Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Paul: Guardian HRS
The fire crackles in the hearth, its warm glow a stark contrast to the turmoil in my chest. Outside, the first signs of spring are emerging in the Swiss Alps.
Patches of green peek through the thinning snow, a world awakening from its long slumber.
But my thoughts are far from this peaceful transition.
Two months. Two agonizing months since I last saw Vivianne, our stolen moment at her engagement party cut brutally short. The memory haunts me—her lips on mine, the spark of hope in her eyes, and then... gone. Whisked away by her father calling in the distance.
I slam my fist into my open palm, the sharp sting a welcome distraction from the regret gnawing at my gut. I should have taken her at that damn engagement party, consequences be damned. Now she's trapped, and I'm left pacing, helpless.
"You'll wear a hole in that rug if you keep that up." Merlin's gruff voice cuts through my brooding.
I turn to face him, frustration bubbling up. "We're running out of time."
"I know, son. But we can't rush in half-cocked. The Faulks estate is a fortress now." He sighs, setting down the book he's been pretending to read.
I pace the length of the room, my footsteps echoing off the wood-paneled walls. "You think I don't know that? I've flown back and forth from here to the States more times than I can count. And each time, it's worse."
My mind flashes to my last reconnaissance mission. The sprawling grounds of the Faulks estate, once merely guarded, now bristle with activity.
"There are men everywhere. Armed patrols circling around the clock. They've installed motion sensors and infrared cameras. I wouldn't be surprised if they have satellite surveillance at this point."
I run a hand through my hair. "I've broken into museums, for Christ's sake. Swapped out priceless paintings under the noses of the world's best security. But this?" I shake my head. "I can't even get within a hundred yards of the main house without tripping a dozen alarms."
My fist connects with the mantle, pain shooting through my knuckles. "We should never have let her go back there. I had her in my arms, Merlin. Right there. And I let her slip away."
"And what would you have done?" His eyebrow arches. "Kidnapped her in front of half of New York's elite?"
"She was in my arms. I held her. I kissed her."
His weathered hand grips my shoulder, both comforting and restraining. "Paul, my boy, you can't lose sight of the bigger picture."
A muscle twitches in my jaw. "Vivianne is the bigger picture."
"Is she?" His eyes narrow, his voice taking on that lecturing tone I've heard countless times. "What about the Swan? What about everything we've worked for?"
The pendant. Of course. That damned piece of jewelry that's caused so much grief. "To hell with the pendant."
His grip tightens. "If you had taken Vivianne at the engagement party, we'd have lost any chance of locating the Swan. Not to mention, any hope of recovering it would be gone."
"If I had taken her, she wouldn't be trapped like she is now." The words burst from me, raw and angry.
"There are things more important than one woman." His voice softens, but the steel in his eyes remains. "Lives depend on retrieving the Swan."
I open my mouth to argue, but Merlin cuts me off with a sharp gesture.
"It's not about family legacy. The Swan is more than a pendant with a flaw." He leans in close, voice dropping to a whisper. "There are engravings on it. Microscopic. Invisible to the naked eye."
My brow furrows. "Engravings? You never mentioned—"
"Because I wasn't sure you were ready to know." His gaze darts around the room as if checking for unseen listeners. "Those engravings... they're coordinates. Locations of... well, let's just say they're locations that certain very powerful people would kill to know about."
The weight of his words sinks in. "What kind of locations?"
"The less you know right now, the better." He shakes his head. "But trust me when I say that pendant in the wrong hands could destabilize governments and start wars."
I lean back, processing this new information. The Swan was always important—a family heirloom, a reminder of Merlin's lost love.
But this?
This is something else entirely.
"Does Faulks know?" My voice is barely audible.
"I've never been certain, but I always suspected. Too many things don't add up, and the Swan... it's the only thing that explains it all." Merlin's expression darkens.
"So you think Vivianne's father knows what the pendant is?"
"Yes." Heavy with implications. "The Faulks family has always been too well-connected, too strategically positioned.
If they know about the Swan's true significance, it explains their obsession with keeping it hidden from the world and guarding their secrets so fiercely.
It's more than a bauble. Always has been. "
My fists clench at my sides.
The room falls silent as the true weight of what we face settles over me. Suddenly, it's not just about reclaiming a family treasure or righting old wrongs. The stakes have risen exponentially, and Vivianne, unwittingly, is at the center of it all.
The silence stretches between us, thick with decades of shared history and conflicting priorities. Merlin is right, at least in part. But the thought of Vivianne, trapped and alone, overrides everything else.
"And the date of the wedding?" Merlin leans forward. "Has it been announced? Are you certain of the timing?"
"No official announcement yet." I shake my head.
"So how can you be sure?" His eyes sharpen.
I pull out my phone, bringing up the post I've read a thousand times. "Because of this."
