Chapter Twenty-Seven
Allegra
“Cooper!” My scream echoed through the warehouse as I watched him fall to the ground, blood blossoming on his chest. Everything seemed to move in slow motion—my father’s cruel smile, the gun still smoking in his hand, Cooper’s body hitting the concrete floor with a sickening thud.
I lunged forward, but strong arms held me back. “Let me go!” I shouted, struggling against my captor. “Cooper! Cooper, please!”
My father’s voice cut through my panic. “Take her away. Put her under lock and key at her apartment. Make sure she doesn’t do anything...foolish.”
As I was dragged out of the warehouse, my eyes remained fixed on Cooper’s motionless form. Was he still breathing? How badly was he hurt? The questions swirled in my mind, mixing with a potent cocktail of fear, guilt, and rage.
The cool night air hit me as we exited the building, but I barely felt it. My entire being was focused on one thought: I had to save Cooper. Somehow, some way, I had to get back to him.
“Get in the car, Miss Rousseau,” one of my father’s men growled, shoving me towards a waiting SUV.
“It’s Prescott,” I snarled, trying to kick one of the men in the shins. I missed, and they laughed at my pathetic attempt.
As they pushed me into the backseat, an idea began to form. It was risky, possibly suicidal, but it was the only chance I had. I needed help, and there was only one person I could think of who might be able to pull off the impossible.
Steele.
I’d met him at the hospital gala, and though our interaction had been brief, I remembered the intensity in his eyes, the way he carried himself with an air of absolute control. If anyone could outmaneuver my father and rescue Cooper, it would be him.
As the car pulled away from the warehouse, I forced myself to take a deep breath. Think, Allegra. How can you get to Steele?
Then it hit me. His office. I remembered Cooper pointing out the impressive high-rise in the heart of the city that Steele now ran his legitimate businesses out of. If I could get there, maybe I could convince him to help.
But first, I had to get away from my father’s men.
I studied my surroundings, trying to formulate a plan. We were heading towards the city center, the streets becoming busier as we approached more populated areas. If I was going to make a move, it had to be soon.
As we stopped at a red light, I made my decision. In one fluid motion, I unclipped my seatbelt, threw open the car door, and bolted.
“Hey!” I heard shouts behind me, but I didn’t look back. I ran as fast as I could, darting between startled pedestrians and weaving through alleyways. My lungs burned and my legs ached, but I pushed on, driven by the image of Cooper lying in a pool of his own blood.
After ten minutes, I finally slowed, gasping for air. I’d lost my pursuers, at least for now. But I couldn’t stop. I had to get to Steele.
I looked around, trying to orient myself in the city. My legs trembled with exhaustion as I forced myself to keep moving, staying in the shadows when possible. Every car that passed made me flinch, expecting my father’s men to appear at any moment. But I kept the glittering spire of Steele’s building in my sights, using it as my beacon through the darkened streets of Paris.
When I finally reached the imposing structure, I was disheveled and breathless, my lungs burning. The lobby was vast and elegant, with marble floors and a massive reception desk. Despite the late hour, there was still a receptionist on duty.
I approached her, trying to look more put-together than I felt. “Good evening. I need to see Mr. Steele immediately. It’s an emergency.”
The receptionist looked me up and down, taking in my disheveled appearance with barely concealed disdain. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Steele isn’t available for walk-ins. Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but—”
“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you. Mr. Steele is a very busy man and—”
“Please,” I interrupted, desperation creeping into my voice. “It’s about Cooper Moreau. He’s in danger. I need to speak with Mr. Steele now.”
At the mention of Cooper’s name, the receptionist’s demeanor changed. She glanced around furtively before leaning in. “Wait here,” she said in a low voice, then picked up her phone.
I stood there, my heart pounding, as she spoke quietly into the receiver. After what felt like an eternity, she hung up and looked at me. “Take the elevator to the top floor. Mr. Steele will see you.”
Relief flooded through me. “Thank you,” I breathed, hurrying towards the elevators, riding to the top floor. When the elevator doors opened, I found myself in a sleek, modern office space. A tall, imposing man I recognized as Steele stood waiting, his face a mask of concern.
