Chapter 22
Enzo
Idial Remy again. Straight to voicemail. Again.
I pull up the tracking app while Ansel and Breck try their phones. “Something’s wrong.”
The app loads, but instead of a live location, it shows a warning message: Device offline. Showing last known location.
Her phone stopped sending pings three minutes ago. The last location is frozen at a commercial plaza, not her parents’ house.
My stomach drops. “Her phone went offline. It’s not moving. Just showing where it was when it stopped transmitting.”
Ansel and Breck are behind me, both trying to use their phones. Same result.
We’re moving immediately, running for the elevator.
“Call her parents,” Ansel barks at Breck. “Find out if she’s there.”
Breck dials as we run. “Mrs. Ray? It’s Breck Jacobs. Is Remy there with you?” His face goes pale. “She’s not? When did she say she was coming? Okay. No, I’m sure she’s fine. We’re tracking her now. I’ll call you back.”
He hangs up. “She told her mom she was coming over an hour ago. She never arrived.”
We’re in the SUV within seconds. Our driver, Joshua, doesn’t ask questions, just takes the address I give him.
I pull up every camera feed I can access remotely, searching for the location where Remy’s phone went dark.
“There.” I tap the screen. “Small shopping center. Coffee shop, dry cleaner, pharmacy.”
I hack into the coffee shop’s security system. The footage from fifteen minutes ago loads: Remy walking out of the shop, carrying coffee and a pastry bag. She looks relaxed. Happy.
She makes it halfway across the parking lot.
Then two men attack. Remy fights, but they’re too fast. One covers her mouth.
The coffee and pastries hit the ground. Her phone falls.
She bites down, manages one scream before they drag her toward a van.
One of the men picks up her phone and crushes it under his boot.
Twenty seconds. That’s all it took.
“Fuck.” The word tears out of me. “They took her.”
Ansel leans over my shoulder, watching the footage. His face goes white. “When?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.” My hands are shaking. “They have a fifteen-minute head start.”
By the time our SUV screeches into the parking lot, police cars are already here.
I’m out before we fully stop. I see her crushed phone and spilled coffee spreading across the asphalt. Pastries are scattered on the ground. The rideshare car is still here, and police are interviewing the driver.
My phone buzzes, and it’s Adam, our head of security.
Adam: Footage pulled from the building. Remy left at 2:17 PM. We’re pulling traffic cams now to track the van.
Me: Track every camera in a ten-mile radius. Find that van.
Ansel is already talking to a police officer, giving them descriptions from the security footage.
“Send additional security to Remy’s parents’ house,” Ansel barks into his phone. “I want them protected.” He ends the call and looks at Breck. “Go with them. They need to know what’s happening, and they need someone there if Trent tries to contact them.”
Breck’s already moving. “Call me the second you know anything.”
“I promise.”
As Breck leaves, my phone buzzes again.
Adam: Found proof of an internal leak.
I show Ansel the message.
“Someone helped them,” I say flatly.
We get back in the SUV. I’m already pulling up our company’s security logs. If someone on the inside gave them information, there will be a trail.
I start with Damon’s accounts. His company email is clean, but I dig deeper—network traffic, encrypted communications, metadata from every device that’s touched our systems, including his personal phone.
The results load: dozens of encrypted messages between Damon’s phone and a burner phone.
I decrypt the first message.
Unknown Number: Need everything you can get on Remy Ray. Schedules, addresses, habits, weaknesses.
Damon: Why?
Unknown Number: Five figures if the information is good. Six if it’s comprehensive.
Damon: I want fifty thousand up front.
I scroll down. My vision goes red.
Damon gave them everything. Remy’s apartment. Her gym. Her favorite coffee shop.
Then two weeks ago:
Damon: They’re taking her to Paris. My name is on their hotel reservation. They forgot to take me off.
That is how they got access in Paris. That is the last message.
There aren’t any messages from today, so Trent and his guys must have just followed her from our penthouse. Someone must have been watching it.
“Ansel.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. “Look at this.”
He reads the messages from Damon over my shoulder. His breathing changes. “That asshole sold her out.”
I run facial recognition on the coffee shop footage. One of the men has prior arrest records for assault and kidnapping. The other—Russell Cooper—is a former military man. Dishonorable discharge. Current employer: Stanley Trent.
Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. “Damon gave them everything they needed.”
Ansel’s phone rings, and he answers on speaker.
“We tracked the van,” Adam reports. “Warehouse district on the south side. But they switched vehicles. And we can’t get the location for that vehicle.”
My vision tunnels.
“Where did they go?” Ansel’s voice is deadly calm.
I grab the phone. “Just find her.”
