Chapter 5 - THE EMPTY BED
The nursery door hung by a single splintered hinge.
Smoke drifted lazily across the pastel-painted walls.
Elodie’s dolls were scattered across the floor.
Teddy bears.
Storybooks.
Broken porcelain tea sets.
And right in the center of the pink rug.
A teddy bear soaked in dark, glistening blood.
Nathaniel dropped to his knees.
His large, tattooed hand touched the damp fabric.
His heart hammered against his ribs like a caged beast.
"Elodie!" he roared.
His voice shook the entire western wing of the mansion.
Marcus rushed up behind him, weapon raised.
He scanned the empty room.
"No bodies," Marcus reported quickly, checking the walk-in closet and bathroom.
"No signs of a struggle here."
"Then whose blood is this?" Nathaniel demanded, his voice cracking with raw agony.
Marcus knelt beside the teddy bear.
He touched the crimson stain and rubbed it between his fingers.
He sniffed it.
"It's not human," Marcus said.
"Pig's blood."
Nathaniel exhaled sharply.
A psychological warfare tactic.
They wanted him broken.
Panicked.
Desperate.
A note was pinned to the wall with a silver dagger.
Nathaniel stood up slowly.
His boots crunched on broken glass.
He pulled the dagger free and snatched the note.
Unfolded it.
Read the bold black print:
"Want your daughter back? Bring the Rook Ledger and sole ownership of the docks to Pier 49 by midnight. Come alone. Or she becomes the main course."
Marcus read over Nathaniel’s shoulder.
"A trap," Marcus stated bluntly.
"Obviously," Nathaniel replied.
His jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently in his cheek.
"They think I'm just a mob boss who cares about money."
"They don't understand what I am when someone touches my blood."
Marcus checked his tactical watch.
"We have two hours until midnight."
"The docks are heavily fortified by the Moriarty syndicate."
"They’re expecting you."
Nathaniel slipped the dagger into his belt.
He picked up Elodie’s blood-stained teddy bear and tucked it safely inside his jacket.
"Let them expect me," Nathaniel said coldly.
"Prepare the chopper."
"And Marcus?"
"Yeah, boss?"
"Leave Vivian in the holding room."
"Let her rot."
As Nathaniel walked down the corridor toward the armory, a shadow detached itself from the pillars.
Alma stood there.
Waiting.
Her hands trembling in front of her starched apron.
"Mr. Rook," Alma whispered.
Nathaniel stopped.
"Speak."
"I know who helped them," Alma said, her voice steadying.
"I saw Vivian give a flash drive to the head chef before the banquet."
"The chef has a brother in the Moriarty syndicate."
Nathaniel turned his head slowly.
A lethal gleam in his eyes.
"His name?"
"Marco," Alma replied.
May you like
"And he’s already fled toward Pier 49."
Cliffhanger: Nathaniel loaded a submachine gun, looked at Alma, and said, "Come with me. You're going to watch how a Rook collects a debt."