“Miss Prescott,” he said, his voice deep and authoritative. “What’s happened to Cooper?”
The words tumbled out of me in a rush. “He’s been shot. My father...Laurent Rousseau...he has him. I don’t know if he’s alive or...we have to save him, Steele. Please.”
Steele’s expression darkened at the mention of my father’s name. He ushered me into his office, closing the door behind us. “Start from the beginning,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Tell me everything.”
So I did. I told him about my father’s scheme, the set-up, about the gunshot that might have ended it all. As I spoke, Steele’s face remained impassive, but I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.
When I finished, he was silent for a long moment. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Prescott, but I can’t help you.”
I felt like I’d been slapped. “What? But Cooper...he’s your friend, isn’t he? Your partner? ”
“Was,” Steele corrected. “I left that life behind. I have a family now, responsibilities. I can’t go charging back into that world, not even for Cooper.”
Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. “So, you’re just going to let him die? After everything you’ve been through together?”
Steele’s jaw tightened. “You don’t understand the risks. Laurent Rousseau is not a man to be trifled with. Even if we could get to Cooper, if he’s still alive, the repercussions would be—”
“I don’t care about the repercussions!” I shouted, my composure finally breaking. “Cooper is dying! He needs our help!”
“Allegra’s right,” a soft voice said. We both turned to see Ashlynn standing in the doorway.
Steele’s expression softened as he looked at her. “Ashlynn, what are you doing here? You need to rest.”
“I was going to surprise you and take you out to dinner.” She ignored his look, moving into the room to stand beside me. “But plans have changed. Cooper is family,” she said firmly. “We don’t abandon family.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Steele argued, but I could see his resolve wavering.
Ashlynn took his hand, her eyes never leaving his face. “Remember when my father had Cooper? When he risked everything to keep me safe? We owe him. And more than that, it’s the right thing to do. Besides…she loves him, Daniel.” At this, Ashlynn gave Steele a meaningful look, and I could see the raw emotion pass between the two of them before she continued: “And Cooper loves her too.”
For a long moment, nobody spoke. Then Steele sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re right,” he said softly. “Both of you. I won’t abandon Cooper.”
Relief washed over me, a wave so intense I felt my knees go weak. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Steele’s expression hardened, the vulnerability of a moment ago replaced by grim determination. “Don’t thank me yet. This isn’t going to be easy. Laurent Rousseau is one of the most dangerous men in Europe. We’re going to need a plan.”
He moved to his desk, pressing a button on his phone. “Mario, I need you to come to my office in the city. Now. And bring the team. We have a situation.”
“You need to call his brother, too,” Ashlynn said, and I kicked myself for not thinking about Colton. “Cooper won’t want him involved for the sake of his father, but he needs to know. He could have additional information for us as well.”
Within twenty minutes, the office was filled with a group of men and women, all exuding an air of competence and danger. Steele introduced them rapidly—Mario, Cooper’s right-hand man; Zara, a tech expert; Murphy, a former Special Forces operative; and several others whose names blurred together in my overwhelmed state.
“Alright, people,” Steele said, his voice commanding everyone’s attention. “We have a rescue mission. Cooper Moreau was taken by Laurent Rousseau. He’s injured, possibly critically. Our job is to get him out.”
He turned to me. “Miss Prescott, I need you to tell us everything you can about where they’re holding Cooper. Every detail, no matter how small, could be crucial. ”
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to relive the terrifying events of the night. “It was a warehouse,” I began. “Old, abandoned. There was a lot of empty space inside, with catwalks along the walls. And there was machinery and crates along the edges. The chair they had me tied to was in the center, under a bright light...I think the warehouse was near the old wharf.”
As I spoke, Zara’s fingers flew over her tablet, pulling up satellite images and blueprints. Marcus asked pointed questions about guard positions and weaponry, while Mario made notes on potential entry points.
“I think I’ve found it,” Zara said after a while. “Based on Miss Prescott’s description and the route she took to escape, it has to be this warehouse in the industrial district.” She pulled up an image on the large screen on the wall.