“Understood,” Adam responds. “And we’ve located Damon.”
“Where is he?” Ansel demands.
“His apartment.”
The apartment is on the way to the warehouse district, so we will follow that lead until our security team can get more information on where the assailants are taking Remy.
When we arrive at Damon’s place, security lets us up without question. He never bothered removing us from his guest list.
I use the key he gave me years ago and open his door. Damon is on his couch, watching television. He goes white when he sees us.
Ansel crosses the room in three strides, grabs Damon by the shirt, pulls him up off the couch, and slams him against the wall. “Where is she?”
“What are you talking about?” Damon’s response comes out strained, Ansel’s grip making it hard for him to breathe.
I grab my tablet and shove the decrypted messages in his face. “You’ve been working with Trent. You gave him Remy.”
“You guys fucked me over!” Damon’s voice cracks. “For her!”
“No!” Ansel yells. “This is on you. She was completely professional while you were still in the office. You lied to us!”
Damon doesn’t respond right away, and his shoulders slump. “Trent said he just wanted to scare her, to get leverage over you guys.”
“And you believed him?” Ansel’s voice is lethal. “Well, now, she’s missing. You really fucked up!”
“They took her?” Damon asks incredulously. “I swear, I thought he just wanted information! He said he wanted to make you guys sweat. That’s all. I never thought— Where is she?”
“You tell us.” I’m in his face now. “Where would Trent take her?”
“I don’t know! He never told me his plans.”
Ansel shakes him. “You gave him everything he needed to kidnap her. Now you’re going to help us find her, or I swear to God, Damon, I will kill you myself.”
“Wait, wait!” Damon’s eyes are wild. “There was something. A property. I met Trent there once. It was a place off the grid where he handles problems. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”
I have to take a deep breath to calm myself. I’m holding myself back from punching him in the face. “Where?”
“Outside the city. An old industrial site. I don’t know the exact address.” Damon grabs his phone from his pocket and pulls up the approximate location. “He said nobody goes out there anymore.”
Ansel releases him, already pulling out his own phone. “You’d better not be lying!”
“I’m not!” Damon is sobbing now. “I never wanted her hurt. I just… I wanted you guys to suffer a little. To know what it felt like. I didn’t know he’d actually take her. Please, you have to believe me.”
“We don’t have to believe anything,” Ansel snarls. “But if this lead is good, you might—might—live through what’s coming for you.”
“I didn’t know. I swear.” Damon looks up at us, and for the first time in months, I see the person he used to be. Scared. Lost. Desperate for forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Ansel’s jaw tightens. For one second, I think he might hit him again. Instead, he steps back. “Your apology doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
“I know.” Damon’s voice is barely a whisper. “I know.”
We’re out the door before he can say anything else.
In the SUV, Ansel is already on the phone with the security team, giving them the location. Then he barks his orders. “Pull satellite imagery, property records, anything you can find.”
My phone buzzes. Ansel, Breck, and I are all copied on the message.
Adam: Found it. Abandoned warehouse complex. Registered to a shell company. Three buildings, mostly demolished. One structure still has power.
I pull up the coordinates and show Ansel.
“Okay.” His jaw is tight. “That’s where he took her.”
I call Breck.
“Tell me you found her.” His voice is raw.
“We have a location. Damon gave us a lead on one of Trent’s properties.”
“I’m coming!”
“No.” Ansel takes the phone. “Stay with her parents. If this goes wrong, if Trent contacts them, we need you there. Please, Breck. For Remy.”
“Bring her home,” Breck exhales. He wants to be with us, but I’m sure he knows Remy would want someone to be with her parents.
“We will,” Ansel promises.
“What if Damon was lying?” I stare at the tablet, which shows satellite images of the property. “What if this is a dead end?”
“Then we make him wish he’d never been born.” Ansel’s voice is flat. “But my gut says he’s telling the truth. He looked terrified.”
“Good.” My voice drops an octave. “He should be.”
The city gives way to industrial wasteland. Abandoned factories, overgrown lots, and ahead, barely visible in the darkness, is the warehouse complex. One building with lights on.
“We’re three minutes out. And the FBI is on their way, too,” the security lead says over the radio. “Wait for backup.”
“No.” Ansel is already out of the SUV. “Remy’s been in there for over an hour. We’re not waiting three more minutes. You and the FBI agents can meet us there.”
I’m right behind him.
The building looms ahead, dark and silent except for a generator humming somewhere inside.
“Whatever happens,” Ansel says quietly, “we get Remy out first. Nothing else matters.”
“Nothing else matters,” I echo.
We move toward the entrance.
Remy is in there. Scared. Likely hurt. Waiting for us.
And we’re coming. Whatever it takes.