Chapter 7 - The Abduction
The snowstorm intensified by 7:00 PM, blinding white flakes howling through the city streets, reducing visibility to almost zero.
Della and Sienna were inside a black Range Rover, returning from an art charity drive in downtown Chicago. Driving the vehicle was Leo, one of Damon’s most trusted bodyguards, while two security sedans followed closely behind.
"Damon called," Sienna said, looking up from her tablet with a warm smile. "He’s finishing his meeting early. He said he’s having the chef prepare hot chocolate and apple pie for us when we get home."
Della laughed softly, adjusting her scarf. "He really spoils us, doesn't he?"
"He loves you, Della," Sienna said sincerely, taking Della’s hand. "I’ve never seen my brother so happy, so peaceful. You changed him."
Suddenly, a loud, deafening crash echoed through the street.
A massive snowplow truck slammed violently into the side of the lead security sedan, flipping it over into a snowbank. Before Leo could slam on the brakes, a heavy black delivery van T-boned the Range Rover, sending it spinning wildly across the icy pavement until it crashed heavily into a concrete bridge support.
Steam hissed from the crumpled hood.
Leo gritted his teeth, drawing his firearm. "Miss Hayes! Miss Westcott! Stay down!"
Leo threw open his door to engage the attackers, but three heavily armed men in thermal masks sprayed the driver’s side with automatic gunfire. Leo collapsed into the snow, wounded but still firing back.
Before Della or Sienna could react, the rear doors of the Range Rover were ripped open.
Heavy hands grabbed Della’s arms, dragging her out into the freezing storm. Sienna screamed, fighting back fiercely, biting the wrist of an attacker, but another man struck her across the temple with the butt of a handgun, knocking her unconscious.
"Get them into the van! Fast!" a voice barked through the roaring wind.
Della fought with everything she had, kicking and clawing at her captors. "Let her go! Take me, but let her go!"
A heavy cloth saturated with a sweet, chemical odor was slammed over her mouth and nose. Della struggled, her vision swimming, her strength fading rapidly, until the world spun into pitch-black darkness.
Ten minutes later.
Damon’s phone rang inside his private penthouse office.
He answered instantly, a dark premonition seizing his chest. "Leo?"
"Boss..." Leo’s voice came through, gasping for air, coughs echoing over the speaker. "Am... ambush... near the 18th Street bridge. They took... they took Miss Della and Sienna..."
Damon stood up so violently his heavy leather armchair flipped backward, crashing onto the floor.
The air in the room shattered into pure, terrifying fury.
"Who took them, Leo?!" Damon roared, his veins bulging against his throat.
"Rostov’s men... and Bryce Vandermeer..." Leo wheezed. "They're heading toward... the Port of Chicago..."
Damon hung up the phone. He didn't call the police. He didn't call federal agents.
He opened the private security vault behind his desk, pulling out two heavy tactical combat handguns and a tactical vest.
Victor stepped into the room, thirty armed men in full black tactical gear assembling behind him in the hallway.
"Boss," Victor said, his eyes blazing with cold fire. "The heavy transport trucks are ready. We have their tracking signal from Miss Sienna’s swan brooch—it has a built-in GPS transmitter."
May you like
Damon racked the slide of his pistol, his eyes burning with a murderous, apocalyptic light that could scorch the earth.
"Leave no one alive," Damon commanded softly. "We are burning the Port to the ground."
