로그인Arnold’s mansion Arnold was furious. His men had failed to catch Fred and Mrs. Ruth, and that enraged him even more. There had been a third person with them—he was sure of it. The voice had sounded familiar, but Arnold said nothing. “Take Anna to her room. Immediately,” he ordered coldly. As his men obeyed, his mind raced. He needed Mrs. Ruth. He needed Fred. And he would have them. He glanced at the bodies scattered across the floor and sneered. “Clean this place up.” The auction had been ruined. His clients had fled. Everything was a mess. “He’s here,” one of the guards said, rushing in to inform him of a visitor’s arrival. Arnold’s mood instantly brightened abit. “I don’t want him to see me yet,” Arnold said. “You’ll attend to him. Tell him I have urgent business to handle. Get everything he knows—and make sure you record it.” The men nodded and left. Guest Room The man seated in the guest room had heard the chaos earlier—gunshots, shouting, hurried foots
Fred stood frozen in place, his instincts screaming at him. Every wool of his being told him the familiar presence he felt was real—but he couldn’t turn to confirm it. Not now. Anna was on stage, which meant the mission had already begun. There was no room for doubt. Sister Vera’s voice crackled through the comms. “We need to act in fifteen minutes. Our time starts now.” Fred exhaled slowly. “Copy.” He tapped his earpiece again. “Carden, move closer to the stage. Don’t blow it.” Then, turning slightly toward Mrs. Ruth, he lowered his voice. “Stay calm. In fifteen minutes, you’ll have your daughter in your arms.” Mrs. Ruth nodded, but her clenched fists betrayed her. Her urge was getting the best of her. On stage, Arnold held Anna firmly by the arm, presenting her to the room like a prized possession. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced smoothly, “meet my muse.” The crowd murmured in awe. “She’s not for sale,” Arnold continued, a smile curling on his lips, “but tonight, we’
Fred led the way through a narrow back passage, the air damp and stale. The walls closed in as if the building itself was listening. “Stay sharp,” Fred whispered. “No lights unless absolutely necessary. Surveillance is everywhere.” Mrs. Ruth and Carden nodded silently. They moved through empty hallways lined with framed photographs—children. Unknown faces. Too young. Too still. The silence pressed hard against their chests. Mrs. Ruth swallowed. “How many Annas walked these halls”?,She asked rhetorically. Footsteps echoed ahead. A guard. Fred raised his fist instantly. All movement stopped. Flashlights clicked off. They melted into the shadows, backs pressed against the cold wall. The guard walked closer. Closer. Fred slid his hand into his pocket, fingers closing around the grip of his handgun. His jaw tightened. With a subtle signal, he warned Ruth and Carden to stay absolutely still. The footsteps stopped. Fred burst forward, gun raised. “Don’t move.” “Bo
Tonight ??? “I need to get ready. I need to go with you guys,” Mrs. Ruth said, standing up. “No, you don’t need to,” Fred tried to calm her. “This is too dangerous. And you are his next target, so you need to stay safe until we get Anna.” “Please, no. I need to go.” “Go to where?” Sister Vera’s voice came in. Everyone turned to look at her. She was standing at the door. “Where are you all going?” Fred gave a frustrated stare. It seemed he didn’t want Sister Vera to know, and now she had walked in on them while they were having this conversation. “Carden, Fred,” she called. “What’s going on? Are you taking Mrs. Ruth from here?” “No, no, we are not,” Carden said. He stared at Fred; his look showed he didn’t want Sister Vera to know, but now they had no choice. Before he could speak, Mrs. Ruth spoke up. “They want to go to the mansion for the auction, and they don’t want me to go with them. I need to see my girl. Even if it’s dangerous—” “Mrs. Ruth, I understand,” Sis
Fred marched hard on the brakes, the car screeching to a dead stop by the roadside. His chest breathing up and down , anger pounding through his veins after the call with Carlos. The night felt tighter somehow, as if the darkness itself were listening and ready to speak out the already known. Before he could restart the engine, his phone rang again. An unknown number. He stared at it for a second, then answered. Silence. Then a voice—smooth, familiar, and cruel. “Well, well, well,” the voice said. “A prodigal son who went astray, yet still chooses to fight his father—forgetting where he came from.” Fred’s jaw clenched. “Arnold,” he said coldly. A low chuckle followed. “Ah. Seems I’ve taken permanent residence in your head.” “What do you want?” Fred asked. “Good question,” Arnold replied calmly. “You have what I want.” Fred scoffed. “What are you talking about?” “I hear Mrs. Ruth is with you,” Arnold said. “I need her. Bring her to me.” “You must be sick,” Fred snapped. A
At the mansion, afternoon light crept in softly through the tall curtains, but Anna’s mind was far from peaceful. She woke late, the remnants of a restless night clinging to her. Arnold’s words from the evening before replayed in her thoughts—a surprise, he had said. Yet the night had passed without anything unusual. She sighed and pushed the covers aside, heading toward the bathroom. A knock stopped her. Anna opened the door to find Arnold standing there, impeccably dressed as always, his expression unreadable. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. “There’s an auction in a few days,” he said calmly. “One I’ve personally arranged.” Anna studied his face. “Is that the surprise you were talking about?” Arnold’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “No,” he replied. “That comes later. And trust me—you’ll be amused.” The smile sent a chill down her spine. “You’ll need to be present at the auction,” he added, turning toward the door. “Prepare yourself.”




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