Chapter 61: Searching for the van
A deafening silence stretched over the line, heavy enough to drown out the city traffic, as if Xavier were taking a moment to process those words.
Then, the sharp, violent screech of a heavy chair slamming against a marble floor echoed through the receiver. Xavier was already on his feet.
"What do you mean abducted?!" Xavier’s voice flared with pure, commanding fury, vibrating with a force that made Samuel grip the phone tighter. "Under what authority? Who is responsible?"
"I am currently looking at her discarded sunglasses on the pavement, sir," Samuel reported, gritting his teeth to force his mind back into operational mode, fighting off the fog of shock as he turned around. "I am heading into the plaza’s security room right now to pull the CCTV feeds. Once I cut the call, I shall alert our trusted transit fleet to lock down the immediate perimeter, but we need the main grid security teams online now."
"Do it!" Xavier roared over the line. In the background, heavy, panicked footsteps echoed as he slammed his massive office door open to alert his private forces. "I want eyes on that vehicle, a plate number, a direction of travel, a description—anything! If a single hair on her head is harmed, I will tear this city apart block by block!"
"Understood, sir. I am pulling the feeds now," Samuel said, rushing toward the security office.
As his leather shoes pounded against the pavement, Samuel felt a sickening wave of self-reproach crash over him. This is my fault, he thought, his chest tightening with an agonizing weight. It’s entirely my fault.
He wasn’t her security detail, but he was the chief assistant. He was the one tasked with managing this entire movement.
His sole job today was to ensure her schedule went perfectly, to be her shadow, to remain exactly half a step behind her.
Yet, the moment a high-level corporate call came through, he had let his professional habits take over. He had stepped away. He had turned his back to look at a stupid brick wall just to catch the audio over the crowd noise.
He should have ignored the call. He should have let the boardroom floor wait. What did a bunch of wealthy, squabbling executives matter compared to her safety?
He had prided himself on his flawless work ethic, yet his adherence to standard corporate duties had just allowed his employer’s most valuable asset—and a woman he deeply respected—to be snatched right out from under his nose.
If he had just stayed by her side, if he hadn’t been distracted by that encrypted line, he could have intercepted them. He could have blocked them while she got away. He could have done something.
Instead, he had given them a perfect, two-minute window. And they had taken it.
Shaking the terrifying thoughts from his head, Samuel burst through the doors of the plaza’s security office.
He flashed his high-clearance executive ID, his authority cutting right through the staff’s initial confusion. Within seconds, he shoved his way past a startled guard to the primary console, taking absolute control of the station.
"Rewind to 3:40 PM," Samuel commanded the trembling technician sitting at the board. "The intersection leading to the main traffic vein. Show me all the vehicles driving at high speed within this exact time frame."
The monitor flickered, rewinding the digital files in a high-speed blur before settling into real-time playback.
A second later, a heavily modified, matte-black transport van tore into the frame. It weaved violently through the mid-afternoon traffic, its tires practically smoking as it swung around a sharp corner.
It moved with a terrifying, practiced efficiency that proved this was definitely not its first heist. These were professionals who knew exactly how to slip through a crowd without causing a scene.
"Pause there," Samuel barked, leaning so close to the console that his glasses almost touched the glass screen. "Enhance the rear bumper. Get the license plate."
The technician frantically clicked the stylus, zooming in on the vehicle’s shadow. "Sir, there is no license plate. It’s covered by a mechanized shroud. But wait—look at the sliding side panel as it passes right under the streetlamp."
The screen pixelated for a fraction of a second before sharpening into high-definition clarity.
And then, Samuel froze.
The air in the cramped, air-conditioned room suddenly felt incredibly thin, suffocatingly heavy. Samuel’s hand, which had been resting firmly on the edge of the desk, stiffened into a rigid, bloodless lock.
Staring back at him from the matte-black steel door of the van was a sleek, unmistakable emblem etched in crimson and gold ink—a fierce, coiled dragon clutching a set of scales.
It was him.
Samuel pressed the phone back to his ear to reach Xavier again and his boss’ heavy, impatient voice broke the sudden paralysis. "Samuel! Speak to me! Do you have a visual on the vehicle? What is the license plate number?"
Samuel swallowed hard, but his throat was completely dry, like sand. His professional mask didn’t just crack—it vanished entirely, replaced by an icy, paralyzing dread that shook him to his very core.
"Mr. Reed..." Samuel’s voice dropped into a tight, hollow whisper that barely carried over the line. "There is no license plate. But there is a marking on the side panel. A crimson and gold insignia."
Samuel paused, his heart hammering violently against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"It’s a coiled dragon, sir."
On the other end of the line, the chaotic storm of noise instantly ceased as they all heard this over the phone.
The shouting of orders, the rustling of papers, the frantic movement of private forces—everything slammed into a dead, terrifying silence.
Xavier froze completely.
As the billionaire ruler of a vast corporate empire, Xavier Reed always had a calculated strategy for a crisis. If it had been a standard kidnapping by a rival family or a greedy syndicate, he would have used raw financial power, legal blockades, or overwhelming private military force to crush them into submission.
But that dragon emblem belonged to a man who didn’t operate on human logic, corporate politics, or common sense. He didn’t bargain, and he absolutely didn’t compromise. He acted entirely out of pure, chaotic self-interest.
In a twisted way, he and April were like two sides of the same coin—both deeply valued wealth, assets, and resources. But while April possessed a moral compass and a grand plan for survival, this man’s moral compass was entirely dead. He was a predator who collected things simply because he could, and he destroyed anyone who got in his way.
"The... Golden Dragon," Xavier finally whispered, his previous fury completely stripped away, leaving only a cold, hollow shock.
"Yes, sir," Samuel replied, his eyes locked onto the frozen image of the dragon emblem on the screen. "If Miss April has been taken by him... if she is currently locked in his basement..."
"Then normal rules don’t apply anymore," Xavier cut him off, a sudden, desperate panic bleeding into his tone. "He doesn’t keep hostages for ransom unless he’s being paid an astronomical amount by a specific client."
Xavier pressed a tight fist against his forehead, his breath hitched as the sheer horror of the situation set in. All his wealth, all his connections, meant absolutely nothing to the beast that just took her. "If Miss April says the wrong thing to him, or if he realizes what she’s actually capable of... she may not survive the night."
Samuel gulped, the silence in the security room feeling heavier than ever before. He stared at the screen, his mind racing through the endless web of dangerous players in the city.
Just who in this city was desperate enough, or foolish enough, to get such a dangerous, uncontrollable monster involved with Miss April?
