Chapter 3 - THE CRAYON DOG
The restaurant seemed to hold its collective breath. The clinking of silverware and soft jazz faded into a dull, white noise as Elias stared at the crumpled drawing in Nakia’s trembling hand.
It was a child’s drawing. A messy, bright blue dog with five legs.
Elias looked from the paper to Nakia’s face. The defiant, fearless housekeeper who scolded him about coffee rings was gone. In her place was a terrified young woman, completely hollowed out by fear.
She already knew exactly who I was.
Brendan—Alexei—smiled, leaning back against his chair. He casually spun the silver lighter on the tablecloth. "Seven years old. Cute kid. Leo, right? Likes to draw. We set him up in a nice, quiet room. But you know how shipping containers get, Mercer. Cold. Dark. Hard to breathe."
Elias’s mind moved with terrifying speed.
The three million dollars missing in Miami. The cargo delays. It wasn't about drugs or weapons. The Volkovs had intercepted something else. They had taken collateral. But why Nakia? Why her nephew?
"How long?" Elias asked Nakia, his voice dangerously soft.
"Since Tuesday," Nakia whispered, a tear finally escaping and tracking down her cheek. "My sister, Maya... she died three years ago. I’ve been raising Leo. I put him on the school bus Tuesday morning, and he never came home. Instead, I got a text with a picture of this lighter. And a time to be at the laundromat."
"And you didn't tell me," Elias said.
"Tell you what?" Nakia snapped, her anger briefly flashing through her terror. "That the ruthless crime boss I clean for might be the reason my nephew was kidnapped? They told me if I went to the cops, or if I told you, they’d kill him. They said I had to steal the biometric drive from your home safe and hand it over on this 'date,' or Leo dies."
Elias slowly turned his head back to Alexei.
The Volkov enforcer stopped spinning the lighter. He slipped a hand casually inside his jacket. "So, let's keep this simple, Mercer. She hands over the drive, I make a call, the kid gets dropped at a fire station. You intervene, the kid disappears forever. Your choice."
"Marcus," Elias said quietly.
Marcus stepped forward from the shadows of the restaurant's entrance, unbuttoning his suit jacket. Alexei’s eyes darted to the massive security chief, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine anxiety crossed his face.
"You make a scene here, Mercer, and the kid is dead," Alexei warned, though his voice lacked its previous arrogance.
Elias didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. The pure, lethal promise in his tone was enough to lower the temperature in the room.
"You made a fundamental miscalculation, Alexei," Elias said, stepping closer to the table. "You assumed I care about the biometric drive. I have fifty million dollars in a dozen offshore accounts. If you take three, I will simply replace it by next quarter."
Alexei frowned. "Then step aside."
"But," Elias continued, his eyes locking onto the Russian's, "you touched something that belongs in my house. You threatened someone who works for me."
Before Alexei could draw his weapon, Elias moved.
He grabbed the heavy, thick glass wine bottle from the table and smashed it directly across Alexei’s jaw. The sound of shattering glass and bone echoed like a gunshot through the restaurant. Alexei collapsed backward in his chair, blood spraying across the white tablecloth.
Screams erupted from the surrounding tables. Diners scrambled backward, chairs knocking over.
Alexei hit the floor, groaning, his hand reaching clumsily for his shoulder holster.
Marcus was there in a second, pinning the enforcer’s arm beneath a heavy tactical boot with a sickening crunch. Alexei howled in agony.
"Elias!" Nakia screamed, grabbing his arm. "Stop! They’ll kill Leo!"
Elias looked down at her. His icy exterior fractured, just slightly, showing the fierce, protective fury burning beneath. "They were never going to let him go, Nakia. If you gave them the drive, they would have killed you both to tie up loose ends. That is how the Volkovs operate."
Nakia stared at him, the horrifying truth of his words sinking in. She covered her mouth with her hands, a stifled sob tearing from her throat.
Elias knelt beside the bleeding enforcer. He picked up the silver Volkov lighter from the floor. He flicked it open, igniting the flame, and held it inches from Alexei’s terrified eye.
"Where is the boy?" Elias asked.
"Go to hell," Alexei spat, blood bubbling on his lips.
Elias didn't flinch. He moved the flame closer until the heat singed Alexei’s eyelashes. "You have three seconds to give me an address, or I will take this eye. Then I will take the other. Then I will let Marcus have the rest of you."
"Elias, please," Nakia begged, terrified of the violence but more terrified for her nephew.
"One," Elias counted.
Alexei trembled.
"Two."
"The old rail yard!" Alexei screamed, twisting his head away from the flame. "South side! The abandoned switching station near 47th! He’s locked in the basement office!"
Elias extinguished the lighter and stood up. He looked at Marcus. "Clean this up. Call the local precinct captain, tell him I’m making a donation to the pension fund to cover the property damage. Then bring this trash to the lockup."
"Yes, Boss," Marcus said, hauling Alexei up by his broken arm.
Elias turned to Nakia. She was shaking uncontrollably, clutching the crayon drawing of the dog against her chest. He reached out, his hand hesitating for a fraction of a second before gently wrapping around her wrist.
"Come with me," Elias said softly.
"We have to go to the rail yard," she pleaded, letting him pull her toward the exit. "We have to get him."
"We will," Elias promised as they stepped out into the pouring rain. "But first, we need to go back to the penthouse."
"Why?" Nakia demanded, stopping on the wet pavement. "Every second counts!"
"Because," Elias said, opening the door of the armored SUV for her, "the Volkovs are street thugs. They don't have the intelligence to breach my inner circle. They didn't know you had a nephew. They didn't know your sister's name. They couldn't have found that information on their own."
Nakia frowned, climbing into the warm leather seat. "What are you saying?"
Elias closed the door and got in beside her, staring straight ahead as the driver pulled away from the curb.
"I am saying there is a rat inside my organization. Someone gave the Volkovs your nephew to use as leverage against me. And the only people who have access to my household staff files..."
Elias stopped, his eyes falling on the center console of the SUV.
Resting neatly on the leather was a small, familiar object.
A silver cufflink. Shaped like a snarling wolf.
Elias’s blood ran cold.
It was Silas. His second-in-command. The man who had managed the Miami cargo routes.
May you like
Elias looked up, meeting the eyes of the driver in the rearview mirror. It wasn't his usual driver. It was one of Silas’s men. And he was smiling, reaching beneath his jacket.
"Duck," Elias commanded.
