Chapter 7 - The Kidnapping Plot
The rain had turned into a thick, suffocating fog by five in the morning as Lorenzo’s convoy sped toward the Calumet shipping yards.
Inside the estate, Sophie woke up suddenly.
She sat up in her large canopy bed, her heart pounding. The house was too quiet. Elena was sitting in the armchair by the door, sleeping lightly, a warm blanket over her knees.
Sophie reached into her nightstand drawer and pulled out her canvas sketchbook. She flipped to the last page—a drawing she had made the night before. It showed a big man in a dark coat standing under a sky filled with blue stars, holding a small girl’s hand.
Suddenly, the bedroom door clicked open.
Elena stirred instantly, her eyes opening. "Who is—"
Before Elena could stand, two men dressed in black security uniforms stepped into the room. One of them held a compressed air tranquilizer pistol. A quiet PFFT sounded, and Elena collapsed back onto the armchair, unconscious.
Sophie gasped, leaping out of bed, clutching her sketchbook.
An insider—a rogue security officer bribed by Valenti’s remaining millions—had breached the inner sanctum of the Duca fortress.
"Grab the kid!" the man growled, reaching for Sophie.
Sophie didn't scream. She remembered what Sister Margaret had told her: Do not talk about being brave. Walk in and tell the truth.
She grabbed the heavy brass lamp from her nightstand and swung it with all her small might, slamming it into the man's shins.
"Argh! You little brat!" he yelled, stumbling back.
Sophie dashed toward the hallway, her small bare feet flying across the cold wooden floors. She knew the layout of the third floor. She sprinted toward the service elevator, slipping inside and hitting the button for the basement parking garage.
As the doors closed, the second intruder lunged forward, but missed her by inches.
Down in the dark garage, Sophie hid behind a row of vintage black sedans. Her chest heaved, her hands shaking. She knew Lorenzo was at the docks fighting the bad men. She knew she couldn't call him on a phone she didn't have.
She opened her sketchbook, tore out a piece of paper, and pulled a small blue crayon from her pocket.
With quick, urgent strokes, she drew a picture of a ship, an anchor, and a blue dress with three cross-stitches—the symbol her mother had taught her. She placed the paper on the hood of Lorenzo’s favorite car, weighing it down with a heavy silver wrench.
Then, she heard the heavy footsteps entering the garage.
"Found you, little girl," a dark voice rasped from the shadows.
Ten minutes later, Lorenzo’s SUV skidded to a halt outside the garage entrance as he returned from a false lead at the north perimeter.
He burst into the subterranean room, sensing the disturbance instantly. He saw the unconscious guards near the elevator. His blood ran cold.
"SOPHIE!" Lorenzo roared, his voice echoing through the massive concrete space like thunder.
He ran to his sedan. There, sitting on the gleaming black hood, was the piece of paper.
Lorenzo picked up the drawing. He stared at the ship, the anchor, and the blue stitches.
Dante ran up behind him, his face pale with horror. "Boss... they took her. Valenti’s secondary team... they bypassed the main gate!"
Lorenzo’s hand tightened around the paper until his knuckles turned white. His eyes lost every trace of human warmth, turning into two coals of pure, unadulterated vengeance.
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"He didn't just cross a line, Dante," Lorenzo whispered, his voice dangerously low, calm, and terrifying. "He stepped into hell."
He turned to his men. "Every gun. Every car. Every man who owes the Duca name a favor. We flatten the Calumet docks until there is nothing left but ash."