Steele studied the image, his brow crinkled in concentration. “Good work. Now, let’s talk strategy. Rousseau will be expecting a rescue attempt. We need to be smarter, faster, and more unpredictable than he anticipates.”
For the next thirty minutes, we hashed out a plan. It was complex, multi-layered, with contingencies for every possible scenario. Steele thought of angles I never would have considered, his mind working like a master chess player, always several moves ahead.
“The key,” he explained, “is misdirection. We need Rousseau to think we’re coming from one direction while we actually attack from another. And we need to do it in a way that doesn’t put Cooper in more danger.”
He turned to Zara. “I need you to hack into the city’s power grid. At exactly 9:00 p.m., I want a rolling blackout to hit the industrial district. Make it look like a system malfunction, nothing that would raise suspicion.”
Zara nodded, her fingers already dancing across her keyboard. “Consider it done.”
“Murphy,” Steele continued, “your task is to create a diversion on the east side of the warehouse. Make it loud, make it flashy. I want Rousseau’s men focused entirely on you.”
Murphy grinned, an excited glint in his eye. “With pleasure.”
“Mario, you’re with me. We’ll use the chaos of the blackout and the diversion to infiltrate from the west. Our priority is locating and extracting Cooper.”
“What about me?” I asked, stepping forward. “I want to help.”
Steele shook his head. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. You’ll stay here with Ashlynn.”
I felt a surge of frustration. “But I know the layout of the warehouse. I can help you find Cooper faster.”
“She has a point, darling,” Ashlynn interjected, placing a hand on Steele’s arm.
Steele looked between us, his jaw clenching. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But you stay close to me at all times, understand? No heroics.”
I nodded eagerly, relief flooding through me. “I understand.”
“Alright, people,” Steele addressed the room. “We move out in ten minutes. Gear up and be ready.”
I watched in awe as Steele’s team transformed from sharply dressed professionals into a sleek, efficient tactical unit. They moved with practiced precision, checking weapons and comms with a synchronicity that spoke of years of working together. If I hadn’t been so terrified, I would have been impressed.
Steele approached me, holding out a bulletproof vest. “Put this on,” he said, his tone sharp. As I strapped it on, he continued, “Remember, when we’re in there, you follow my lead. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. Got it?”
“Got it,” I replied, trying to squish the nervous flutter in my stomach.
At precisely 8:30, we moved out. The night was cool and clear as we piled into a nondescript van. The drive to the warehouse district was tense, the silence broken only by last-minute checks of equipment and comms.
As we neared our destination, Steele’s voice came through the earpiece I’d been given. “Zara, status on the blackout?”
“Ready to initiate on your mark,” came the reply.
“Murphy, everyone in position?”
“Affirmative. Ready to light this candle.”
“Alright, people. Remember, our priority is Cooper. We get in, we get him out. No unnecessary risks. Zara, initiate blackout in 3...2...1...Now.”
Through the van’s tinted windows, I watched as a wave of darkness swept across the industrial district. Streetlights flickered and died, buildings faded into blackness. In the distance, I could just make out our target—the warehouse where Cooper was being held.
“Blackout successful,” Zara’s voice crackled in my ear. “You have approximately five minutes before emergency systems kick in.”
“Murphy, you’re up,” Steele commanded .
Barely a minute later, the night erupted in chaos. Explosions rocked the eastern side of the warehouse, accompanied by the staccato of gunfire. Even from our position, I could see Rousseau’s men scrambling to respond to the perceived threat.
“That’s our cue,” Steele said, sliding open the van door. “Move out.”
We slipped into the night, using the darkness and confusion to our advantage. Steele led the way, moving with a fluid grace. I followed close behind, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure it would give us away.
As we approached the warehouse from the west, I could see two guards by a side entrance, looking agitated and distracted by the commotion on the other side of the building.
Steele held up a hand, signaling us to stop. Then, faster than I could follow, he was moving. In a matter of seconds, both guards were down, unconscious before they even realized we were there.
“Impressive,” I whispered as we reached the door.
