Chapter 5 - Breaking the ChainThe heavy steel door at the back of the warehouse creaked open, and a second man dragged a figure into the harsh circle of light.
It was the woman in the teal wool coat. Her hair was disheveled, her silk scarf torn, and her hands were bound behind her back with heavy zip-ties. A strip of gray duct tape was plastered across her mouth. When she saw Frederick standing across the concrete floor, her eyes widened in a mixture of terror and desperate hope.
“Minnie!” Frederick murmured mentally, recognizing the features instantly. It was Kylie’s mother, Sarah.
“Untie her hands,” Frederick ordered, his tone leaving no room for debate.
Vance nodded to his henchman. “Cut her loose, Tommy. Let the man inspect his merchandise.”
Tommy stepped forward with a hunting knife, sawing roughly through the plastic ties around Sarah’s wrists. As the restraints fell away, Sarah immediately ripped the tape from her mouth, gasping for air, and stumbled forward before catching her balance against a wooden crate.
“You... you’re the man from the airport,” Sarah breathed, her voice shaking violently as she rubbed her raw wrists. “Kylie... where is Kylie? Is my baby safe?!”
“She’s safe,” Frederick said, keeping his eyes locked on Vance. “She’s sitting in a warm car with a blanket and a box of crayons. She’s waiting for her mother.”
Sarah let out a choked sob, tears spilling over her cheeks. “Thank God... oh, thank God...”
“Alright, Castiano,” Vance interrupted, holding out his open palm impatiently. “Enough family reunions. Let’s see the transfer routing codes. Phone out, slow and easy.”
Frederick slowly reached into his inner coat pocket.
Vance grinned, watching him with predatory triumph. “You know, for a crime lord, you’re remarkably easy to rob. All it took was grabbing some random tourist from Terminal B and—”
“Random tourist?” Frederick interrupted softly.
Vance blinked. “What?”
“You think I tracked you across the city simply because you snatched a random tourist?” Frederick’s lips parted in a cold, humorless smile. “Vance... do you really believe my security detail is so incompetent that we let random civilians walk into the crosshairs of an inter-syndicate war?”
Vance’s smile faltered. The shotgun drifted back up. “What are you talking about?”
“Sarah isn't a tourist,” Frederick said, pulling his hand out of his coat—not holding a phone, but clutching a heavy tactical remote detonator. “She’s the chief forensic accountant for the federal anti-racketeering task force. And the moment your men grabbed her in Terminal B, my network automatically uploaded every encrypted communication on your burner phones straight to a federal grand jury server in downtown Manhattan.”
The warehouse went dead silent. The fluorescent light buzzed, then popped, plunging the far corners into shadow.
Vance’s face drained of all color. “You... you set us up!”
“No,” Frederick said calmly, his thumb resting over the red toggle switch. “You set yourselves up the moment you thought children and mothers were acceptable collateral in your war.”
Before Vance could raise the shotgun, the heavy front doors of the warehouse blew inward with an ear-splitting crash. Flashbang grenades sailed through the frosty air, detonating in blinding white flashes and deafening roars that echoed off the metal rafters.
“Federal agents! Drop your weapons! Down on the ground!” Marco’s voice roared through a tactical megaphone, backed by a dozen armed operatives pouring in from the snow-swept perimeter.
Chaos erupted in an instant. Vance spun around wildly, trying to raise his weapon, but a clean, precise shot from Marco’s rifle shattered the stock of the shotgun, sending splinters flying. Tommy and the second henchman dropped their weapons immediately, throwing their hands behind their heads as tactical boots swarmed over the concrete.
Within thirty seconds, it was over. Vance and his crew were face-down in the frozen mud and grit, handcuffed and subdued.
Sarah stood shaking near the wooden crate, staring in stunned disbelief at the sudden transformation of the room.
Frederick walked over to her, removing his heavy overcoat and draping it gently around her shivering shoulders.
“Can you walk?” Frederick asked quietly.
May you like
Sarah looked up at him, tears streaming down her face, and managed a brave, trembling nod. “My... my legs are shaking, but yes. I want my daughter.”
“Come on,” Frederick said, offering her a steady hand. “Let’s go home.”
