Chapter 248
She didn’t look back. She threw the heavy door open and took the stairs two at a time, her shoulder burning, her lungs already screaming.
Amerigo was going for the children.
If she didn’t get there first, she would never see them again.
Cailin burst out of the studio’s back alley and into a waiting black Audi, its engine already running. Kegan had planned for every contingency. The driver — a grim-faced woman with a scar on her cheek — didn’t need to be told where to go. She pulled into traffic with calculated aggression, threading through the Midtown gridlock without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Hilliard sprinted for the main exit, only to find his path blocked by the very men Amerigo had sent.
“Sir, your grandfather insisted on ensuring your safety,” the lead guard said, his body an impassable wall. “Please wait for your vehicle.”
It was a polite cage. Amerigo wasn’t just sending a team to the children — he was actively detaining his own grandson.
By the time Hilliard shoved past them and roared the Aston Martin out of the garage, Cailin was already halfway across the Queensboro Bridge. It was never meant to be a fair race.
Cailin’s car screamed around the corner onto the quiet industrial street where the temporary safe house was located, tires shrieking, smoke billowing from the wheel wells.
She slammed on the brakes.
The street in front of the building was a parking lot of black SUVs.
“No,” she breathed, throwing her door open.
She sprinted toward the entrance. A wall of private security guards blocked it. Behind them, Amerigo Holloway stood on the sidewalk, leaning on his cane, surveying the building with the cool detachment of a man inspecting a property he intended to buy and demolish.
“Let me through!” Cailin screamed, shoving against a guard who didn’t move an inch.
“Ms. Morton,” Amerigo said, turning slowly. “You’re just in time. The medical team is preparing to enter.”
“You have no right!” Cailin yelled, her chest heaving. “This is kidnapping!”
“It’s stewardship,” Amerigo corrected. “I am securing the future of my company.”
A screech of tires announced Hilliard’s arrival. His Aston Martin skidded to a stop inches from Amerigo’s bumper. Hilliard jumped out, his face thunderous.
“Grandfather!” He stormed past the guards, who dared not stop him. “Call them off!”
“You’re being emotional, Hilliard,” Amerigo said. “I’m doing what you couldn’t. I’m verifying the assets.”
“They are children!” Hilliard shouted. “Not assets!”
“They are Holloways!” Amerigo’s voice rose with surprising force. “And they will be raised as such!”
He raised one hand. “Breach the door.”
Two guards advanced on the reinforced steel door with a battering ram.
BAM.
The sound cracked through the street like a gunshot.
Inside the building, an alarm began to wail — high-pitched and piercing. Then came a mechanical hiss.
Water exploded from the ceiling in thick sheets. The fire suppression system.
“Aron,” Cailin whispered. Her boy. He had triggered the sprinklers.
The guards hesitated as water began seeping under the gap at the base of the door.