Chapter 9
Vance immediately pulled a sharp combat knife from his belt and sliced through the thick zip-ties binding the woman’s wrists. She rubbed her arms, shivering violently in the cool air of the kitchen.
"Did they say anything?" Damian pressed, his rugged face entirely focused. "Did they mention a destination, a name, or a safehouse? Give me anything you can."
The foster mother shook her head frantically, trying to process the trauma. "No! They just grabbed him. He was screaming for me. But... wait. One of the men, the leader... he took a phone call right before they left. He was yelling at whoever was on the other end."
"What did he say?" Damian asked, his broad chest rising with suppressed anticipation.
"He said the boy was secured," the woman stammered, pointing a trembling finger toward the broken front door. "And then he said they were taking him to the old shipping yards on the east river. He said they needed to use the incinerator building to make sure there was no evidence left behind."
The air in the kitchen turned instantly lethal. Damian’s eyes darkened into a terrifying shade of absolute, unforgiving fury. The incinerator building. Celeste's men weren't just going to kill his son; they were going to erase him from existence entirely.
"Stay here," Damian told the woman, his voice radiating a chilling, absolute certainty. "My men will stay with you until the police arrive. You are safe now."
Damian turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, his black tuxedo whipping around his powerful frame. "Vance! Leave two men to guard the house. Everyone else back in the trucks. We are hitting the east river shipping yards."
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"Boss, the shipping yards are a fortress," Vance warned as they sprinted back out into the rain. "The Sterling faction owns the local security there. We will be outnumbered three to one."
"I don't care if there is an entire army standing in front of that building," Damian growled, throwing himself into the back of the armored SUV. "No one touches my blood and lives."
