Chapter 6
GRANT
“Where is she? Where’s my wife?” The words burn up my throat with hot urgency.
No reply comes. My pulse thumps hard in my ears. “Answer me!”
Officer Gunn raises a hand and levels it with his chest, then lowers it an inch. The message is clear. Stay calm.
When the response finally comes, it’s distorted, full of static. “Why are you late?”
I grit my teeth, my rage rising. This is the asshole who ripped my wife away from me at gunpoint along with my unborn child—a baby that’s no less than a miracle.
The same man who shot my tire and gave me the impossible task of getting back here in one hour.
And now he’s asking why I’m late? If I could reach through the phone and strangle him, I would.
But Gunn is right. I can’t do anything that will further endanger Avery.
So, I force myself to dial it back a notch.
“You made it difficult. Put my wife on the line.”
“You aren’t the one in control here. You don’t give the orders.”
“What do you want?”
“Four million.”
“What?”
“If you want to see your wife again, you will transfer four million dollars to the account listed on the back of the card in the next five minutes.”
My knees buckle. It feels like I’ve been punched. So, it is about money. “I … don’t have access to that kind of cash.”
“Agreed, you have access to three point nine million, to be exact.”
I stand there reeling, fighting for balance.
He shouldn’t know this. No one should. A while back, Avery and I had decided to transfer most of our retirement into Bitcoin and Ethereum.
It was a risky move, but we’d both agreed crypto was the future of finance—a decentralized system not controlled by massive institutions that can fail at any moment.
A bet that cryptocurrency was not only safer than the stock market, but here to stay and would allow us to retire years sooner than we would be able to otherwise.
A bet that had already gone wildly in our favor.
And someone found out.
I swallow hard and flip the card over. There’s a QR code printed on the back.
Gunn watches me with wide eyes as the voice drawls on, impossibly deep. “Scan the code with the phone, log in to your account, and transfer the funds.”
“I need to talk to Avery first. How do I know she’s safe?”
“You have four minutes.”
Shit. My brain goes into overdrive. It’s not as simple as that.
I can’t just log in and transfer the money.
The account requires dual-factor authentication, which means a code will be sent to my email or my phone to verify I’m the one who’s actually signing on.
It’s not usually a big deal, but I don’t have my phone. My phone is gone.
But my laptop isn’t.
I search for it and spot it resting on the side table.
I’m about to move for it when Gunn steps in front of me and mimes covering the phone.
When I do, he leans in and whispers, “You can’t do this.
There’s no guarantee they’ll release your wife if you give them what they want.
If they get the cash, there’s a good chance they’ll kill her anyway.
You need to stall until I can get my people involved.
You’re the one with the leverage here. Don’t give it away. ”
It’s true—I am. I have what they want. But they have what I need, what I literally can’t live without. I move my hand and speak into the phone. “Can we slow down for a minute and talk about this? Just let me speak to Avery first. How do I know she’s still alive?”
“Mr. Wilson,” the voice says, “I fear you aren’t taking this situation seriously enough. Let me assure you that if you don’t transfer the money in the next three minutes, I will fill your wife’s head with every bullet left in my gun.”
“If you do, you won’t get a cent.”
“Do you think you’re special?” the voice snaps back. “We have a long list of targets. You’re only one of them. We’ll simply kill your wife and move on. Go ahead and test me. Find out what happens.”
My heart stops. “Okay, okay. Give me a second.”
I move. I push past Gunn toward the laptop and hit the power button.
The machine whirs, taking an impossibly long time to load before the screen blinks and comes to life.
I raise the business card and bring the QR code into focus through the phone’s camera, then click on the link that pops up.
The exchange appears on the cellphone’s screen.
I enter my credentials and, as I expected, am required to confirm my account.
I open Chrome on my laptop and surf to Gmail.
The message is waiting for me, looking sinister in my inbox.
Click this button to confirm your device.
“Two minutes,” the voice says.
A hand hits my shoulder. I startle and find Gunn staring at me with eyes that are wide in warning. He shakes his head. Don’t do this.
But I have to. It isn’t his wife who was abducted. It isn’t his child whose life is on the line. He doesn’t have anything to lose, unlike me. Right now, my entire world hangs in the balance. And if I don’t do this, it could all be wiped away in an instant.
I click the button to confirm the phone and my account loads: $3,886,554.23. A transfer window appears a second later—one populated with a crypto wallet string I don’t recognize. A series of digital characters ready to swallow every cent Avery and I have ever worked for.
I type in the amount, bring my thumb toward the green transfer button, and hesitate.
Once I do this, once I submit the transfer, I’ll never be able to recover the funds.
Transferring crypto isn’t the same as sending a wire.
With a wire you can sometimes get your money back if needed.
Not with Bitcoin or Ethereum. Once you send crypto to someone, it’s gone.
And as Gunn pointed out, so is my leverage.
“One minute,” the voice says. “Transfer the money.”
I close my eyes and swallow. I can’t do it. Not yet. I have to know. “Put my wife on the phone.”
“Forty seconds. Transfer the funds.”
“No, not until I speak to Avery.” My ribs tighten as I say it. But I have to know. I have to.
“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Mr. Wilson. I won’t ask again.”
“And I won’t transfer a fucking dime if you don’t let me talk to my wife first!” The words pour out of me in a hot rush, my rage resurfacing, my absolute frustration at how powerless I am right now. But I won’t send them a cent until I know she’s still alive. “Put her on!”
The line goes silent, and my world turns to molasses.
Every second that passes feels like a noose cinching tighter around Avery’s neck.
And not just hers, but mine too. Because if this doesn’t work, if this man doesn’t let me speak to her, if he actually carries through with his threat to kill her, I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll never be able to let it go.
No response comes. His breath leaks through the phone in a distorted hiss.
In. Out. In. Out. In.
My heart rages in my chest. My head swells with panic.
Put her on! Put her on! Put her on!
Finally, a sharp rustling sound floods the phone and I hear a new voice. “G-Grant … is that you?” The tone is frail and broken—a feather lost in a gust of wind—but it’s Avery’s. Relief pours through me. She’s alive, and I still have a chance to save her.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice shaking. “Did they hurt you?”
“Grant, I’m so scared.”
“I’m going to find you, baby. I swear I’m not going to let them—”
A rattle cuts me off, followed by a choking gasp, then the robotic voice is back, slicing straight into my ear. “There. Now transfer the fucking money!”
And I do.