Amara’s hands trembled as she clutched her phone.
The moment Nick’s broken voice told her that Vaughn had been kidnapped, it felt as though the ground beneath her had vanished.
The world around her blurred, and her breath hitched in her throat.
She couldn’t think.. could barely stand. Vaughn… her son… her baby boy was gone.
Her legs felt like jelly, barely supporting her as she stumbled out of the study room.
Each step felt heavy, as if an unseen force was weighing her down.
Her head swam, and her heart pounded painfully against her ribcage.
She had to move, had to get outside, had to do something.. anything… to get her son back.
As she reached the corridor, her father, Vincent, and Lucas crossed her path. They immediately noticed the dread etched into her face, the way her body seemed to sway with shock.
Vincent’s brows furrowed in concern. “Amara, what’s wrong?”
Amara’s mouth opened, but no words came. Her voice failed her, and the weight of the terror in her chest suffocated her.
Her lips trembled as she tried to form the words. “Dad.. Vaughn…”
Vincent stepped closer, his expression shifting from concern to alarm. “Amara, what happened to Vaughn?” His voice was tense, urgent.
Finally, she forced the words out, her voice shaking. “Dad… Vaughn… he’s been kidnapped…”
Vincent froze for a split second, the shock registering in his eyes before quickly turning to cold, hardened resolve.
He glanced at Lucas, who was already alert, his muscles taut with tension.
“Get the car ready,” Vincent ordered, his tone low and deadly serious.
Lucas nodded sharply and rushed out, but Vincent didn’t turn away from Amara. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, his eyes locking onto hers. “We will find him, Amara. I promise.”
Amara swallowed hard, nodding despite the dread that was clawing its way up her throat.
Her father’s words barely pierced through the thick fog of terror clouding her mind.
How could she feel anything other than raw panic when her son was missing?
The car ride to the location Nick had mentioned felt agonizingly slow, though in reality, they had sped through the streets.
Amara stared out of the window, her fingers digging into her palms. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, her thoughts spiraling into worst-case scenarios.
What if Vaughn was hurt?
What if he was scared, crying for her?
The thought twisted like a knife in her chest.
When they finally arrived, Amara didn’t wait for the car to fully stop before throwing the door open and rushing toward the wrecked vehicle.
Her heart dropped to her stomach at the sight of it. The car was riddled with bullet holes, the windows shattered, and the tires blown out.
“God, no…” Amara whispered, her voice barely audible as she stumbled toward the scene.
An ominous feeling bloomed inside her, its dark tendrils gripping her tightly.
Nick lay slumped in the driver’s seat, unconscious.
Blood stained his clothes, his face pale, but he was breathing. Barely. Lucas hurriedly dragged him out of the car, checking his pulse.
“He’s alive,” Lucas muttered, though his face was grim. “We need to get him to a hospital.”
Amara wanted to scream, to demand answers, but she knew Nick couldn’t tell her anything in his current state.
With no choice but to wait, she followed as they rushed him to the nearest hospital.
Every second felt like a knife twisting deeper into her gut, her mind racing with questions, with fear.
Who took Vaughn?
Why?
Was he still safe?
She clung to the hope that Nick would wake up with answers, praying to whoever would listen that Vaughn wasn’t in pain.
When Nick finally stirred an hour later, Amara was out of her seat before she even realized it.
Her entire body trembled with barely contained desperation. But before she could reach him, her father stepped in front of her, gently holding her back.
“Let me talk to him first,” Vincent said softly, though there was an underlying authority in his voice.
Amara looked at him, confused and impatient, but she nodded reluctantly.
She knew her father was right. If she bombarded Nick with questions now, she might not get the answers she needed.
Vincent approached Nick’s bedside, his eyes steely. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice calm but firm.
Nick groaned softly, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch his bandaged shoulder.
His face was pale, and his eyes fluttered open, pain and exhaustion clouding them. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I failed… I couldn’t protect him…”
Vincent shook his head, his expression hardening. “This isn’t your fault, Nick. Just tell me what you know.”
Amara couldn’t take it anymore. She stepped forward, her voice shaking with barely contained terror. “Nick… where did they take him?”
Nick’s eyes flicked toward her, guilt and regret written all over his face. “I don’t know, Miss Amara. I tried to stop them, but they… they headed toward Street Seven…”
Street Seven.
The words echoed in Amara’s mind like a death knell.
It wasn’t a residential area..
It was a marketplace, crowded, chaotic.
The perfect place for someone to disappear.
She nodded, trying to steady her trembling hands. They had a lead, but it wasn’t much.
“Lucas, let’s go,” Amara said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Vincent didn’t protest. He gave her a firm nod, his expression set. “We’ll find him. Stay sharp.”
The drive to Street Seven was agonizing. Every minute felt like a lifetime.
The marketplace was bustling when they arrived, vendors shouting, people walking the narrow streets, unaware of the nightmare unfolding in Amara’s life.
Her heart pounded in her chest as Lucas brought the car to a stop.
But Street Seven wasn’t an easy place to track someone.
It was chaotic, a labyrinth of shops and alleys, with no clear direction.
Amara’s eyes scanned the area, her heart racing. There had to be cameras or something that could give them a clue.
“Do you see any CCTV cameras?” Amara asked, her voice urgent.
Lucas shook his head. “There’s one at the next intersection, but that’s two kilometers away.”
Amara bit her lip, her anxiety reaching a boiling point.
Every moment they wasted, Vaughn slipped further away. “We don’t have a choice,” she muttered, her frustration boiling over.
They drove toward the nearest intersection, where a public CCTV camera overlooked the street. But even then, it was a long shot.
Amara’s mind raced with thoughts of Vaughn.
No ransom call, no demand.
That was what terrified her the most.
If this had been a simple kidnapping for money, there would have been communication by now.
But the silence..
It gnawed at her, twisting her stomach into knots.
They finally arrived at the intersection. Amara’s eyes darted around, searching for any sign of the kidnappers. But the streets were crowded, and the camera angle was limited.
Lucas got out, heading into a nearby store to ask about the footage. Amara stayed in the car, her fingers tapping anxiously against the armrest.
Her heart was in her throat, each second ticking by agonizingly slow.
“What are they waiting for?” she whispered to herself.
Her son was out there, alone, scared. And she couldn’t do anything but wait.
Lucas returned, a grim look on his face. “We’ll have access to the footage, but it’ll take time.”
Time.
The one thing they didn’t have.
Amara slammed her fist into the seat, frustration boiling over. “We’re wasting time, Lucas! He’s out there, and we’re sitting here doing nothing!”
Lucas’s eyes softened, but his voice remained steady. “We’re doing everything we can. We’ll find him Miss.”
But the words did little to soothe her.
Deep down, Amara knew that every passing moment meant Vaughn was slipping further out of her reach.
She closed her eyes, her mind racing with images of her son.. his small, scared face, his cries for help echoing in her mind.
She wouldn’t let them take him. She couldn’t.
Vaughn was her everything.
And she would tear apart the city, brick by brick, if that’s what it took to bring him home.