Steele just grunted in response, his focus entirely on the task at hand. He made quick work of the lock, and then we were inside.
The interior of the warehouse was chaos. Emergency lights cast an eerie red glow over everything, and I could hear shouting and gunfire from the far side of the building. Steele led us through the shadows, avoiding the main areas where my father’s men were congregating.
“Where was Cooper when you last saw him?” Steele whispered.
I pointed towards the center of the warehouse. “ There was a chair, under a spotlight. That’s where...” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Steele nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Mario, cover us. Miss Prescott, stay close.”
We moved deeper into the warehouse, winding around abandoned machinery and huge crates, every step filled with tension. As we neared the center, I saw it—the chair where I’d been tied, now empty. But beside it…
“Cooper!” I gasped, spotting his prone form on the concrete floor.
Steele’s hand on my arm stopped me from rushing forward. “Wait,” he hissed. “It could be a trap.”
He scanned the area, his face tightening with vigilance. After a moment, he nodded to Mario, who moved forward cautiously. I held my breath as he checked Cooper.
“He’s alive,” Mario reported, his voice low. “But barely. We need to move him, now.”
Relief flooded through me, so intense I felt my knees go weak. Cooper was alive. We weren’t too late.
Steele was already moving, helping Mario lift Cooper’s unconscious form. “Miss Prescott, take the lead. Remember the way we came in?”
I nodded, forcing myself to focus. We had Cooper, but we weren’t safe yet.
We retraced our steps, moving as quickly and quietly as we could with Cooper’s dead weight between Steele and Mario. My eyes darted everywhere, searching for threats in the red-tinged shadows.
We were almost at the exit when a voice rang out, stopping us in our tracks.
“Leaving so soon?” My father’s smooth tone sent a chill down my spine. “And here I thought we were just getting reacquainted, Allegra.”
I turned slowly to see him standing on a catwalk above us, a gun trained on our group. A dozen of his men materialized from the shadows, surrounding us.
“It’s over, Rousseau,” Steele called out, his voice steady despite the dire situation. “Let us leave, and we can all walk away from this.”
My father laughed, the sound echoing through the warehouse. “Oh, Steele. Always the optimist. But I’m afraid I can’t let you take my leverage. You see, Mr. Moreau and I have unfinished business.”
“He’ll die if he doesn’t get medical attention,” I pleaded, taking a step forward. “Please, Father. You’ve made your point. Let him go.”
For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—regret? compassion?—in my father’s eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by cold determination.
“I’m sorry, petite chère . But business is business.”
What happened next was a blur of motion and sound. Steele moved with impossible speed, shoving Cooper into my arms and pushing us towards the exit. Mario laid down covering fire as we stumbled towards safety.
I heard the sharp crack of a gunshot, felt something whiz past my ear. Then we were outside, the cool night air a shock after the stifling atmosphere of the warehouse.
“Go!” Steele shouted, helping me maneuver Cooper into the waiting van. “Murphy, we need extraction now!”
As we peeled away from the warehouse, I cradled Cooper’s head in my lap, my fingers pressed to his neck to feel the weak but steady pulse. We’d done it. Against all odds, we’d rescued Cooper.
But as I looked down at his pale face, I knew that our ordeal was far from over. Cooper’s breathing was shallow and labored, his skin clammy to the touch. The makeshift bandage Steele had applied during our escape was already soaked through with blood, even though I was applying as much pressure as I could.
“He needs a hospital,” I said, my voice tight with worry.
Steele shook his head, his eyes never leaving the road as he drove. “Too risky. Your father will have people watching every hospital in the city. We need to get him somewhere safe, somewhere off the grid. We have a doctor on standby. We just need somewhere to go.”
“I know a place,” Mario spoke up from the back of the van, where he was monitoring Cooper’s vitals. “A safehouse Cooper set up a few months ago. It’s fully equipped with medical supplies. Should be able to stabilize him there.”
Steele nodded grimly. “Good thinking. Give me the address. I’ll have everyone meet there.”
