Chapter 128 Chapter 128

Chapter 128 Chapter 128
Chapter 128

The helicopter tore through the night sky, its blades cutting the air with a roar so loud it vibrated through Landon’s bones. The sound was relentless, urgent, impossible to ignore. Below them, darkness stretched endlessly, broken only by scattered lights far in the distance.

Landon sat inside the aircraft, surrounded by a tactical team of ten men. They were the best money could buy. Former special forces, trained for rescue missions, hostage situations, and high-risk extractions. Every man was armed. Every face was hard with focus.

This was what they were trained for.

This was what he needed them for.

Across from him, Noah checked his weapon again, calm but deadly serious. His younger brother had insisted on coming. Brothers until the end. Landon would not argue with that.

Thomas had stayed behind at the mansion, coordinating everything from there. He was too old for field combat, but his mind was sharp, and his voice guided them through their headsets. Backup teams were standing by if things went wrong.

Things already felt wrong.

“Two minutes to target,” the pilot said through the comms, his voice steady despite the tension filling the aircraft.

Landon tightened his grip on his weapon and checked it again. He had already checked it several times, but his hands needed something to do. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might break free from his chest.

Get Sienna out alive.

That was the only thought in his mind.

Marcus, the team leader, looked around at his men. “Priority one is the hostage. Mrs. Callahan comes out first. No risks with her life. Everything else comes second.”

Everyone nodded. No questions. No hesitation.

The helicopter began to circle the house below them. It was old, isolated, and half-rotting, just as Kelvin had described. The roof sagged in places. Windows were boarded up. It looked abandoned, forgotten by the world.

A perfect place to hide someone.

A perfect place to torture someone.

Landon spotted faint flickers of light inside. Candles, maybe. That meant someone was there. That meant Sienna could still be alive.

“Thirty seconds,” the pilot announced.

The aircraft descended quickly, landing at a safe distance from the house. The doors slid open, and cold night air rushed in. The team moved fast, boots hitting the ground in perfect coordination.

Weapons up. Night vision on.

Landon followed closely behind, Noah at his side. He could not stay back. He could not wait. Every second mattered.

They spread out, surrounding the building, cutting off all escape routes. Marcus raised his hand near the front door, signaling for silence. The team froze, waiting for his count.

Three.

Two.

One.

The explosion came without warning.

A violent blast tore through the night, throwing men backward like broken dolls. Light flashed so bright it burned Landon’s eyes. Heat slammed into his body, knocking the breath from his lungs.

The ground rushed up to meet him.

A trap.

Isabella had known they would come.

Landon hit the dirt hard, his ears ringing, the world reduced to a high-pitched scream. Smoke filled the air. Dust and debris rained down around him.

Men screamed.

Pain echoed everywhere.

Two of the team lay motionless on the ground, blood pooling beneath them, dark and spreading. Three more were injured, clutching their bodies, shrapnel embedded in flesh.

Landon forced himself up, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder. His vision swam, but he pushed through it.

“Sienna!” he shouted, his voice raw.

Noah was down beside him but moving. Alive. Thank God, he was alive.

Marcus staggered to his feet, blood running down his forehead from a cut above his eye. He wiped it away and took command.

“Regroup,” he ordered. “Medic, help the wounded. Everyone else, with me.”

Only five men remained standing.

Half the team gone in seconds.

But they could not stop.

They approached the house again, slower now, scanning for more traps. The front door hung off its hinges from the blast.

Too easy.

Marcus entered first, clearing the room. It was empty, filled only with rubble and dust.

Landon followed, his heart hammering. Every step felt heavier than the last.

They moved room by room. Kitchen. Empty. Bedroom. Empty. Bathroom. Empty.

Something was wrong.

Then they reached the last room at the back of the house. The door was locked from the outside.

Landon’s chest tightened.

This had to be it.

Marcus kicked the door open. Wood splintered, and the lock snapped.

Landon rushed in.

A metal chair sat in the center of the room. Ropes hung loosely from it, cut and frayed.

Empty.

The room was silent.

No Sienna.

No Isabella.

Nothing.

“No,” Landon whispered, his voice barely sound.

He stepped toward the chair, his legs unsteady. He touched the ropes. They were still warm.

She had been there.

Minutes ago.

A sound tore from his throat as he grabbed the chair and hurled it across the room. It crashed into the wall, breaking apart.

“She was here,” he shouted, his voice breaking. “She was right here. We were too late.”

Noah approached slowly, his eyes full of worry. “We will find them. She cannot be far.”

Landon turned on him, fury and despair burning in his eyes. “We had the location. We came as fast as possible. And she is still gone.”

He slammed his fist into the wall. Pain exploded through his hand, but he welcomed it.

“This is my fault,” he said, his voice cracking. “I should have been faster. I should have saved her.”

He dropped to his knees beside the broken chair, clutching a piece of rope to his chest.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I failed you. I failed our baby.”

Tears fell freely now. He did not try to stop them.

Noah knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, saying nothing.

Marcus searched the room carefully. Then he stopped.

“Sir,” he said quietly. “You need to see this.”

Landon looked up.

Marcus held out a photograph.

It showed Sienna tied to the chair, her face bruised and bloodied, fear and pain clear in her eyes. A note was attached.

“So close, Landon. But not close enough. She is mine now.”

Landon’s hands shook as he took the photo.

“I will find you,” he whispered. “I swear it.”

Outside, medics worked on the wounded. The helicopter waited to carry them away.

Landon walked out of the house, the photo clutched in his hand.

The sky above was dark and empty.

And somewhere out there, Isabella was still winning.

For now.