I hand him the device, watching as his eyes scan the screen:
Feeling nostalgic today. Remembering that beautiful garden in Paris, with its hidden corners and secret pathways.
How I long to walk those grounds again, to feel that sense of freedom and possibility.
Perhaps in three months, when the roses are in full bloom?
#ParisianDreams #GardenEscapes #CountdownToAdventure
"This could mean anything." Merlin looks up, brow furrowed.
"No." I take the phone back. "The garden in Paris—that's where we truly connected. And three months... it has to be the new wedding date."
"It's thin." A warning in his voice.
"Not so thin. After announcing her engagement to Prescott, the air was thick with whispers about the wedding date. Everyone had a theory, but nothing concrete."
I run a hand through my hair. "Some were saying it's a shotgun wedding, that Vivianne's pregnant.
Others swore it would be a long engagement for appearances' sake.
But no one knew for sure. The Faulks are keeping it all very hush-hush.
But Vivianne made that post with intent. She's telling us when."
"You're putting a lot of faith in a social media post."
"It's all we have." I meet his gaze. "To anyone else, it looks innocent. But it's a cry for help. As clear as if she'd shouted it from the rooftops."
"Even if you're right, it could be later." Merlin sighs, rubbing his temples.
"Or it could be sooner." The urgency is clear in my voice. "We have to work with what we've got. We have a month to figure out what we're going to do. After that..." I don't finish the sentence. I don't need to. We both know what's at stake if we fail.
"We'll need to move fast. And Paul?" His eyes lock onto mine. "Remember, as important as Vivianne is, we can't lose sight of the bigger picture. The Swan must be our priority." Merlin nods slowly, his expression grave.
I nod, even as everything in me rebels against the idea. Because as much as I understand the importance of our mission, in my mind, there's nothing more important than saving Vivianne.
"We need to move faster." I turn back to Merlin. "Every day that passes is another day she's trapped."
His eyes soften, a rare show of emotion. "I understand. More than you know." His hand drifts to his pocket, where he keeps an old, faded photograph of Brigitte, the woman he loved and lost all those years ago.
"The Swan." Merlin's voice is urgent. "You're certain Vivianne saw it? You're absolutely sure it's there?"
I remember Vivianne's words. "She saw it. I painted it into the picture, and she recognized it. She told me she saw it. The Swan pendant is at the Faulks estate."
"After all this time... to be so close." His eyes blaze with a fire I haven't seen in years.
"We'll get it back. Along with Vivianne."
A shadow crosses Merlin's face. "What about Nicholas? If word gets out that the pendant has resurfaced..."
"Nicholas is dead." The memory of that night in the warehouse still fresh, still haunting. "He can't hurt us anymore."
Merlin nods, but doubt flickers in his eyes, the worry he can't shake. "You know as well as I do... Nicholas has a way of surviving. Even when we think he's down, he finds a way."
I clench my jaw. "Not this time. I watched him fall. I saw the blood. He's gone."
"You've seen him slip out of tighter situations. If Nicholas is alive... he'll come for it. And for Vivianne." But Merlin shakes his head.
I want to argue, to insist that Nicholas is dead, but the fear gnawing at Merlin's expression makes me hesitate. Nicholas was always unpredictable, always a step ahead, and Merlin has the right to be cautious.
"Even if Nicholas isn't a threat, with the Faulks' increased security at the estate, there's no way we can take the Swan." Merlin exhales, dragging a hand through his hair.
"The security is... intense. Armed guards, surveillance cameras, the works.
It's like they're expecting an invasion.
" I turn to the window, watching snowflakes dance in the wind.
"As much as I hate to say it, we need help.
" I run a hand over my face, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down.
My jaw clenches. The thought of Vivianne trapped behind those walls, a prisoner in her own home, makes my blood boil.
Merlin is silent for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is carefully neutral. "I might have a solution."
I turn, eyebrow raised.
"There's an organization. They operate in... shall we say, gray areas of the law. Specializing in extracting people from impossible situations."
"Hostage rescue?" I run a hand through my hair. "Can they be trusted?"
"They're professionals, discreet. And they have resources we lack." Merlin shrugs.
The idea of involving outsiders sets my teeth on edge. More variables. More potential for things to go wrong. But we're out of options.
"Make the call."
Merlin nods, reaching for his phone. As he steps out, I turn back to the window, my reflection ghostly in the glass.
"Hold on, Vivianne," I whisper. "I'm coming for you."
The next few days pass in an agonizing blur. Every hour stretches into what feels like an eternity as we wait for a response from Guardian HRS.
I throw myself into preparation—poring over blueprints of the Faulks estate, satellite images, every scrap of intelligence we've gathered—but it's not enough to quiet the growing desperation in my chest.
Merlin and I exchange few words, both of us knowing that until we have confirmation, all we can do is wait.
And waiting has never been my strong suit.