Chapter 305

Chapter 305
Lucas didn’t waste time when Damian stormed into the security wing of the estate.
He took one look at Damian’s face and immediately understood:
This was not a discussion.
This was a war declaration.
“Inside,” Damian ordered.
Lucas opened the reinforced steel door to his underground tracking office — the room where all surveillance, intel, and security feeds were monitored. Screens covered the walls, each showing different angles of the estate gates, neighboring roads, city CCTV feeds, and satellite pings.
The moment the door shut behind them, Damian threw the crumpled banner onto the table.
Lucas picked it up, unfolded it… and froze.
“Is this—”
“Yes,” Damian cut in, voice cold. “It’s Sia.”
Lucas’s jaw clenched. “The same girl Serene found?”
“My daughter,” Damian said with a deadly calm. “And those men are hunting her.”
Lucas swore under his breath. He tossed the banner aside, switched on several monitors, and began typing. Damian stood beside him, stiff, silent, simmering.
“What do you know so far?” Lucas asked.
“Nothing,” Damian answered. “That’s the problem.”
Lucas nodded and pulled up the estate’s external CCTV archives from the past three days.
On the largest screen, the footage popped up — showing the same three men entering the estate gates, talking to guards, showing the banner… searching.
“They were back again this morning,” Damian said. “They stopped me. Asked about her.”
Lucas turned sharply. “They approached you directly?”
“Yes.”
Lucas stared at him. “Did they recognize you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Damian snapped. “They were bold enough to hunt here. They’re organized, trained, and not afraid of being seen. Find out who they are.”
Lucas nodded, fingers flying over the keyboard.
“Let me isolate their faces,” he said. He zoomed in on the three men, pausing on each one.
Damian’s eyes hardened.
He studied the men like prey.
Lucas ran the faces through the database — local records, international databases, airport logs.
“No matches so far,” Lucas muttered. “Whoever they are, they’re not regular criminals.”
Damian’s jaw flexed. “Check private institutions. Private adoption networks. Underground transport groups.”
Lucas typed. “You think they’re part of a trafficking chain?”
“I think,” Damian said slowly, “that someone has been moving my daughter from home to home like she’s property.”
Lucas’s fingers paused.
“And now,” Damian continued, voice going colder, “they want to take her again.”
Lucas resumed typing faster.
The monitors blinked as new data flooded in.
Vehicle plate scans.
Estate visitor logs.
Street cameras.
Bank surveillance.
Lucas rewound footage from outside the estate — captured by a public CCTV pole.
“There,” he said.
The screen zoomed on the men entering a car — a black SUV with tinted windows.
License plate:
NTX-4G12
Lucas typed the plate into the city traffic database.
Hit.
A red mark flashed.
“Found it,” Lucas muttered. “This car’s been flagged before.”
“For what?” Damian demanded.
Lucas clicked the file.
A list opened:
— Suspicious movement across state lines
— Associated with multiple short-term foster transfers
— Reported near international adoption centers
— Never registered to a real name
— Possibly linked to child placement networks
Damian’s hands curled into fists.
Lucas looked at him slowly.
“This isn’t normal.”
“No,” Damian said. “It’s organized.”
Lucas clicked again.
A second screen lit up — pulling GPS tracking from the estate perimeter.
“Damian…” Lucas whispered.
“What?”
Lucas zoomed in on a dot blinking across the map.
“That same SUV… returned to the estate area last night. Parked across the street.”
Damian moved closer.
Breathing harder.
The playback showed the SUV sitting in darkness for twenty minutes, engine off, before leaving again.
“They were watching the neighborhood,” Lucas said. “Possibly waiting for her to come out.”
Damian’s chest rose and fell sharply.
“What else?” he forced himself to ask.
Lucas clicked another feed.
The SUV popped up again — driving slowly down the main road at 5 a.m., circling twice.
“They’ve been here twice today,” Lucas said. “Once while you left, once before dawn.”
Damian’s voice lowered dangerously.
“They’re closing in.”
Lucas didn’t deny it.
“Damian,” he said quietly, “someone wants this girl badly.”
Damian’s eyes sharpened.
“She is my daughter.”
Lucas swallowed.
“And they want to take her,” Damian said, voice flat, deadly. “They want to take what’s mine. What Layla died trying to hide.”
Lucas turned his chair. “What’s the plan?”
Damian leaned forward, both hands on the table.
“Track everything. Every plate. Every movement. Every camera they pass.”
Lucas nodded.
“Double security around the house,” Damian continued. “New guards. Night and day shifts. I want eyes on every corner.”
“Done.”
“And Lucas?”
Lucas looked up. “Yeah?”
“If they step into this neighborhood again…”
Damian’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper:
“Call me. Not the police. Not the estate. Me.”
Lucas nodded once — slow and firm.
Damian straightened, cold fury burning through him.
“Because this time,” he said, “I’m the one who’s coming for them.”
Lucas didn’t argue.
He only said:
“Then I’ll make sure we find them first.”
Damian turned toward the door, pausing only once.
He looked back at the blinking cameras and the captured image of the SUV.
“Keep watching,” he said. “Don’t blink.”
Lucas nodded.
And Damian left the room with murder in his eyes.