Chapter 8 - The Abduction at Midnight
The morning sun rose over Lake Michigan, casting an amber glow across the Ashford estate. The Navy Pier incident had been contained; the media reported it as a minor mechanical malfunction, but the underworld knew the truth: Kieran Ashford had openly challenged Marcus Vance, and Vance’s strike had failed spectacularly.
Yet the battle was far from over.
Inside the sprawling carriage house on the Ashford estate, which Kieran had fully converted into an advanced technical workshop for Meredith, blueprints and shipping manifests covered the massive wooden worktables.
Meredith, back in her comfortable denim work shirt and steel-toed boots, was cross-referencing shipping container serial numbers with the Wayne County transit records.
"Look at this," Meredith said, pointing at a faded bill of lading.
Jolene, who had spent the entire morning bringing Meredith fresh coffee and organizing files, leaned over the table. "What does it mean?"
"The steel that failed five years ago wasn't just poor quality," Meredith explained, her eyes wide with revelation. "It was hollowed-out tubular casing used to smuggle high-grade industrial narcotics through the Great Lakes waterways. Marcus Vance didn't just ruin my father to save money on a contract—he collapsed that transit hub because my father discovered the hollow bolts and was about to go to the federal inspectors!"
Jolene gasped. "My God. He murdered those workers just to keep his smuggling route secret."
"And he framed my father so no one would look closely at the materials," Meredith said, her voice shaking with rage. "If we bring these serial manifests to the U.S. Attorney’s office, Vance won't just face corporate lawsuits. He’ll face life in a federal penitentiary for multiple counts of felony murder."
"Then we don't wait," Jolene declared, reaching for her phone. "I’m calling Kieran right now. He’s at the downtown financial office meeting with the port commissioners."
Before Jolene could dial, the heavy halogen lights inside the carriage house suddenly blinked out.
The hum of the ventilation system died. The electric locks on the workshop doors clicked into emergency lockdown mode.
Meredith’s instincts flared instantly. "Jolene, get down!"
The reinforced glass windows along the north wall shattered in an explosion of black smoke and flashbang grenades.
The deafening *bang* and blinding white light disoriented Jolene, who tumbled to the floor with a scream. Meredith threw herself across the younger girl’s body, using her own frame as a shield.
Through the smoke, four men wearing tactical gear and night-vision goggles breached the room. They weren't low-level thugs with crowbars; this was Vance’s elite private paramilitary security force.
Meredith grabbed a heavy two-foot iron breaker bar from the workbench, swinging it blindly through the smoke. The heavy steel connected with the first operative’s shoulder with a sickening crunch, sending him crashing into a tool chest.
"Move, Jolene! Toward the cellar hatch!" Meredith screamed.
A second operative lunged forward, pressing a pressurized taser against Meredith’s ribs.
Fifty thousand volts of electricity surged through Meredith’s nervous system. Her vision exploded into white fire. Her muscles locked instantly, the breaker bar slipping from her paralyzed fingers. She collapsed onto the concrete floor, convulsing as the current overwhelmed her body.
"Take both of them!" a raspy voice barked through a gas mask.
"No!" Meredith wheezed through clenched teeth, her vision tunneling into darkness. Summoning every last ounce of sheer willpower, she grabbed the operative’s boot, tripping him violently toward the table. "Run, Jolene! Get to Kieran! RUN!"
Jolene scrambled toward the concealed underground security tunnel, tears blinding her eyes. She reached the threshold, looked back at Meredith being pinned to the floor by two armed men, and hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"GO!" Meredith choked out, before a heavy rifle butt struck her across the temple.
The world went completely black.
Twenty minutes later, Kieran Ashford’s armored Maybach screeched to a halt in the courtyard of the estate.
Bryce and a dozen armed security personnel swarmed out of following vehicles, weapons drawn, but they were already too late.
Kieran stepped into the ruined carriage house. The smell of flash powder and shattered glass hung thick in the air. The worktables were overturned, files scattered everywhere.
On the floor, near a pool of fresh blood, lay Meredith’s battered twelve-inch pipe wrench.
Jolene emerged from the underground corridor, her clothes torn, sobbing uncontrollably. "Kieran... they took her. They were going to take me, but she fought them... she let them taser her so I could get to the tunnel... Kieran, it’s Vance! He took Meredith!"
Kieran walked slowly over to the center of the room. He knelt down and picked up the bloody wrench.
His face was devoid of color. His eyes were not angry; they were completely hollow, burning with an unholy, terrifying stillness that made even Bryce step back in instinctive dread.
Kieran stood up, turning the bloody steel tool in his hands.
When he spoke, his voice was so quiet it was barely audible above the wind whistling through the shattered windows.
"Bryce."
"Sir."
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"Shut down every port, every rail yard, and every highway exit in the state of Illinois," Kieran said. "Call every captain, every enforcer, and every corrupt official on our payroll. Tell them that if Marcus Vance is still breathing by sunset, I will burn this entire city to the ground with everyone in it."
***
