Chapter 7: The Father's Fear

POV: Marcus

The coffee mug shattered against my office wall.

"Three days!" I shouted at the empty room. "My daughter has been missing for three days and you people have nothing!"

Detective Martinez stood in the doorway, his face grim. He'd been working around the clock since Scarlett disappeared, but working wasn't enough. Not when every hour meant she could be dead.

"Sir, we're doing everything we can."

"Everything?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "My baby girl is somewhere in this city, probably scared out of her mind, and you tell me we're doing everything?"

I walked to the window and stared out at Chicago. Somewhere in those streets, my daughter was hiding. Or worse.

Twenty-two years of keeping her safe. Twenty-two years of fake names and hidden addresses and bedtime stories about why Daddy couldn't come to school plays.

All destroyed in one night.

"The phone call was the last contact," Martinez said quietly. "She said three men were chasing her. After that, nothing."

I closed my eyes and heard her voice again. Scared. Desperate. Calling for help that never came in time.

"You tracked her phone?"

"Dead. Turned off or destroyed after she called."

Smart girl. I'd trained her well. Too well, maybe.

My phone buzzed. Text message from an unknown number.

"We have your daughter. Ten million dollars or she dies."

My hands shook as I showed Martinez the screen.

"Trace it," I ordered.

"Already trying. But sir..." Martinez hesitated. "This doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean?"

"Ten million is a lot of money. But if someone really wanted to hurt you, they wouldn't ask for cash. They'd just kill her and send you the body."

He was right, and we both knew it. In my twenty-five years with the FBI, I'd seen what real revenge looked like. This felt different.

"Maybe they want the money more than they want me dead," I said.

"Or maybe someone's trying to keep her alive."

Before I could answer, another text came through.

"She's safe for now. Pay up or find out how much pain one person can take."

Ice filled my veins. Someone was threatening to torture my little girl.

"Get the money," I told Martinez.

"Sir, we can't—"

"Get the damn money!" I slammed my fist on the desk. "Whatever it takes. Rob a bank if you have to."

Martinez nodded and left to make calls. I sat down and put my head in my hands.

Twenty-two years ago, I'd held Scarlett in the hospital nursery and promised I'd always protect her. Her mother had died giving birth, leaving just the two of us against the world.

"I'll keep you safe, baby girl," I'd whispered. "No matter what."

I'd kept that promise by hiding her from my work. By creating Sarah Miller and letting my real daughter live a normal life away from the violence and danger of my job.

But normal hadn't been enough. My enemies had found her anyway.

My office door opened. Agent Sarah Walsh walked in carrying a thick file.

"What do you have?" I asked.

"Bad news and worse news."

"Give me the bad news first."

"The attack on her apartment wasn't random. Professional hitters. Military-grade weapons. Someone paid a lot of money to take her alive."

"And the worse news?"

"We know who they sent."

She opened the file and showed me photos. Three men in black suits. All of them had criminal records longer than my arm.

"Rico Valdez," Walsh said, pointing to the leader. "Professional killer. Specializes in kidnapping and torture."

My stomach turned. Rico was known for keeping his victims alive for days while he worked on them.

"Where is he now?"

"Dead. Someone killed him and his team last night."

Relief flooded through me. If Rico was dead, maybe Scarlett had escaped.

"Who killed them?"

"That's where things get complicated."

Walsh pulled out more photos. Security camera shots from the diner where the attack happened.

"Someone on a motorcycle intervened. Saved your daughter and killed all three attackers."

"Good Samaritan?"

"Not exactly."

She showed me a clearer photo. A man in black leather getting off his bike.

My heart stopped.

I knew that face. I'd been hunting that face for five years.

"Vincent Capone," I whispered.

"The heir to the biggest crime family in Chicago. Son of Anthony 'The Bull' Capone. Killer, drug dealer, and all-around bad guy."

"He saved Scarlett?"

"Looks that way. But sir..." Walsh hesitated. "Vincent Capone doesn't save people. He kills them."

"Then why"

"We don't know. Maybe he wants the bounty for himself. Maybe he's planning something worse."

I stared at the photo of Vincent Capone. Dark hair, cold eyes, and the kind of face that belonged on wanted posters.

This was the man who had my daughter.

"Any word from the Capone family?" I asked.

"Nothing official. But our informants say there's been a lot of activity in their territory. Meetings. Phone calls. Something big is happening."

"Find out what."

"Already working on it. But Marcus..." Walsh rarely used my first name. When she did, it meant she was about to say something I didn't want to hear. "Vincent Capone isn't known for keeping prisoners. If he has Scarlett..."

"He what?"

"He either plans to use her for something, or she's already dead."

The room started spinning. I gripped the edge of my desk to stay upright.

"She's not dead," I said firmly. "I'd know if she was dead."

"How?"

"Because she's my daughter. Because I raised her to be a fighter. Because she's too stubborn to die."

Walsh nodded, but I could see the doubt in her eyes.

Another agent knocked and entered. Agent Thompson, young and eager and always bringing bad news.

"Sir, we have an update on the apartment search."

"What did you find?"

Thompson's face was pale. "Blood, sir. A lot of it."

The words hit me like bullets. "Scarlett's blood?"

"We're running tests. But there's something else."

"What?"

"The neighbors reported seeing Vincent Capone in the area that night. Multiple witnesses put him at the scene right around the time your daughter disappeared."

I stared at Thompson, trying to process what he was telling me.

Vincent Capone had been at Scarlett's apartment. There was blood everywhere. And my daughter was missing.

"Sir," Thompson continued, his voice barely a whisper, "we found blood at her apartment. And Vincent Capone was seen in the area."

The room went silent except for the sound of my heart breaking.