Chapter 8 - The Betrayal
Vincent’s blood ran ice-cold.
Without a second thought, he grabbed Emma’s hand, cutting through the crowded ballroom toward the private exit. "Marcus, get the cars around front now!"
"Boss, the city traffic—"
"Clear the roads!" Vincent roared, pulling his heavy automatic pistol from his inner jacket pocket as they reached the private service hallway of the hotel.
Emma’s face was deathly pale, her hands trembling violently as she held onto Vincent’s arm. "Lily... Vincent, where is Lily?!"
"She's going to be fine," Vincent promised, his eyes burning with a terrifying, unholy light as they burst out of the hotel’s rear doors into the freezing alleyway. "I swear to you, Emma, nobody touches her."
Two black armored SUVs were already idling in the alley. Vincent shoved Emma gently into the rear seat of the lead vehicle, slamming himself in beside her as Marcus jammed his foot onto the accelerator.
The SUV tore through Chicago’s streets, siren blaring, running red lights, cutting through the freezing rain at ninety miles per hour.
Emma clutched her diamond pendant, tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving with desperate prayers. "Please God, please keep her safe... please..."
Vincent pulled her against his side, his arm wrapping around her shoulders like an iron shield. He held his phone to his ear, his voice deadly as he spoke to his main security team.
"Deploy teams one through four," Vincent commanded. "Lock down all roads within ten miles of the estate. If any vehicle tries to leave the perimeter, shoot the tires out. I want everyone alive until I get there."
Twenty minutes later, the SUV crashed through the shattered iron gates of the Carver estate.
The main grounds were in utter chaos. Two security sedans were flipped on their sides in the driveway. The floodlights along the perimeter wall were dead, casting the massive property into deep, oppressive darkness.
The SUV screeched to a halt in front of the east cottage.
The front door of the cottage was kicked off its hinges.
Vincent leaped out of the vehicle before it had even fully stopped, his weapon raised, rushing into the cottage with Marcus and four heavily armed soldiers close behind.
"Vincent!" Emma screamed, rushing out of the car after him despite Marcus’s shouts to stay back.
Inside the cottage living room, two of Vincent’s guards lay unconscious on the floor. Dr. Evans was sitting against the sofa, clutching a bloody shoulder, his face pale.
"Mr. Carver..." Dr. Evans gasped, pointing toward the back kitchen door. "They... they took her. Three men in masks. They knocked us out..."
Emma burst into the room, seeing the empty sofa where Lily had been resting. Her heart shattered. She let out a horrific, gut-wrenching scream of pure maternal agony, dropping to her knees on the rug.
"LILY! LILY!"
Vincent knelt beside Dr. Evans, checking his pulse. "Who was it?"
"They... they had a radio," Dr. Evans choked out. "I heard a name on the comms. Victor... Victor Moretti."
Vincent stood up slowly.
The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The terrifying, lethal rage radiating from Vincent Carver was so intense that even his own armed soldiers backed away two paces.
He walked over to Emma, dropping to one knee, wrapping his powerful arms around her shaking frame. He lifted her face, forcing her tears-soaked eyes to meet his.
"Listen to me, Emma," Vincent said, his voice flat, steady, and terrifyingly calm. "I am going to bring your daughter back. I am going to bring her back without a single scratch on her."
"Vincent... please..." she sobbed, clutching his suit lapels.
"Look at me," Vincent commanded softly.
May you like
Emma looked into his dark grey eyes, seeing no panic—only the absolute, terrifying resolve of a man who ruled an empire.
"I built this city's underground, Emma," Vincent stated quietly. "And tonight, I am going to burn Victor Moretti's world to the ground to bring our daughter home."
