Chapter 7 - THE FLIGHT TICKET
"Don't touch it!" Adrien roared, struggling violently against his zip ties.
The guard ignored him, holding the emerald pendant up to the light. It was a massive, square-cut stone set in heavy gold.
"A nice piece of jewelry for a waitress," the guard sneered, looking at Elena. "Where'd you get this?"
"I didn't," Elena stammered, genuinely confused. "I've never seen it before in my life."
It was true. She hadn't put it on. She hadn't even noticed it until now.
Adrien stopped struggling. He looked at the necklace, his chest heaving, his pale eyes burning with a desperate intensity.
"I put it on you," Adrien said softly, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. "When you were sleeping at the estate. It belonged to my mother."
The guard laughed loudly. "Russo getting romantic? Pathetic." He yanked the necklace so hard the chain snapped, tearing it from Elena's neck. "Vincent's going to love this."
He shoved the necklace into his tactical vest. "Move out."
They were dragged out of the cabin and shoved into the back of a heavily armored transport van. Tommy was thrown in beside them, weeping quietly.
As the van rumbled down the dark, muddy roads toward the city, Elena leaned closer to Adrien in the pitch-black interior.
"Why did you put that necklace on me?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Adrien turned his head, his face inches from hers. Even in the dark, she could feel the heat radiating from him.
"Because," Adrien whispered back, "that necklace contains a GPS tracker. And the moment that guard steps inside Vincent's warehouse, my entire syndicate will know exactly where to find us."
Elena’s breath hitched. He had planned for this. He had anticipated being taken.
"But why put it on me?" she asked.
"Because I knew if things went bad, Vincent's men would strip me of everything," Adrien explained quietly. "But they wouldn't check a waitress for a multimillion-dollar tracker disguised as an heirloom."
He paused, his shoulder brushing against hers.
"And because if we got separated, I needed to ensure I could find you again."
The sincerity in his voice sent a shockwave through Elena. This ruthless, dangerous man was actively risking his life to protect her and her brother.
Twenty minutes later, the van screeched to a halt.
The rear doors were thrown open, and they were dragged out into a sprawling, abandoned meat-packing plant. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, illuminating rusted meat hooks hanging from the ceiling.
Standing in the center of the room, flanked by two dozen heavily armed men, was Vincent Moretti.
He was older, gray-haired, wearing a pristine white suit that looked absurd in the filthy warehouse.
"Adrien Russo," Vincent smiled broadly, opening his arms. "Welcome to the end of your reign."
He turned to the guard. "Did you find the key?"
"No, boss," the guard replied, handing Vincent the emerald necklace. "Just this."
Vincent looked at the necklace, his smile fading slightly. "A trinket. Irrelevant. Did you burn the girl's apartment?"
"Yes, sir. It's ashes by now. The drawing is gone."
Elena felt a crushing wave of despair. The drawing was gone. The only proof her father left behind. The only leverage they had against the Morettis.
"Excellent," Vincent said, tossing the necklace aside like garbage. He pulled a heavy silver revolver from his waistband and cocked the hammer. "Then we have no more use for the girl or her brother."
He pointed the gun directly at Tommy's head.
"No!" Elena screamed, throwing herself in front of her brother.
Vincent sighed, shifting his aim toward Elena. "So dramatic."
Before he could pull the trigger, Adrien spoke, his voice booming through the warehouse with absolute authority.
"She doesn't need the drawing, Vincent!"
Vincent paused, his finger resting on the trigger. "Excuse me?"
"Arthur Ellis was a paranoid man," Adrien lied smoothly, his eyes never leaving Vincent. "He didn't just write the bank account numbers on a child's drawing. He made a copy."
Vincent’s eyes narrowed. "Where?"
"In a secure locker at O'Hare International Airport," Adrien stated with absolute conviction. "The flash drive is there."
Vincent stared at him, calculating the bluff. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because," Adrien said, stepping forward despite his bound hands, "Elena knows the combination. And if you kill her, you never get the money."
Vincent slowly lowered the gun. He looked at Elena. "Is this true? You know the code?"
Elena’s mind raced. Adrien was bluffing to buy time for his men to track the necklace. She had to play along.
"Yes," she lied, her voice surprisingly steady. "I know it."
Vincent smiled, a cold, reptilian expression.
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. He flicked it open and held it up.
It was a first-class flight ticket. One way. Chicago to Geneva, Switzerland. Departing in exactly two hours.
"Perfect," Vincent purred. "Because my flight leaves at 6:00 AM. And I intend to have that flash drive in my pocket when I board."
He gestured to his men. "Put Russo and the boy in the freezer. Let them freeze to death. Bring the girl to the airport."
The guards grabbed Adrien and Tommy.
"Elena!" Adrien shouted as they dragged him away toward a heavy steel door.
"Adrien!" she screamed, reaching for him, but a guard grabbed her roughly by the hair, dragging her toward a waiting car.
The heavy steel door of the industrial freezer slammed shut, sealing Adrien and Tommy inside.
Elena was shoved into the back of a luxury sedan with Vincent. The doors locked automatically.
May you like
Vincent looked at her, his smile gone.
"You better pray you remember those numbers, Elena," he whispered. "Because if you don't, I’m going to make a phone call, and your brother and lover are going to slowly freeze to death while listening to each other scream."
