15. Dominic
Dominic
The text from Lucia came at one-seventeen in the afternoon, three words that transformed my world from solid to liquid in the space between heartbeats.
Elena is missing.
I was in the locker room at Commonwealth Arena, post-practice, my phone buzzing in my bag with an insistence that made Josh look up from unlacing his skates. I grabbed it, saw Lucia’s name, felt my stomach drop before I’d even read the message.
She went to a farmers market this morning. Cambridge. Said she’d be back by noon. She’s not answering her phone. Dominic, I think something’s wrong.
The phone was ringing before I’d consciously decided to call her, Lucia answering on the first ring, her voice tight with barely controlled panic.
“When did you last hear from her?”
“Nine-thirty. She texted that she was at the market, that she’d be home soon.
I’ve been calling for an hour. Her phone goes straight to voicemail.
I went to the market; her bag is still there, Dominic.
Her bag with her wallet and keys, just sitting on the ground near one of the stalls.
The vendor said she was looking at squash, then she was gone.
No one saw her leave. No one saw anything. ”
The world narrowed to a single point of focus, everything else, the locker room, my teammates, the normal concerns of a Saturday afternoon, becoming irrelevant background noise.
Marcus had her. The certainty was absolute, visceral, a knowledge that bypassed rational thought and went straight to instinct.
“Call Detective Mitchell,” I said, my voice coming out flat, controlled, the calm before the storm. “Tell her everything. I’m coming to you now.”
I hung up before Lucia could respond, already moving, already shedding my practice gear and pulling on street clothes with mechanical efficiency. Josh was beside me, his hand on my shoulder, his voice asking questions I couldn’t process.
“Elena’s missing. Marcus has her. I need to go.”
“Dominic, wait…”
“No.” The word came out sharp, final, cutting through whatever reasonable advice Josh was about to offer. “No waiting. No being rational. No trusting the police to handle this. He has her, and I’m going to find her, and when I do, I’m going to kill him.”
The promise wasn’t hyperbole. The rage that flooded through me was beyond anything I’d experienced on the ice, beyond the controlled aggression that made me effective as a player.
This was primal, feral, the kind of fury that existed before civilization had created rules about appropriate responses to threats.
Josh didn’t try to stop me. He grabbed his own bag, his keys, his expression grim with understanding.
“Then I’m coming with you. You’re not doing this alone.”
The drive to Lucia’s apartment took twenty minutes that felt like hours.
Detective Mitchell was already there when we arrived, her expression professional but concerned, her notebook out, her questions methodical and thorough.
She asked about Elena’s movements, her routine, any indication of where Marcus might take her.
Lucia answered with admirable composure, providing details while her hands shook with suppressed terror.
I couldn’t sit still. I paced Lucia’s living room like a caged animal, my mind racing through possibilities, through the documentation I’d seen of Marcus’s surveillance, through any detail that might indicate where he’d taken her.
He’d been planning this. The photographs, the escalation, the violation of the restraining order; all of it had been building toward this moment.
“We’re treating this as an abduction,” Detective Mitchell said, her voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts.
“We’ve issued a BOLO for Marcus Webb, we’re tracking his vehicle, we’re pulling surveillance footage from the market and surrounding areas.
We’re also executing a search warrant for his apartment right now.
If there’s any indication of where he might have taken her, we’ll find it. ”
“How long?” The question came out harsh, demanding. “How long until you find something?”
“I can’t give you a timeline. These investigations…”
“She doesn’t have time for an investigation.
” I was in front of Mitchell before I’d consciously moved, Josh’s hand on my arm the only thing preventing me from doing something that would get me arrested.
“He’s had her for hours. Every minute we waste talking is another minute she’s with him, terrified, alone. You need to find her now.”
“Mr. Russo, I understand your concern, but you need to let us do our job. The best thing you can do right now is stay here, stay available, and let us work.”
The suggestion that I should wait, should trust the process, should do nothing while Elena was with Marcus, was so absurd it would have been laughable if I’d been capable of laughter.
I turned away from Mitchell, pulled out my phone, started making calls to people who might have information, who might have seen something, who might know anything that could help.
Josh stayed close, his presence grounding, his voice low when he spoke.
“We’ll find her. We’re going to find her, and she’s going to be okay.”
