Chapter 2 - The Red Ribbon Clue
The backstage corridor was a labyrinth of hanging garments, rolling flight cases, and narrow emergency stairwells. The backup emergency red lights finally flickered to life, bathing the concrete and mirrors in a sinister crimson glow.
Daisy reached down and picked up the yellow ribbon from the bloodstained floor. Her lower lip wobbled, her mischievous energy suddenly collapsing into raw, infantile fear. “Mommy’s ribbon... she promised she wouldn’t take it off.”
I knelt down in the shadows, balancing her on my knee, and smoothed the stray hairs from her forehead. “Look at me, Daisy. What did your mother tell you before you walked onto that stage?”
Daisy sniffled, clutching the plastic microphone to her chest. “She said... find the biggest man with the golden bear pin. She said tell him Mister Teddy needs to wake up, because bad uncle Marcus found the safe house.”
Hearing Marcus referred to as ‘bad uncle’ sent a chill straight down my spine. Marcus hadn’t just betrayed me—he had been tormenting my sister for half a decade while smiling in my face every single day. He had attended Emily’s memorial service. He had handed me a glass of whiskey while I drowned my sorrow.
“Did she tell you where they were taking her?” I asked gently, my voice softer than any living soul had heard it in ten years.
Daisy pointed her chubby finger toward the end of the hall, toward the freight elevator that led down to the sub-basement parking garages. “The tall man with the shiny teeth grabbed her arm. Mommy dropped her shoe and kicked him in the tummy! But he pushed her into the big iron box that goes down.”
“The loading dock,” Marco said grimly, reloading his clip. “Marcus has his private armored convoy parked in bay four. If he gets her onto the expressway, we’ll never track him through the city grid.”
“He won’t reach the gate,” I said, standing tall. “Marco, call Gianni and the perimeter team. Tell them to seal the blast doors at the underground exits. If a single tire leaves that garage, they answer to me.”
“Understood.” Marco tapped his earpiece, barking orders in rapid Italian.
I carried Daisy toward the fire stairs, bypassing the dead elevator shafts. As we descended the concrete steps, the distant roar of high-performance engines echoed from beneath us. The smell of burning rubber and exhaust fumes drifted up through the stairwell.
“Mister Teddy?” Daisy whispered, her chin resting on my shoulder. “Are you gonna make Mommy’s boo-boo go away?”
“I’m going to fix everything, little princess,” I promised. “I give you my word.”
Suddenly, the stairwell door beneath us kicked open. Two mercenaries in tactical gear rushed up the steps, automatic weapons raised. They were Marcus’s private contractors, men I had never seen before—outsiders brought in specifically for this coup.
“Target spotted! He’s got the kid!” one shouted.
Before their rifles could align, I grabbed a discarded heavy metal fire extinguisher from the wall mount and hurled it down the center of the spiraling staircase. It struck the lead mercenary directly in the chest, sending him tumbling backward into his partner. Both men crashed onto the concrete landing in a tangle of limbs and dropped weapons.
I vaulted down the steps, my heavy boots crushing the lead guard's wrist before he could retrieve his firearm. I disarmed the second with a swift, decisive strike to the throat, rendering him unconscious before he could draw breath.
Daisy clapped her tiny hands, giggling in the eerie crimson light. “Yay! Bowling! Do it again!”
“One strike per game, Daisy,” I muttered, stepping over the fallen men and kicking open the heavy metal door to the basement garage.
The subterranean garage was a vast sea of concrete pillars, luxury sports cars, and shadowed corners. Fifty yards away, near loading bay four, stood Marcus Bell. He was flanked by six heavily armed men, forcing a woman in a torn white dress into the back of a black armored SUV.
Emily.
Her hair was tangled, her face bruised, but the fierce fire in her dark eyes was unmistakable. Even with a gun pointed at her ribs, she fought back, biting the forearm of the guard trying to push her inside.
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“Emily!” I roared, my voice shaking the concrete rafters.
Marcus spun around, his tailored tuxedo pristine, a wicked, desperate smirk spreading across his aristocratic face. “Well, well, Dom. You always were too sentimental for this business. Look at you... playing babysitter while your kingdom burns.”
