The crest of Saint Jude’s Academy glittered in gold leaf at the top of the folded parchment sticking out of the teenager's torn backpack pocket

(Word count target: ~1500 words)

Despite Croft remaining behind bars, his network of corrupt associates was still active. Two months before Maya’s high school graduation, subtle signs began to emerge that someone was watching our family.

Unmarked black SUVs parked near Sophie's school entrance. Strange network pings targeted Harrison Global’s private servers.

I doubled our security detail, assigning round-the-clock bodyguards for both Maya and Sophie.

Then, on a rainy Friday evening, the trap snapped shut.

I was finishing a late meeting at the office when my phone rang with an emergency alert from our home security system.

I picked it up immediately. "Marcus, report!"

"Daniel, someone cut the power grid to the penthouse building!" Marcus’s voice was filled with static. "Our secondary generators didn't kick in—the lines were sabotaged! I'm moving toward the girls' room right now!"

Gunshots echoed through the phone line, followed by a loud crash and the line dying completely.

"Marcus!" I screamed into the phone. "Marcus!"

Nothing but static.

Panic surged through me like an electric shock. I grabbed my coat and ran straight for the private elevator, firing off orders to my head of security on the way down.

"Get three response units to the Gold Coast penthouse NOW! Call the SWAT team!"

I drove my car through the rain-slicked streets of Chicago like a man possessed, running red lights and weaving through traffic. Ten agonizing minutes later, I slammed my brakes outside our apartment tower.

The building was completely dark, surrounded by rain and silence.

I drew my licensed firearm from my shoulder holster and rushed into the lobby. The front desk security guards were unconscious on the floor, bound with zip-ties.

I didn't wait for the elevator. I ran up the fourteen flights of emergency stairs, my heart pounding against my ribs, my lungs burning with every step.

When I burst through the door of my penthouse, the sight before me made my blood run cold.

The living room was torn apart. Furniture was overturned, glass was shattered across the floor, and Marcus lay near the hallway, bleeding from a shoulder wound but still conscious.

"Daniel..." Marcus gasped, holding his arm. "They... they took them..."

"Where?" I knelt beside him, checking his wound.

"The roof..." Marcus whispered. "A helicopter..."

I didn't hesitate. I turned and sprinted back into the stairwell, climbing the final two flights toward the rooftop access door.

I kicked the door open into the pouring rain.

Standing near the edge of the helipad was Victor Thorne—Croft’s former defense attorney—holding a heavy silenced pistol. Beside him were two armed mercenaries, holding Maya and Sophie at gunpoint.