Chapter 87 Kellan

Chapter 87 Kellan
KELLAN’S POV

The next morning, I sat on the edge of Alex's couch, my phone clutched in the firm grasp of my hand as if the strength of the hold could balance my thoughts spiraling out of order. The room, apart from the soft light coming from the table lamp, was shrouded in darkness. The creeping shadows at each corner were a reflection of unease crawling in my chest.

What was left now was the riskiest of them all, and frankly speaking, I couldn't afford to waste more time. So I dialed the number that Brian had sent me - London head of Security - a man who, per Brian, had ties in with the Brooke family and who would deal in high stake situations.

It rang a couple of times until I heard this firm, deep voice respond, "This is Gerald Mitchell.”

‘Mr. Mitchell, my name is Kellan Easton," I started off hopefully-my voice wasn't breaking, "I'm calling because I have evidence regarding Carl Martins’ involvement in some illegal activities including but not limited to fraud, bribery, and unlawful imprisonment of Amanda Dawson.”

It was again time for him to fall silent, and for all intent and purposes, I heard this man process my words inside his mind. "You're accusing Carl Martins of criminal behavior?" He said the words with great reserve, though I could tell in my gut the nudge of curiosity within him.

"Yes," I said, "and to prove it, I do have a great deal of evidence: documents, recordings, eyewitnesses. And there's more: Amanda Dawson isn't who Carl says she is. She's Olivia, Brian's sister. He's been keeping her in false pretenses, controlled, maybe worse."

There was dead silence for a moment. When Gerald did speak, his voice was heavier and colder, cutting deeper than before. "Brian Brooke's sister?"

"That's right," I said. "He doesn't have all of it, but Olivia was considered dead two years ago. Carl found her and has been holding her since because she lost her memories. She's begun having recollections of who her actual self is, and he's now trying to suppress every part of her.”

I heard some shuffling of papers in the background. "You said you have evidence. Can you send it to me now?"

"I can," I said, already opening my laptop. I opened the encrypted folder I put together and started transferring the files onto an email. "It's in the email I'm about to send. That will include financial records placing Carl into offshore accounts, testimony from his former associates, and the proof that Amanda Dawson is really Olivia Brooke."

"Understood," Gerald said. "I'll review it immediately."

A chill ran down my spine as my fingers hit the send button. "Mr. Mitchell, time is of essence. Carl's already sent someone to shut me up. If he gets to know that I got you involved, he would surely intensify his game. Amanda's life will be threatened."

"Kellan," Gerald said firmly, "if what you tell me checks out, be assured I'll move quicker than you think. But I suppose nobody, not even Carl Martins, is above the law.

Relief washed over me, quickly overpowered by the weight of what was to come. "Thanks," I whispered.

"One more thing," Gerald added. "Where are you now?"

"I'm at a friend's house," I said cautiously.

"Good. Stay there," he ordered. "If Carl has sent someone after you, you're not safe. Let me handle this."

"I want to help," I said

“You've done enough by bringing this to my attention, " Gerald said briefly. "Now let me do my job."

I couldn't say anything else, for the line was dead. I let go of my phone and squeezed my chest, tightly full with hope and fear in it all at once. He had been the only big chance Olivia had. Still being forced to be able to do nothing like this - to simply sit on one's butt - was agony.

The next one hour was spent amidst gruesome silence, to say the least. I just couldn't sit and thus began pacing around Alex's living room, the weight of the situation heavy upon my mind. Every second in that instance felt like a lifetime.

Finally, my phone buzzed. Flipping open the screen showed me a name: Gerald.
"Mr. Mitchell?" I answered in one fluid motion.

"I've seen the proof," he said. "And I don't have a shadow of a doubt that Carl Martins has committed grave crimes. My team mobilizes now. We'll raid his estate and bring him into custody."

A wave of relief just washed over me. "And Amanda? What about her?"

"She'll be our priority," Gerald told me. "We'll get her safe."

"I want to be there," I said, no question.

"Out of the question," Gerald said shortly. "This is a dangerous operation, and we can't risk some civilians getting in the way. You're already a target, Mr. Easton. You're better off exactly where you are."

"She's my wife," I said, shaking. "I just can't sit here while you storm in there. I have to know if she's all right."

"You'll know the minute we have her," Gerald said smoothly. "But I need you to trust me, too. If Carl sees you, it's going to make things worse. Let us handle this."

I fisted my hands as frustration bubbled inside me. Of course, he was right. I'd just be in the way.

"Fine," I huffed. "But promise me you will get her out of there. Promise me she'll be safe."

"You have my word," he said. "I'll call you the moment the operation is over."

The line went dead, and I slumped onto the couch, throwing my head into my hands. It was as if the weight of the world rested upon my shoulders. I had done all that I could, but to think of Olivia-scared and alone-trapped with Carl. The tightness in my chest wouldn't ease up.

Those minutes ticked on, one after another in the living room of Alex, while waiting for a word. Alex tried to speak with me-for my distraction-but the thing was, I couldn't make out a word he uttered, for the reason being that during this time my mind replayed every plausible outcome the raid could yield. What if Gerald's team reaches late? What if Carl had done anything to Olivia before they reached?

I shook my head, willing the dark thoughts to flee. I had to believe in Gerald, in his team, in the evidence I'd provided.

But as the minutes ticked on to hours, my faith started to falter.

Finally, my phone buzzed. My heart leapt as I grabbed it, expecting an update from Gerald. But it wasn't him. It was Thomas.

"Kellan," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We have a problem.

“What is it?" I asked. My voice was low-my stomach plummeting.

"Carl knows," Thomas's voice was heavy. "He knows about the raid. He's running, and he's taking Amanda with him."

The world around me seemed to tilt onto one side. "What do you mean, he's taking her?”

"He's not going to let her go without a fight," Thomas said. "And when he feels cornered, he'll do something crazy. You need to be prepared for the worst.”

Finally, the line went dead, and I just sat there with my ringing phone, that chill forming in my chest now turning into a glacial ice.

Carl was desperate, which made him a far more dangerous