Chapter 11 - THE EMPTY CRIB
-11-
The synthetic words blazed against the dark screen of my dropped phone like a neon warning sign: “Helen was just the distraction, Rue. Check the east wing nursery.”
"Harlan," I choked out, my voice pitching up with sudden, unmitigated terror as I pointed a shaking finger at the floor. "The phone... look at the phone."
Harlan didn't ask questions. In a single, fluid motion, he snatched the phone off the concrete, his eyes scanning the text message. The cold, untouchable warlord vanished in a millisecond, replaced by a father whose worst and darkest nightmare had just been brought to life.
"Get the tactical teams on the secure channel," Harlan roared, turning on his heel and sprinting toward the stairwell with a speed that defied his heavy frame. "Code Red! East Wing! Move!"
I didn't wait for him. I bolted up the concrete stairs ahead of him, my boots slipping on the steps as I scrambled through the hidden wine rack door and out into the grand foyer. My lungs burned, my legs screamed with exhaustion, but the image of Belle’s pale, shivering face in the parking garage fueled every frantic stride.
We tore through the second-floor gallery, our footsteps thundering against the polished hardwood floors.
When we reached the double doors of the east wing nursery, they were wide open.
The room was bathed in the soft, warm glow of a bedside nightlight, casting gentle shadows across the pink-canopied bed and the plush toys scattered across the floor.
The crib was empty.
The white silk blankets were tossed aside, rumpled and still warm to the touch. But the pink stuffed rabbit Belle clutched every night was lying abandoned on the floor near the rocking chair.
"No..." I whispered, stumbling into the room, falling to my knees beside the empty crib. "No, no, no. She was right here. I checked on her before we went down to the vault."
Harlan stalked into the nursery, his pistol drawn, his eyes sweeping the room with a terrifying, predatory intensity. He checked the bathroom, the walk-in closet, the balcony doors.
The balcony doors were unlocked, swinging slightly in the freezing midnight wind.
Harlan stepped out onto the stone balcony, leaning over the wrought-iron railing to scan the gardens below. Through the driving sleet, a single set of fresh boot prints cut a deep path across the freshly fallen snow on the terrace, leading straight toward the perimeter wall where a service gate stood ajar.
"They used the distraction in the data center," Harlan said, his voice dropping into a dark, razor-sharp whisper that sounded like a death sentence. "Helen wasn't the master-minding mole. She was the decoy designed to pull my entire security detail down into the subterranean vault, leaving the east wing completely undefended."
"Who?" I cried, scrambling to my feet and rushing out onto the balcony, gripping the iron railing as the freezing sleet bit into my face. "Who took her, Harlan? Arthur Sterling is locked in his mansion! His men are scattered!"
"Not Arthur's men," Harlan stated, stepping back inside the nursery, his face carved from absolute, unforgiving stone. "There is a second player on the board. Someone who knew the estate layout just as well as Helen. Someone who wants to watch the Voss empire burn to its very foundation."
He raised his burner phone, dialing a direct, classified number with his thumb.
"This is Voss," he barked the moment the call connected. "Initiate lockdown of the entire tri-county area. Close the airport, block the river bridges, and mobilize every asset we have on the ground. If my daughter is harmed... I will personally burn every city block between here and Chicago until I find the person responsible."
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He hung up the phone and looked at me. The cold, unyielding corporate titan was gone, replaced by a desperate, grieving father.
"We are going to find her, Rue," Harlan vowed, his dark eyes burning with an unholy fire. "And when we do... there is not a court on this earth that will save the person who took my child."
