Page 4

Something about this doesn’t sit right. A brazen daylight abduction, no immediate demands…? It’s too clean, too practiced. My gut churns with unease.
“Mitzy,” I call out to our tech wizard. “Do you have anything at that location? Any video? Something?” It would be nice to see the actual kidnapping. There’s much to learn there.
“Pulling up what I can as we speak.” Mitzy’s fingers fly over her keyboard, screens flickering with data faster than I can process. “Got a hit on a traffic cam. Uploading now.”
The main screen fills with grainy security footage. A nondescript, dark van idles at a stoplight, two men in the front with faces obscured by masks.
“There,” Mitzy points. “Watch the van.”
The light changes and the van pulls away, moving slower than the surrounding traffic. It crawls along the curb, clearly searching for something—or someone.
Suddenly, the van slows to a roll. A young woman enters the frame, walking briskly down the sidewalk, her blonde hair catching the afternoon sun.
“That’s my daughter.” Holbrook lurches forward, face draining of color. “Oh God, Aria…”
Aria Holbrook looks every inch the socialite in designer clothes, completely oblivious to the danger approaching. Her head is down, and she’s looking at her phone.
The van’s side door slides open with startling speed.
On-screen, Aria finally notices the danger. Her head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise and then fear. She tries to run, but it’s too late. The men are on her in seconds.
Holbrook’s hands clench into fists, his knuckles white. A low, animal sound escapes his throat.
Two men, their faces hidden by ski masks, leap out. They move with practiced efficiency, a choreographed dance of violence.
One grabs her arms while the other clamps a hand over her mouth, stifling her screams. They lift her off her feet, her designer heels kicking uselessly in the air.
“No, no, no,” Holbrook mutters, his voice a broken whisper. He reaches out, fingers brushing the screen as if he could somehow reach through and save her.
But then—movement. Another figure rushes into the frame. A young woman, clothes ragged and hair wild, throws herself at the kidnappers, trying to pull Aria to safety. For a moment, it looks like she might succeed. She pulls Aria partway free, her face a mask of determination.
The victory is short-lived. One of the kidnappers produces a syringe, jabbing it into Aria’s neck. The blonde goes limp instantly. The other attacker turns on the would-be rescuer, and there’s a sickening crack as something—a fist or weapon—connects with her skull.
Both women are tossed into the van like ragdolls. The door slams shut, and the vehicle peels away from the curb, merging smoothly into traffic, leaving only an empty sidewalk and shocked bystanders behind.
The entire abduction takes less than thirty seconds.
Silence falls over the room, heavy and oppressive. The footage loops, forcing us to watch the nightmare unfold again.
My eyes narrow, focusing on the second woman. “Mitzy, back it up and freeze it on the other woman. Who’s that?”
“Why are you worried about some street rat?” Holbrook’s head snaps up, eyes blazing with fear and anger. “I hired you to rescue my daughter, not waste time on—” He stops abruptly, the words hanging in the air like shrapnel.
The room stills. Holbrook’s face crumples, realizing what he said. He bends his head, shoulders sagging under the weight of shame.
“I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. “That was… God, I didn’t mean…” He runs his hand down his face, mortified. “I’m not myself. I would never wish that on anyone. Forgive me.”
I acknowledge his apology without words. Fear makes monsters of us all sometimes.
“Unknown female,” Mitzy says, fingers already tapping away. “Running facial recognition now.”
“She wasn’t the target,” I mutter, mind racing. “Got herself in trouble trying to save Aria.”
Mitzy, ever professional, zooms in on the image without comment. The frozen frame shows a girl, maybe in her early twenties. Pretty, in a haunted sort of way. Her eyes are wide with the injustice of Aria’s kidnapping.
My gaze lingers on the frozen image of the woman. Something about her tugs at me—the set of her jaw, the fiercedetermination in her eyes. In a world where most people would turn away, she threw herself into danger to help a stranger.
Warmth spreads in my chest, unexpected and almost foreign. Admiration, I realize. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that for anyone.