”
Miller. One of Dominic’s most trusted logistics coordinators, on the payroll for six years.
“He’s not working alone,” Dominic stood up slowly, the dark fury in his eyes burning hotter and deadlier than any fire. “Miller didn't have the technical expertise to plant an EMP pulse in the lab or bypass the eastern gate sensors eleven days ago. There’s someone higher up pulling the strings.”
Marco stepped closer, his face tight with concern. “What do we do now? If they take Elena to Caldwell’s primary compound across the river, we won't be able to breach it without a full-scale military assault. The place is fortified like a bunker.”
Dominic walked over to the desk, picking up the small piece of plastic wrap where the microSD card had rested moments before.
He looked down at it, then toward the dark window pane reflecting his own hardened face.
“We don't need a military assault, Marco,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a cold, lethal calm. “We just need an invitation.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “An invitation?”
“Caldwell wants the rest of the shipping routes, and he wants the Helian portfolio that Elena holds in her head,” Dominic said, sliding his sidearm back into its shoulder holster with a sharp click. “He thinks he’s won because he got her back. But he made one critical mistake.”
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“What’s that?”
“He left me alive,” Dominic said, turning toward the door. “Saddle up the strike team. We’re going to Vincent Caldwell’s front door.”
