Chapter 2 - The chase in the winter
Calder did not flinch. He did not push the crying child away. Instead, a terrifyingly calm, protective instinct surged through his veins. He looked over the little girl’s head, his intense gaze locking onto his lieutenant.
Marco was already moving.
Calder effortlessly scooped Emma into his left arm. She was impossibly light, shivering violently inside her oversized brown coat. She buried her rosy, tear-stained face into the crook of his neck, trusting the imposing stranger with an instinct that defied logic. Calder wrapped his long black overcoat around her small frame to block out the cold, turning toward the door.
Within seconds, Calder and his men stepped out into the freezing wind. Three massive, armored black SUVs sat idling at the curb. Calder climbed into the back of the lead vehicle, setting Emma gently onto the plush leather seat beside him.
The heavy doors slammed shut, and the convoy accelerated into the city traffic, the powerful engines roaring as they tracked the path of the fleeing sedan.
Emma sat perfectly still, her small hands clutching the edge of the leather seat. She looked at the men in the front—tall, expressionless professionals with earpieces and dark coats—and then up at the rugged, handsome man sitting next to her.
Calder unbuttoned his suit jacket, his presence exuding a deep, unwavering safety. He pulled a warm cashmere blanket from a hidden compartment and draped it gently over Emma’s shoulders.
“You are safe now,” Calder stated, his voice a low, commanding rumble that left no room for doubt. “What is your mother’s name?”
“Sarah,” Emma whispered, her wide eyes searching his face. “She told me to run into the store and not look back. She said she would be right behind me. But the men grabbed her.”
Calder’s jaw tightened, the light stubble on his chin shifting as he processed the information. In his world, random kidnappings did not happen in broad daylight. This was a targeted, professional extraction.
Marco spoke from the front passenger seat, monitoring a tracking tablet. “Boss, city traffic cameras picked up the sedan’s plates. It’s a ghost car. Registered to a shell corporation tied to the northern shipping yards. The Vance family territory.”
Calder’s dark eyes turned to ice. The Vance syndicate was a ruthless, volatile faction that he had kept at bay for years through sheer intimidation. If they were snatching women off the streets in his territory, it was an act of war.
The radio crackled. The trailing SUV reported finding the black sedan abandoned in a narrow industrial alleyway ten blocks away. The trail had gone cold. They had swapped vehicles.
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Calder looked down at the six-year-old girl. She was fighting a losing battle against exhaustion, her small eyelids drooping heavily. He noticed that she was still gripping her oversized brown coat tightly around her waist, refusing to let the thick fabric slip.
“Marco,” Calder commanded quietly, his tone absolute. “Take us to the estate. Lock down the perimeter. No one breathes in this city without my permission until we find out exactly who this child belongs to.”
