Chapter 120: Lucy’s Kidnapping

**120\. Lucy’s Kidnapping**

“What was in the box?”

Eirene asked as the picture was shown to her.

In the images Sia sent, three people were captured. Alice Cooper, a man, and a child in the man’s arms.

Eirene knew the child, it was herself.

And the man, she knew him as well. She had seen his pictures in Beatrix’s house many times over the years.

“Carter Beatrix.”

“You are indeed Beatrix, Eirene,”

Samuel said, realizing that things were becoming clearer now.

“Sir, Mrs. Beatrix, and Mellisa are heading to the airport. It looks like they’re leaving the country,” Robin reported after returning from his search for Lucy.

“I’ll go to them. I have too many questions. Samuel… I want my daughter back,”

Eirene stated firmly.

Samuel knew there was no stopping her now. Caser was relatively safer compared to Aurther, so he nodded but didn’t let her leave alone. As Eirene left, he and Victor resumed their search for Lucy.

In a dark, isolated room, more like an abandoned outhouse deep in the outskirts of the city. Two children were thrown to the ground without an ounce of mercy.

“Is he a kid or a monster?” one of the men muttered.

The man, bloodied and bruised, wiped his face before stepping back and slamming the door shut, leaving the two captives under the watch of three other men.

A boy, barely ten years old, struggled to sit up, his hands and feet tightly bound. He crawled toward Lucy, who lay unconscious beside him, her wrists and ankles tied.

“Lucy… Lucy, wake up,”

He whispered, nudging her with his elbow, but she remained still.

His face was a mess of tears and blood, yet he kept struggling against the restraints, his only concern being Lucy’s safety. He had just wanted to see his friend after more than half a year, if he had known that one small mistake would put her life at risk, he never would have approached her.

Before he could nudge her again, a brutal kick landed on his back, sending him crashing forward. His vision blurred as he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.

Before his eyes closed, his last desperate wish was for Lucy to make it out of this place alive.

“How can a ten year old be this strong and stubborn?”

The man who kicked him muttered.

Another man, still wiping blood off his face, scoffed.

“Seal his mouth. He nearly took my ear off.”

One of them hesitated, glancing at Lucy.

“Shouldn’t we just kill her this time? Selling her could be risky. She seems like she’s from a powerful family.”

The leader, a bald man with tattooed arms, shook his head.

“Killing her outright is too dangerous. Let’s demand more money from the big boss first. Then we’ll deal with her.”

With that, he walked out, and the others followed after making sure both children were securely gagged.

The boy opened his eyes again. He had no idea how many hours had passed. As he struggled to move closer to Lucy, he saw her eyes open, anxiously searching for him.

This time, before making any sudden moves, he sat up and glanced around. Though the room was dim, he could make out the walls and quickly realized that they were finally alone, with no kidnappers in sight.

With his hands still tied behind his back, he twisted his fingers toward his back pocket. After several failed attempts, he finally managed to grasp the small knife he had hidden there.

The knife was tiny and fragile against the thick layers of rope, but the small hands wielding it were determined. He worked tirelessly, rubbing the blade against the threads, slicing through them one by one.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally freed himself. Quickly untying his feet and ripping the tape from his mouth, he wasted no time and ran toward the single, closed window in the shelter.

Though shut, the window had a small hole. Peering through it, he guessed that it was almost evening. The kidnappers had driven for hours before arriving here, which meant they were in an isolated location.

Leaning close to Lucy, he whispered,

“I’m taking off the tape, but don’t scream or talk too loud, okay?”

Lucy nodded.

Carefully, he removed the tape from her mouth, then took her hand and led her toward the window.

Earlier, he had noticed there were no guards nearby, and the shelter itself was old. That meant the window should be easy to open.

For a ten year old, his hands moved with surprising skill. Using the only chair in the room, he managed to pry the window open. Then, with careful precision, he jumped out, taking Lucy with him.

“Give me the bracelet in your hand.”

He took the bracelet from her as they ran, surrounded by nothing but trees in every direction.

Meanwhile, the kidnappers, unaware of their escape, were drinking near the door. Since the window was at the back of the shelter, they had no idea what had happened. Believing the children were still tied up, they remained relaxed, completely oblivious to the unfolding situation.

Finally, the call connected.

“The bastard finally picked up…”

The leader muttered, holding the phone to his ear.

“We got the girl!”

He reported.

On the other end of the line, a man responded in a low voice.

“I’m coming.”

Far away,

Aurther Beatrix sat in his dimly lit study, restless.

His ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts as he took another drag, his gaze fixed on the moon outside. No one could tell what was running through his mind.

Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out an old photograph.

*Alice.*

She was smiling brightly in the picture. His fingers trembled as he traced her face, the once vibrant colors were now faded and worn. Slowly, his hand moved to the corner of the photograph, unfolding a hidden section.

Beside Alice stood a young man, his hand resting on her shoulder while his other arm cradled a baby. His smile was radiant, warm, and full of life, just like hers.

Aurther’s fingers curled into a fist around the photograph.

“Brother… forgive me for what I’m about to do.”

The young man in the picture bore an uncanny resemblance to Aurther himself, there was no doubt they were related.

“This was your fault…”

His voice was barely above a whisper, his grip tightening on the worn edges of the photograph.

“You forced me to do this.”

With those final words, he grabbed his coat and stormed out.