Chapter 176
Chapter 176
Michael turned away from her, picked up his phone, checked the time, glanced toward the door, and sat down on a wooden crate nearby.
Victoria felt the left side of her face slowly swelling. The split at the corner of her mouth tasted like rust when she ran her tongue over it.
She leaned against the chair back and discreetly rotated her right wrist.
The rope was tied tight, grinding into flesh. It had probably already left bruises.
But she noticed something—one strand of the rope had come loose, likely because whoever tied the knot hadn't secured the tail end properly.
Good news.
She worked her thumb slowly, carefully drawing the loose thread outward, millimeter by millimeter.
Not a single sound.
---
Time crawled inside the abandoned factory.
The column of light from the broken window above drifted from her feet to her knees, then continued its slow migration leftward.
Michael went outside to make another phone call. When he came back, his expression was darker than before.
Victoria allowed herself a small smile.
He probably couldn't get through to whoever he'd called. Maybe Edward simply couldn't be bothered to answer.
Her right thumb had finally pulled the thread out far enough.
The knot loosened slightly. Her wrist could rotate now.
She kept working at it, expression unchanged. The rough hemp scraped her fingertips raw and burning, but she didn't stop.
---
About fifteen minutes later, a faint sound came from outside the factory.
It filtered through layers of walls and rusted equipment, almost too muffled to identify.
But Victoria caught it.
She glanced at Michael. He was scrolling through his phone, head down. He hadn't heard.
She turned her attention back to her wrist and kept working the knot.
Her heartbeat quickened, but nothing showed on her face.
She was waiting.
For the right moment.
---
Michael's phone rang suddenly.
He answered and hit speaker. Edward's voice came through. "I have what you want. I'll send the scan now. Let her answer the phone first—I need to confirm she's safe."
Michael scoffed. "Send the scan first. Once I verify it, then—"
"Let her answer. Now."
Edward's voice dropped lower than before. Every syllable carried an authority that left no room for argument. "I'm not negotiating. After I hear her voice, you'll have the scan in your inbox within two minutes."
Victoria's fingers stilled on the rope.
Her eyes stung with sudden heat.
She didn't make a sound. She just looked down at her wrist, at the hemp rope that was now two-thirds undone.
The loose threads hung to one side. A few more pulls and she'd be free.
Edward could have kept stringing Michael along.
But he was still worried about her.
Warmth flooded through her chest. She dug her nails into her palm and forced it back down.
Michael hesitated for two seconds. Apparently deciding that letting Victoria say a few words wouldn't hurt anything, he held the phone in front of her face. "Talk."
Victoria looked up at the screen. Edward's name glowed across it.
She parted her lips. Her voice was quiet but clear. "Edward, I'm not hurt."
A beat of silence on the other end. Then his voice came through. "I know."
His tone was flat. But his voice was taut as a wire.
He didn't believe her. Not entirely.
Victoria hesitated, about to say something more.
But Michael didn't give her the chance. He pulled the phone back and spoke into it. "Don't forget to send the scan."
Edward didn't waver. Just a single word. "Fine."
---
After hanging up, Michael turned his back to her and walked to the broken window by the factory entrance, scrolling through his phone, waiting for the email.
Victoria dropped her gaze. Her right thumb drew out the last thread. The knot gave way completely.
She slipped her wrist free with a motion so slight Michael didn't notice.
She didn't stand. She draped the loosened rope back over her wrists, maintaining the appearance of being bound.
---
From outside the factory came the sound of footsteps—dense, converging, building into a low hum.
Michael heard it too. He spun from the window, and for one unguarded instant, raw panic flashed across his face.
"Damn it!"
He lunged toward Victoria, hand reaching for her shoulder.
But Victoria was faster.
She exploded out of the chair, the rope flying from her wrists as she staggered back two steps and hit the wall.
She had no weapon. But the length of hemp thread was clenched in her fist, her knuckles white around it.
The factory door crashed open from the outside. Light flooded in, so bright Victoria had to squint.
Officers in uniform poured through the entrance. Michael's hand was still suspended in midair.
He looked back at the figures storming in, then turned to face Victoria one last time.
Her back was pressed against the wall, half a rope clutched in her hand. The left side of her face was swollen. Dried blood traced the corner of her mouth. But her eyes blazed with a ferocity that was almost blinding.
"It's over."
Victoria smiled, her voice soft. "Uncle."
---
Michael struggled as they forced him to the ground. His arms were wrenched behind his back, his face pressed into the dust-covered concrete.
As the handcuffs clicked shut, he craned his neck to look in Victoria's direction. An officer's sharp command cut him short.
Victoria didn't look at him again.
Her gaze traveled past the crowd and the settling dust to the figure walking through the doorway.
Edward wasn't rushing. His coat still carried the windswept grit from the Crescent Harbor warehouse. His collar was slightly askew. His shoes struck the concrete with steady, measured steps.
From the moment he entered, his eyes cut through the entire length of the abandoned factory and locked onto her.
Her cheek was swollen. She was bleeding.
This was what she called 'not hurt'?
By the time he reached her, Victoria had already dropped the rope. Her arms hung at her sides as she stood against the wall, watching him come.
He stopped in front of her. His gaze dropped to the injury on her left cheek.
"Not hurt?"
Edward lifted his hand and brushed the dried blood from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. When his fingertip grazed the edge of the broken skin, his touch turned even gentler. "We'll deal with you when we get home."
He pulled off his coat and draped it around her shoulders, adjusting the collar. One hand settled on the back of her head and drew her gently into the curve of his shoulder.
Victoria leaned into him and breathed in the scent that was uniquely his—still clinging to the fabric of his coat.
She could feel his anger. It radiated through every taut line of his body.
But even so, what Edward gave her was the same thing he always gave her.
Gentleness.
"Edward."
Victoria's voice was faint. "I'm tired. Take me home."
The steel wire she'd been holding taut since the moment they'd bound her finally snapped.
She reached up and fisted the front of his shirt, gripping so hard her knuckles went white.
Her shoulders trembled. But she didn't cry.
Edward's arm tightened around her. His other hand patted her back in a slow, steady rhythm—light but deliberate.
"Okay."
His voice was low and quiet. "Let's go home."