Chapter 8
The high-tech security room in the basement of the luxury high-rise was bathed in the harsh, blue glow of dozens of surveillance monitors. Nico burst through the door, his charcoal-gray shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his polished leather shoes striking the concrete floor with frantic urgency. Arthur followed closely behind, his composed demeanor a stark contrast to Nico’s frantic energy.
"Pull up the lobby feeds!" Nico shouted at the startled head of security, leaning heavily over the main console. "Show me the last twenty minutes! Every camera, every exit!"
The security chief's fingers flew across the keyboard, bringing up a grid of high-definition camera feeds. "Boss, I have her on the service elevator camera. She bypassed the main lobby."
"Show it to me," Nico demanded, his voice strained and low.
The screen shifted, displaying a black-and-white feed of the service elevator. Nico’s heart twisted violently in his chest. There was Elena. She was wearing her worn, camel-colored wool coat, her chestnut-brown hair falling softly around her face. She was clutching her old black canvas duffel bag like a shield. But what shattered Nico completely was her face.
The camera angle clearly captured the tears streaming down her fair, rosy cheeks. Her expression was one of profound, agonizing heartbreak. She looked completely broken, yet her posture radiated a quiet, determined strength.
"She went out through the loading dock," the security chief reported, switching the feed to an exterior alley camera. "Marco let her out. She walked straight down 48th Street heading west."
Nico slammed his palm against the desk. "Why didn't Marco stop her?!"
"Because you didn't give her a reason to stay, Nico," Arthur interjected calmly from the back of the room. "Where is she heading? She left her phone and your black card in the safe. She has no digital footprint. She is completely off the grid."
Nico stared at the frozen image of Elena walking into the dark Manhattan night. His brilliant, tactical mind, usually reserved for dismantling rival mafia syndicates, raced to profile the woman he loved.
"She has cash," Nico muttered, his dark eyes darting across the map of the city displayed on the wall. "She always kept a few hundred dollars hidden in that old duffel bag for emergencies. It's not enough for a flight. And she wouldn't go to her sister's house in Brooklyn; she knows that’s the first place I would look."
"So, she's leaving the city," Arthur concluded, stepping up to the console. "She wants to disappear quickly and cheaply."
"Penn Station," Nico realized, his blood running cold. "She’s going to catch an Amtrak. She talked about a cabin upstate a year ago. A place where nobody knows my name."
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Nico turned on his heel, sprinting toward the private garage elevator. "Get the car, Arthur. We have ten minutes before the midnight express leaves for Albany. If she gets on that train, I'll never find her."
Arthur nodded, pulling his keys from his tailored deep-navy suit. The hunt was on, but Nico knew he wasn't hunting a target. He was desperately chasing his own salvation.
