Chapter 28: Taken

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Denzel's POV

The front door was slightly ajar.

I'd left it locked. I always left it locked.

"Stay in the car," I told Amelia.

"What's wrong?"

"The door's open. It shouldn't be."

I called Marcus. "I need a security sweep of my house. Now. Someone's been inside."

"On it. ETA five minutes."

"Make it two."

I kept Amelia in the car with one guard while I took another and approached the house cautiously.

The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was very wrong.

Furniture was overturned. Picture frames smashed. Papers scattered everywhere.

Someone had torn through my house.

But why?

"Check every room," I ordered the guard. "If anyone's still here, I want them found."

We swept through the first floor. Nothing. Second floor. Nothing.

Then we got to Naomi's room.

The door was splintered, like someone had kicked it in. Her belongings were scattered everywhere. And on her bed, written in red lipstick:

WE HAVE YOUR SISTER. 48 HOURS OR SHE DIES.

My blood turned to ice.

Naomi.

They had Naomi.

I pulled out my phone and called her number. It went straight to voicemail.

Called again. Same thing.

"Find her," I said to the guard, my voice deadly calm. "Find her now."

I went back downstairs where Amelia was waiting in the foyer, Oliver beside her.

"What happened?" she asked. "Why is everything destroyed?"

I couldn't speak. Couldn't find the words.

"Denzel?" She moved closer, touching my arm. "What's wrong? You're scaring me."

"They took her," I finally managed. "They took Naomi."

Rayna's POV

The words didn't make sense at first.

"What do you mean they took her?"

"Someone broke in. Ransacked the house. Took Naomi. Left a message." His voice was hollow. Empty. "Forty-eight hours or she dies."

"Oh my God." My hand flew to my mouth. "Where is she? Did they leave any clues? Any…."

"Nothing. Just the threat."

I'd never seen Denzel like this. He looked... broken. Terrified.

Naomi was his baby sister. The only family he had left besides Connor. The person he'd protected his whole life.

And now someone had taken her.

"We'll find her," I said, even though I had no idea how. "We'll get her back."

"How? We don't even know who has her. We don't know what they want."

"They want you to stop asking questions. So we stop. We give them what they want."

"And if they kill her anyway?"

I didn't have an answer for that.

Denzel's phone rang. Unknown number.

He answered immediately, putting it on speaker. "Where is she?"

A distorted voice came through. Mechanical. Unrecognizable.

"Mr. Adams. So good to finally talk to you directly."

"If you hurt her…"

"She's fine. For now. But her continued wellbeing depends entirely on your cooperation."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to stop digging into Oliver James's attack. Stop investigating. Stop asking questions. And most importantly, stop involving law enforcement."

"And if I do that, you'll let her go?"

"In forty-eight hours, yes. But if you continue to investigate, if you involve the police, if you do anything other than sit there and wait... we'll send her back to you in pieces."

The line went dead.

Denzel stood there, phone still in his hand, looking like his world had just collapsed.

"We have to call the police," Oliver said. "We have to…"

"No." Denzel's voice was sharp. "They said no police. If we involve them, they'll kill her."

"So what do we do?" I asked. "Just sit here and wait? Hope they keep their word?"

"I don't know." He looked at me, and for the first time since I'd met him, I saw real fear in his eyes. "I don't fucking know."

My phone buzzed.

Another text from the unknown number.

I opened it, and my blood turned to ice.

A photo. Of Naomi. Tied to a chair, tape over her mouth, terror in her eyes.

And below it:

Tick tock, Mr. and Mrs. Adams. 48 hours. Don't disappoint us.

I showed the photo to Denzel.

He stared at it for a long moment. Then, without a word, he turned and punched the wall. Hard enough that I heard something crack. I didn't know if it was the wall or his hand.

"Denzel…"

"Get out."

"What?"

"Everyone. Get out. I need to think."

"You can't just…."

"GET OUT!" He roared it, his control finally snapping.

Oliver grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. We left Denzel standing there in his destroyed home, bleeding and broken.

Twenty minutes later, I was in my wing with Oliver, both of us in shock.

"What do we do?" Oliver asked quietly.

"I don't know. He said not to involve the police. But how are we supposed to find her without help?"

"Maybe that's the point. Maybe they want us to feel helpless."

My phone rang. Serena.

"Ray! Oh my God, I just heard about Oliver. Are you okay? Is he okay?"

"Serena, now's not a good time…"

"I'm coming over. Right now. You shouldn't be alone."

"No, don't. It's not safe. Someone broke into the mansion and—"

"Broke in? Ray, what the hell is going on?"

I started to answer, then stopped. Could I trust Serena with this? The kidnappers had said no police. But they hadn't said no friends.

"Come over," I said. "But be careful. And Serena? Don't tell anyone where you're going."

"You're scaring me."

"Good. You should be scared. We all should be."

I hung up and looked at Oliver.

"This is bad," he said. "Really bad."

"I know."

"What if they kill her? What if…."

"They won't. We won't let them."

But even as I said it, I didn't believe it.

Because we had no idea who they were.

We had no idea where Naomi was.

And we had forty-eight hours to figure it out.

Or Denzel's sister was going to die.