Chapter 10 - The Choice
Damian did not look at the remote.
He looked at Crane's hand.
Noelle could almost see him calculating.
Distance.
Angle.
Reaction time.
She grabbed his sleeve.
"No."
Crane smiled.
"She's smart."
Damian's voice was calm.
"If the detonator is real, you die too."
"Maybe."
"You're not suicidal."
"No."
Crane's eyes glittered.
"But I'm eighty percent certain you are predictable."
Noelle looked at the elevator panel.
Between fifth and sixth floors.
No signal.
Emergency phone.
Camera.
Vent.
Nothing useful.
Crane held out her free hand.
"Phone."
Damian didn't move.
"Your phone."
"Why?"
"Files."
"They aren't on my phone."
"Access."
"No."
Crane's thumb pressed closer.
Noelle thought of the newborn ward above them.
Other mothers.
Other children.
Families who knew nothing about Project Legacy.
She looked at Damian.
"Give it to her."
He turned.
"No."
"Damian."
"She'll destroy the evidence."
"So?"
Crane's smile widened.
Noelle stepped closer to Damian.
"Listen to me."
"Noelle—"
"Evidence can be rebuilt."
"Not all of it."
"People can't."
His jaw tightened.
"You already sent copies."
Crane's eyes flashed.
There.
Noelle saw it.
Crane hadn't known.
Damian saw the mistake too.
Noelle continued quickly.
"Your attorney has copies."
Crane's face tightened.
Damian finally understood what Noelle was doing.
He nodded.
"Three sets."
Noelle lied.
"Federal prosecutor."
Damian added.
Another lie.
"Journalist."
Noelle said.
Crane's confidence cracked.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"No."
Noelle stared at the remote.
"But now you have to wonder."
Crane looked from one to the other.
Her thumb loosened.
Half an inch.
Enough.
Damian moved.
He caught Crane's wrist.
She screamed.
The remote fell.
Noelle kicked it beneath the elevator rail.
Crane clawed at Damian's face.
He pinned her against the wall.
"Don't kill her."
Noelle snapped.
"I wasn't."
"You looked enthusiastic."
"I was considering it."
"No."
Damian exhaled.
"Fine."
The elevator intercom crackled.
Reyes.
"Boss?"
Damian hit the speaker.
"Crane detained."
"Bomb squad?"
"Searching."
"Remote?"
"Recovered."
Noelle crouched beside it.
A tiny red light blinked.
Reyes swore through the speaker.
"Don't touch anything."
"Wasn't planning to."
Ten minutes later engineers manually opened the elevator doors.
Federal bomb technicians had not arrived.
Damian's own explosives expert did.
The charges were real.
But there was a problem.
The remote was not the only trigger.
Timer.
Twenty-three minutes.
Noelle's stomach dropped.
"Evacuate."
Damian ordered.
Hospital alarms sounded.
Patients began moving.
Nurses wheeled beds.
Doctors shouted.
Noelle helped a frightened pregnant woman into the stairwell.
Damian coordinated men on three floors as if commanding a military operation.
Crane sat handcuffed to a railing under guard.
She watched calmly.
Too calmly.
Noelle noticed.
"There's something else."
Crane looked at her.
"What?"
"You expect them to stop the bomb."
No answer.
Noelle stepped closer.
"You want us focused here."
Crane smiled faintly.
Noelle's heart jumped.
"The triplets."
She spun.
"Damian!"
He turned.
"The house."
His expression changed instantly.
He called Teresa.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Reyes called estate security.
Static.
Damian's face drained of color.
"No."
He ran.
Noelle followed.
"Reyes, handle the hospital."
Damian shouted.
"I'm going home."
They reached the SUV.
Noelle got in.
He didn't argue.
The trip back felt endless.
Damian drove himself.
Too fast.
Noelle clutched the door handle.
"Call Teresa again."
"No answer."
"Security?"
"Nothing."
"Could they be jamming?"
"Yes."
"Does that mean—"
"Don't."
His voice broke.
Noelle stopped.
She understood.
Don't say it.
Don't make it real.
The estate gates came into view.
Open.
Damian slammed the accelerator.
The security booth was empty.
Front door.
Open.
Noelle's heart stopped.
They ran inside.
"Teresa!"
Damian's voice echoed.
No response.
Toys on the floor.
One overturned chair.
Milk spilled across the kitchen tiles.
Noelle sprinted upstairs.
The nursery door stood open.
Three cribs.
Empty.
"No."
Her voice disappeared.
"No."
She checked the bathroom.
Closet.
Playroom.
Nothing.
Damian stood in the nursery doorway.
He looked like a dead man.
Noelle grabbed him.
"Where's the safe room?"
They ran.
Empty.
Blood on the floor.
Not much.
Enough.
Damian touched it.
His hand shook.
A sound came from the hallway.
Groan.
They turned.
Teresa lay behind the linen cart.
Noelle rushed to her.
"Teresa."
The older woman opened her eyes.
"Babies."
"Where?"
Teresa's lips trembled.
"Men."
"How many?"
"Three."
"Where did they take them?"
"Garage."
Damian was already running.
Noelle squeezed Teresa's hand.
"You're okay."
"Go."
Noelle went.
The garage held six vehicles.
One missing.
Black family SUV.
Damian stared at the empty bay.
"They took mine."
A phone rang.
Not his.
A small burner phone sat on the hood of a car.
Damian picked it up.
Answered.
Crane's recorded voice played.
"Now you understand leverage."
Noelle covered her mouth.
"Bring Samuel Bell."
"Bring every physical record from Milwaukee."
"Bring Sofia's original drives."
"Midnight."
"Marchetti Shipyard Four."
"If police or federal agents come, the children die."
The call ended.
Damian stood perfectly still.
Noelle had seen him angry.
She had seen him grieving.
This was different.
This was a father entering a place beyond fear.
"I'll kill her."
"No."
He looked at Noelle.
"If they hurt—"
"They need them alive."
"You don't know that."
"They called them evidence."
Noelle grabbed both sides of his face.
The gesture shocked both of them.
"Look at me."
He did.
"They need the children."
Her own voice shook.
"So we use that."
Damian closed his eyes.
For one second his forehead touched hers.
Then he pulled away.
"We get them back."
"Yes."
"All three."
"Yes."
His phone buzzed.
A video.
They watched.
Matteo.
Luca.
Emilia.
Alive.
Crying inside a warehouse.
Noelle's legs nearly collapsed.
Then Emilia looked toward the camera.
"Mama."
The screen went black.
Noelle started crying.
Damian caught her.
For a moment they held onto each other because there was nothing else.
Then the final message appeared.
COME WITH NOELLE.
May you like
SHE STARTED THIS.
SHE FINISHES IT.
