Chapter 268

Christain stood in a private security operations room with his hands braced against a table, staring at a map filled with moving markers and highlighted routes.

His phone lay beside him.

Kylie’s number had been called so many times that he could no longer remember the exact count.

Every attempt had ended the same way. Unreachable.

Her last known location had been identified from a combination of street cameras, nearby businesses, and the movements of his security team.

She had gone into an alley, and she had not come out.

The footage showed a figure approaching her from behind. There was a brief struggle, mostly obscured by the angle of the camera, and then two figures disappeared beyond the building’s blind spot.

A second camera had caught a vehicle leaving several minutes later.

The registration was false. The vehicle had been found abandoned, and Kylie was nowhere.

Christian watched the footage again.

He had already memorized every visible movement, and every second in which she appeared on the screen.

He knew the moment she turned. He knew the moment the man caught her. He knew the exact instant she disappeared from view.

He watched it anyway.

"Turn it off." Adrian’s voice came from behind him.

Christian didn’t move.

"Christian."

"I heard you."

"Then turn it off."

Christian reached forward and stopped the video.

The screen froze on the empty alley.

Adrian stood across the table, his expression tight with exhaustion. He had spent the last six hours dealing with two emergencies at once: Kylie was missing, and Selena Hayes had vanished under circumstances that suggested Dante was involved.

Emilia was with him, seated near the far end of the room. She had barely spoken since the search began.

Her phone rested in both hands.

Christian looked away from the screen. "Tell me what we have."

Adrian glanced at the security team.

A man stepped forward and brought up the current tracking report.

"We’ve narrowed down two separate signal paths," he said. "Mrs. Hayes’s phone and Miss Benneth’s phone."

Christian straightened. "Both?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where?"

The man hesitated.

Christian’s gaze sharpened. "Say it."

"Mrs. Hayes’s phone is on land. We’re tracing it to a specific location, but the signal has moved between two nearby towers. We have a likely address."

"And Kylie?"

"The signal from her phone is offshore."

Silence fell over the room.

Christian stared at him.

"Offshore."

"Yes, sir." He cleared his throat. "The device is transmitting from a position consistent with a vessel at sea. We have multiple readings, but the signal is moving. We’re working to establish the vessel’s exact route."

Christian’s jaw tightened. He took a tiny breath to calm down. "How far offshore?"

"We’re still calculating the distance. The signal is intermittent."

"Then calculate faster!" He snapped.

"Christian," Adrian said quietly.

Christian turned on him. "She’s on a fucking ship. Did you hear him?"

"I heard him."

"Then why are you standing there like this is another security report?"

"I’m not."

"Because it looks like it."

Adrian didn’t rise to the bait.

That only made Christian angrier.

He looked back at the map.

A marker representing Kylie’s phone blinked over a wide stretch of water. It was not a location so much as a possibility, a rough area that could change with every new reading.

His eyes moved to the second marker.

His mind moved quickly, searching for a connection.

"Could the signals have been switched?" he asked.

"No, sir. We’ve verified both devices independently."

"Could someone have taken Mrs. Hayes’s phone without taking her?"

"Yes. We can’t confirm her physical location from the phone alone."

Christian exhaled sharply. "Then we don’t know that she’s at that address."

"No, sir."

"But we know someone took Kylie’s phone onto a vessel."

"That’s the most likely explanation."

Christian looked at Adrian. His fingers curled against the table.

"Get me every vessel that left the nearby ports in the last four hours. Private ships, commercial vessels, cargo ships. I don’t care how insignificant they seem. I want names, ownership records, crew lists, routes, and every camera recording we can get."

"Already underway," the security chief replied.

"Expand the search."

"Christian," Adrian said, "we need to be careful. If whoever took her knows we’re tracing the phone, they may discard it."

"Then we find the ship before they do."

"And if the ship isn’t registered?"

"Then we find out who paid for it."

Christian’s voice was cold now. He turned to the security chief.

"Call every contact you have at the ports. Tell them a woman has been abducted. I want eyes on every vessel matching the last known signal path."

"Yes, sir."

"And no one boards anything without coordinating with us. If she’s on that ship, I want her alive when we get there."

The man nodded and moved away.

Christian picked up his phone again.

Kylie’s contact photo filled the screen.

She was laughing in the picture, her head tipped back, blue eyes almost closed. She had stolen his sunglasses and was wearing them crookedly across her face.

He remembered taking the photograph.

His thumb hovered over her name.

He pressed call. The line rang once before the automated message began.

Christian ended the call.

For a moment, he simply stood there.

Then he placed the phone facedown on the table.

"I want the direct point," he said. "Not possibilities, or assumptions. The truth."

.....

On the ship, Kylie had begun counting the minutes.

She had no clock, and the narrow window offered little indication of the time. She had tried measuring the intervals between the footsteps outside her door, but the movements were too irregular to be useful.

Each time, she went to the door and listened. Each time, the voices faded before she could make out more than a few words.

She sat with her back against the wall, knees drawn towards her chest.

Her upper arm still hurt.

She had examined it several times, finding a small, angry mark where the device had touched her skin. It was tender, but she could move her fingers and bend her elbow.

She had also checked herself for other injuries.

Her stomach hurt where the man’s knee had struck her. Her cheek was sore from the slap, and she could feel the beginnings of a headache.

Nothing seemed broken.

A few minutes later, she heard footsteps approaching.

Kylie immediately stood.

The lock clicked, and the door opened.

A different man entered carrying a tray.

He was older than Noah’s uncle, with close-cropped hair and a face that seemed permanently unimpressed.

He placed the tray on the bedside table. "Eat."

Kylie stared at him. "Where am I?"

He ignored the question.

"What is this place?"

He turned towards the door.

Kylie moved before he could leave. "Wait."

He paused.

She swallowed. "Please."

The word tasted strange.

Not because she was ashamed of saying it, but because she had no idea what it might buy her.

The man looked at her. "Please, what?"

"Tell me why I’m here."

He studied her for a moment. Then he said, "You should eat."

"I don’t want food."

"Then don’t eat."

He stepped outside.

Kylie lunged for the door, but he was faster. He pulled it shut before she reached him.

The lock turned.

She stood there, breathing hard, staring at the door. Then she kicked it.

"Open the fucking door!"

Her voice echoed through the room.

She hit it with her palm. "Open it, you emotional bankrupt asshole!"

She got nothing in response.

She pressed her forehead against the cool surface.

For one terrible second, she was eight years old again. In the helplessness.

In the realization that someone else had decided what happened to her, and that her fear might not be enough to make them stop.

Kylie jerked away from the door. She wiped her face angrily. "No, no, no."

She would not let the memory swallow her whole. She was not that little girl anymore.

She had survived things that should never have happened to her. She had built a life around the pieces that remained. She had learned to laugh loudly, love fiercely, and walk away from people who wanted her to believe she was less than she was.

Kylie turned towards the tray.

There was a plate of rice, a small portion of chicken, and a bottle of water.

She stared at the food. Then she picked up the bottle and drank. Her mouth was dry, and her head hurt. She needed her strength.

She ate a few bites of rice, barely tasting them, then set the plate aside.

Afterward, she searched the room again.

This time, she wasn’t looking for an obvious weapon or an unlocked window.

The wardrobe remained empty. The bedside table had no drawers. The bed frame was fixed to the floor.

Everything was useless.