Chapter 2 - The Orphanage of Whispers
The interior of the heavy SUV was warm,
smelling of expensive leather and subtle tobacco.
Emily sat on the plush rear seat,
wrapped in a thick cashmere blanket that Dominic had retrieved from the trunk.
In front of her sat a hot container of soup and a sandwich,
steam rising into the chilled air inside the cabin.
She ate hesitantly at first,
taking tiny,
cautious bites,
as if she expected someone to snatch the food away from her at any moment.
"Eat as much as you want,
sweetheart,"
I said softly,
sitting across from her while Dominic drove us toward my safehouse in Oak Park.
"There is plenty more."
She swallowed hard,
wiping her mouth with the back of her trembling hand.
"Thank you,
Mister Ross,"
she whispered,
looking down at her clean shoes.
"Just Sebastian,"
I corrected her,
offering a gentle smile that felt strange on a face that had not smiled in a year.
"Emily,
I need you to tell me everything you know about the boy in that picture."
"Lucas?"
she asked,
her eyes lighting up slightly at the mention of his name.
"Yes,"
I nodded,
leaning forward,
resting my elbows on my knees.
"Where did you meet him?"
Emily took a deep breath,
clasping her small hands around the warm paper cup of hot chocolate.
"It was at the old brick building near the river,"
she began,
her voice trembling slightly as memory surfaced.
"A bad man took me there three weeks ago.
There were other kids there too.
We weren't allowed to go outside.
They made us sleep on thin mats on the cold floor."
My blood ran cold.
Marcus Vance was operating an illegal detention facility right under my nose,
using abandoned industrial sites to house trafficked children or high-value hostages.
"And Lucas was there?"
I asked,
keeping my voice steady so I wouldn't frighten her.
"Yes,"
Emily said.
"He came two months ago.
He was very quiet,
but he was brave.
Whenever the guards weren't looking,
he would tell us stories about his dad."
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes,
but I forced them back.
"What kind of stories?"
"He said his dad was a big,
strong man who owned the whole city,"
Emily smiled weakly.
"He said his dad would come and save him,
no matter how long it took.
He told me not to be scared because his dad never breaks a promise."
A painful lump formed in my throat.
All those agonizing months,
while I thought Lucas had forgotten me or was living peacefully somewhere far away,
my seven-year-old son was holding onto faith,
waiting for me to come for him.
"How did he get that picture?"
I asked.
"He had it hidden in his shoe,"
Emily explained.
"He said his mommy gave it to him before she disappeared.
Yesterday,
the bad men left the door unlocked because the lights went out during the storm.
Lucas grabbed my hand and we ran out through the laundry hatch."
"Did you escape together?"
"We ran into the dark,"
she nodded,
her eyes filling with tears again.
"But bad men with dogs started chasing us.
Lucas told me to hide under the wooden porch near the bridge.
He gave me his picture and the rest of his bread roll.
He told me to run to the street with the flickering lamp,
because he knew his dad's guards checked that area every afternoon."
"He planned it,"
I whispered,
stunned by the brilliance and bravery of my young son.
He knew my patrol routes.
He had paid attention when he was smaller,
whenever I talked about my security perimeters.
"He told me to stay there until I saw a man who looked like the picture,"
Emily continued,
sniffling.
"He said if the bad men caught him,
I had to give the picture to his dad so his dad would know he was still fighting."
Dominic glanced at me through the rearview mirror,
his expression tight with suppressed rage.
"Boss,"
Dominic said softly.
"The drainage tunnels near the river dock lead directly into the abandoned slaughterhouse district in Sector 4."
"Assemble the heavy tactical squad,"
I commanded,
my voice turning into ice.
May you like
"Call Marcus Vance's main office.
Tell him Sebastian Ross is coming."