As we sped through the darkened streets of Paris, I tried to focus on the steady, if weak, beat of Cooper’s pulse beneath my fingers. Each labored breath he took felt like a small victory, a sign that he was still fighting.
“Stay with me, Cooper,” I whispered, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “Please, just stay with me.”
After what felt like hours, we pulled up to a nondescript apartment building in a quiet residential area. Mario jumped out first, quickly scanning the area before signaling us to follow.
“Third floor,” he said as we carefully maneuvered Cooper out of the van. “There’s a service elevator we can use.”
The next few minutes were a blur of activity. We got Cooper into the apartment and onto a bed that looked like it had been hastily prepared for medical emergencies. The team’s doctor, a man wearing a sweatsuit and sporting bushy eyebrows, immediately set to work, hooking Cooper up to monitors and starting an IV while Mario helped position equipment.
“How bad is it?” I asked, hovering anxiously at the edge of the room.
The doctor’s expression was grim as he examined the wound. “The bullet’s still in there. We need to get it out and stop the bleeding. Luckily it’s a slow bleed. I can do it, but...” he trailed off, looking uncertainly at Steele.
“But what?” I pressed.
Steele placed a hand on my shoulder, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s going to be rough, Allegra. And we don’t have any anesthesia. Cooper’s going to be in a lot of pain when he wakes up.”
I swallowed hard, forcing down the fear and nausea rising in my throat. “I understand. What can I do to help?”
“Hold him steady,” the doctor instructed. “Talk to him. Even unconscious, he might be able to hear you. It could help keep him stable.”
For the next hour, I held Cooper’s shoulders while the doctor worked to remove the bullet and repair the damage it had caused. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, mixing with the sharp bite of antiseptic. Every time the instruments clinked against the metal tray, I flinched. The overhead light cast harsh shadows across Cooper’s face, highlighting the gray pallor of his skin and the sheen of sweat on his brow. Under my hands, his skin felt clammy and too cool, like glass left in shade.
The steady beep of the heart monitor became my lifeline, each sound a reminder that Cooper was still fighting. Occasionally, even unconscious, he would twitch or moan, his body instinctively trying to pull away from the pain. During those moments, I would lean close to his ear, whispering whatever came to mind—memories of our time together, promises for the future, desperate pleas for him to stay strong.
“Remember the first time you came to physical therapy?” I murmured, my thumb stroking his temple as the doctor worked. “You were so stubborn, insisting you didn’t need help. Refusing your cane. None of the other therapists wanted to work with you. But you still came back.” My voice cracked. “I need you to be that stubborn now, Cooper. I need you to fight.”
It was grueling, nerve-wracking work. More than once, Cooper’s vitals dipped dangerously low, the monitor’s steady beep turning into a frantic, high-pitched warning that made my stomach lurch. Each time, the doctor would bark orders while his hands never stopped moving, steady even as mine shook.
But finally, mercifully, he stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow. The last bloody bullet fragment made a dull thud as he dropped it into a metal dish. “It’s done. Everything’s out, and I’ve managed to stop the bleeding. Now we just have to hope he’s strong enough to pull through.”
I sank into a chair by Cooper’s bedside, exhaustion suddenly hitting me like a physical weight. “He is,” I said, taking Cooper’s hand in mine. “He has to be.”
Steele, who had been coordinating with his team throughout the procedure, approached us. “We need to talk about next steps,” he said, his tone serious. “Your father isn’t going to let this go, Allegra. He’s going to come after Cooper again, and probably you too.”
The reality of our situation crashed back over me. In the intensity of the rescue and Cooper’s treatment, I’d almost forgotten about the impending threat of my father.
“What do we do?” I asked, looking up at Steele.
He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded me so much of Cooper it made my heart ache. “For now, we lay low. This safehouse should keep us off the radar for a while. But long term...we need a plan to deal with your father permanently.”
I nodded, a mix of fear and determination coursing through me. “Whatever it takes. I won’t let him hurt Cooper again.”
Steele studied me for a moment, a hint of approval in his eyes. “You’re tougher than you look, Miss Prescott. Cooper chose well.”