Chapter 12
Rationality barely held. Juliana forced herself to swallow the words threatening to spill out.
Lucas found himself speechless, completely blocked by what she'd said.
In the end, despite the insanity of it, Robert approved the plan at Juliana's insistence.
Juliana shed her coat, dressed only in lightweight black clothing, and silently slipped into the cold, narrow ventilation duct. Relying on memory and her sense of direction, she crawled inch by inch toward the depths of the warehouse.
Inside that warehouse, the atmosphere was equally tense.
"Damn it, what the hell did Bianca mean? She said to keep one—which one is Damian?" One kidnapper irritably kicked an empty bottle across the floor.
The other tried to calm him down. "Forget it. They look exactly the same anyway. The Sharp family's loaded—we'll just hand over whichever one. How are they gonna tell the difference?"
While they argued, Matthew—tied to the column—used a shard of glass he'd been scraping against the floor to slowly saw through the rope binding Damian's wrists.
Damian bit down hard on his lip, refusing to make a sound.
Finally—snap. The rope broke.
Damian's hands were free.
Matthew immediately shot him a meaningful look. Damian understood instantly and started working on his brother's bindings.
"Hey! What's that kid doing?!"
One of the kidnappers' sharp eyes caught the movement. He grabbed his gun and started toward them.
Just then, the small side door of the warehouse burst open. Their lookout rushed in, panicked. "We got a problem! Cops everywhere outside!"
Both kidnappers' faces changed.
"Shit! They found us!"
"What do we do? We haven't gotten the money yet!"
"Forget it! Grab the hostages and make a run for it!"
The moment one kidnapper finished speaking, he realized only one child remained tied to the column.
"Where's the other one?!"
One kidnapper, furious now, barked orders. "You—find him! I'll watch this one!"
The kidnapper cursed under his breath, gun in hand, and headed toward the cargo boxes.
The second he showed himself, he was staring down the barrel of a SWAT rifle.
"Freeze! Drop your weapon!"
The kidnapper's mind went blank. Instinct took over—he raised his gun and fired.
The response was swift—a precise shot from the SWAT team.
The kidnapper dropped.
Inside the warehouse, the last remaining kidnapper saw his partner killed and completely lost it. That's when Bianca's call came through.
The kidnapper glanced at the caller ID, hesitated, then answered.
"Listen to me—that bitch Juliana is there too! She's good at tricks, watch out—she might come through the ventilation ducts..."
The kidnapper's eyes snapped to the vent overhead.
Juliana's heart plummeted.
The kidnapper's gaze locked directly onto hers. A vicious grin spread across his face as he swung his gun around, aiming straight at Juliana.
Two shots rang out, almost simultaneously.
A bullet hole appeared between the kidnapper's eyes. He collapsed, hitting the ground like a felled tree.
And Juliana—she felt searing pain explode through her left shoulder. The bullet's massive impact threw her backward. Her forehead cracked hard against the cold metal frame.
"Juliana!"
Lucas charged in without a second thought, catching her through the choking dust and acrid smell of gunpowder.
The woman lay unconscious in his arms, eyes closed.
Outside, the air was freezing. Matthew had barely taken two steps when a hand shot out from the darkness, clamping over his mouth.
Matthew struggled desperately.
"Don't move. It's Mommy." A hushed female voice spoke near his ear.
Before he could process it, a powerful force dragged him into a van parked in the shadows.
"Had to do everything myself." Bianca stared at the face identical to Damian's. "Good thing I came personally. Dami, are you okay?"
This woman knew Damian?
Matthew froze.
Damian had finally worked himself free from the ropes. A black sedan was about to pull away—it was the driver, Paul.
Without thinking, Damian ran around to the other side, yanked the door open, and dove inside, curling himself into a ball on the back floor mat, barely daring to breathe.
Paul, waiting for Juliana, caught a glimpse of a dark shape in his rearview mirror and jumped. He turned around, saw it was Damian, and immediately brightened with relief.
"Matty! What are you doing here?! Thank God!"
Damian buried his head against his knees, saying nothing.
Paul figured the poor kid was traumatized, sighed, and quickly drove them home.
Central Hospital.
Lucas burst through the emergency room doors with Juliana in his arms.
"Get the best surgeons in this hospital! All resources—spare no expense!"
Juliana was rushed into the operating room. The "Surgery In Progress" light flicked on.
Lucas leaned against the cold wall. It took him a long time before he could hear his own heartbeat again.
He didn't know how much time had passed when measured footsteps approached from down the hall.
Lucas looked up to see a man walking toward him.
The man appeared to be in his early thirties, wearing an impeccably tailored white coat over a pressed light gray dress shirt. Gold-rimmed glasses sat on his nose, giving him the polished air of an academic.
He walked straight to the operating room door.
"What's her status?" he asked.
Lucas watched him. "Who are you?"
The man finally turned his attention to Lucas. "Professor Joshua Lynd." The introduction was casual. Then he addressed the head nurse who'd followed him. "Prepare immediately. I'm taking over Juliana's surgery."
The head nurse looked uncomfortable. "Professor Lynd, the specialists inside have already..."
"Tell them to step out." Joshua's tone wasn't harsh, but it carried an inherent authority. "She's my patient."
"I don't agree." Lucas straightened, blocking his path.
Joshua looked amused, like he'd heard a joke. "Mr. Sharp, is it?" He said the surname as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "What gives you the right to disagree?"
Joshua dismissed him, turning to change into sterile scrubs. He took two steps, then stopped. "I haven't settled accounts with the Sharp family for what happened seven years ago. If anything happens to Julie today..."
Each word was deliberate, weighted.
"I guarantee you and your mother will both regret ever being born."