Chapter 5 - THE CABIN
Vincent ignored the warning.
He just didn’t ignore the word rigged.
Two security vehicles reached the property after dark.
No lights.
No sirens.
No heroics.
Vincent brought Dominic, his security chief Rafael, and two men he trusted.
Bellamy and Isabella remained locked inside separate rooms at the estate.
Grace and Emily stayed under protection.
The cabin looked abandoned.
Moss covered the roof.
One window was broken.
The front porch sagged toward the ground.
Dominic stared at it.
“I’ve been here before.”
Vincent looked at him.
“When?”
“As a kid. Your father brought us hunting.”
“You said you barely remembered this place.”
“I didn’t until I saw it.”
Rafael checked the entrance.
“Pressure wire under the floorboards.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Sofia knew.”
They entered through a rear window.
Inside was dust.
Old furniture.
Animal droppings.
Nothing.
Then Dominic found a new padlock behind a false wall in the pantry.
Rafael cut it.
Behind the wall was a narrow staircase going down.
The basement smelled like bleach and damp concrete.
Vincent’s flashlight swept across a metal chair.
Leather restraints.
A mattress.
Medical supplies.
And a camera mounted in the corner.
Dominic whispered, “Jesus.”
Vincent found scratches carved into the concrete wall.
Four vertical lines.
Another four.
Another four.
Weeks.
Maybe months.
Then he saw initials.
S.M.
Vincent touched them.
His hand shook.
“Sofia was here.”
Dominic looked sick.
“Vincent…”
“Don’t.”
Vincent moved deeper into the room.
A table stood against the back wall.
On it were empty prescription bottles.
All issued under fake names.
One still had a partial label.
ISABELLA ROM—
Dominic stared.
“Her?”
Vincent picked it up.
Anti-anxiety medication.
Strong sedatives.
“Maybe these weren’t for Isabella.”
They heard movement upstairs.
Rafael raised his weapon.
“Someone’s here.”
A door slammed.
Footsteps ran across the porch.
One of the guards shouted.
Vincent raced outside.
A man in a black jacket disappeared through the trees.
Dominic ran after him.
“Stop!”
The man turned and fired.
The shot cracked through the woods.
Dominic dropped.
“Dominic!”
Vincent dragged him behind a tree.
Blood soaked Dominic’s sleeve.
“Arm,” Dominic gasped. “It’s just my arm.”
Rafael fired toward the fleeing shadow but stopped when the man reached the road.
A vehicle roared away.
Vincent called the estate.
No answer from Grace’s assigned guard.
He called again.
Nothing.
Then his phone rang.
Grace.
Vincent answered.
“Grace?”
All he heard was Emily crying.
“Mr. Moretti!”
“Emily?”
“They took Mom.”
Vincent stood.
“What?”
“The lights went out and a man came through the kitchen.”
“Where’s Rafael’s team?”
“I don’t know!”
Then another voice came through the line.
Male.
Calm.
Familiar.
“Vincent.”
Vincent froze.
He knew the voice.
“Uncle Anthony?”
A soft laugh.
Vincent’s uncle had been declared dead eleven years earlier.
May you like
“Come home,” Anthony Moretti said.
“And bring the phone.”