The reassurance was well-intentioned and completely inadequate. I didn’t want reassurance. I wanted Marcus’s location. I wanted Elena safe. I wanted to tear apart anyone who stood between me and those objectives.
My phone rang at three-forty-seven, Detective Mitchell’s number, her voice tight with controlled urgency.
“We found something at his apartment. A property deed for a cabin in Ashland, about forty miles west. Foreclosed property, isolated, fits the profile. We’re mobilizing a tactical team now. ETA thirty minutes.”
“I’m coming.”
“Mr. Russo, you can’t…”
I hung up, already moving toward the door, Josh beside me, Lucia calling after us with questions I didn’t have time to answer. The address was in my phone, the GPS calculating the route, the distance that separated me from Elena shrinking with every mile.
The drive was a blur of speed and single-minded focus.
Josh drove while I sat in the passenger seat, my hands clenched into fists, my mind cycling through scenarios of what I’d find when we arrived.
The rational part of my brain, the part that still functioned despite the rage, knew that Marcus wouldn’t have hurt her, that his obsession was about possession rather than violence.
The irrational part, the part that had taken over completely, imagined every possible horror and prepared to respond with proportional fury.
The cabin appeared through the trees at four-thirty-two, a small structure set back from the road, surrounded by forest, exactly the kind of isolated location where someone could disappear.
Police vehicles were already there, tactical team members positioning themselves around the perimeter, Detective Mitchell coordinating the operation with professional efficiency.
I was out of the car before Josh had fully stopped, moving toward the cabin with single-minded purpose. Mitchell intercepted me, her hand on my chest, her voice firm.
“You stay here. You do not approach that cabin. You do not interfere with this operation. Am I clear?”
“Is she in there?”
“We believe so. We’ve confirmed Marcus’s vehicle is here. We’re about to make entry. You need to stay back and let us do our job.”
The tactical team moved with practiced precision, approaching the cabin from multiple angles, their voices calling out commands that echoed through the forest. I watched from behind the police line, every muscle in my body coiled with the need to move, to act, to get to Elena.
The door breached with a crack of splintering wood. Shouts from inside, movement, the controlled chaos of a tactical entry. Then silence, heavy and terrible, lasting seconds that felt like years.
Detective Mitchell’s radio crackled. “Suspect in custody. Female victim located, conscious, appears unharmed.”
The relief that flooded through me was so intense it was almost painful, my knees threatening to buckle, my breath coming in gasps that had nothing to do with physical exertion. She was alive. She was conscious. She was..
“Let me see her.” The words came out rough, desperate. “I need to see her.”
Mitchell hesitated, then nodded, leading me toward the cabin.
The tactical team was bringing Marcus out in handcuffs, his face calm despite the circumstances, his expression holding that same terrible serenity I’d seen in his surveillance photographs.
Our eyes met as they led him past, and something in my expression must have communicated my intentions, because his calm finally cracked, fear replacing delusion.
“She was never yours,” I said softly, the promise in my voice unmistakable. “She was never yours, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life knowing that.”
They led him away before he could respond, loading him into a police vehicle, removing him from Elena’s life with a finality that should have felt like victory. It felt like nothing. The only thing that mattered was inside that cabin.
Elena was sitting on the bed when I entered, a female officer beside her, working to untie the ropes around her wrists.
Her face was pale, her eyes wide with shock, her body trembling with the aftermath of trauma.
When she saw me, something in her expression broke, relief and terror and exhaustion collapsing into tears.
I was beside her in three strides, my hands on her face, my eyes searching hers for signs of injury, for any indication that Marcus had hurt her beyond the psychological trauma of abduction.
“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”
“No.” Her voice was hoarse, shaking. “No, he didn’t hurt me. He just… he talked. He showed me things. He thought he was saving me. Dominic, he thought he was saving me.”
The officer finished with the ropes, stepping back to give us space. I pulled Elena into my arms, holding her with a desperation that bordered on painful, my face buried in her hair, my body shaking with the force of emotions I couldn’t name.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, the words inadequate for what I felt. “I’ve got you, and I’m never letting you go. Never again. Do you understand? You’re mine, and nothing is ever going to take you from me again.”
She nodded against my chest, her hands fisting in my shirt, her tears soaking through the fabric.
We stayed like that while the police processed the scene, while Detective Mitchell asked preliminary questions, while the world continued around us.
Nothing else mattered. She was alive, she was safe, she was mine.
The rest could wait.