Chapter 1 - The Lucky Coin
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Victor froze, the icy rain suddenly feeling entirely irrelevant against his skin. He turned back toward the open doorway where the young guard, Teddy, was holding the trembling three-year-old girl. Poppy’s large, tear-filled eyes stared back at him from the safety of the young man’s arms.
“What did you say, little bird?” Victor asked, his voice dropping to a low, desperate register.
“Mama took the heavy coin,” Poppy sniffled, burying her face into her stuffed rabbit. “The one you gave me. She put it in her coat pocket so I wouldn’t swallow it.”
Marcus stepped forward, his tactical flashlight cutting through the torrential downpour. He looked at Victor, the realization dawning on his scarred face. “Boss. Tell me she means the silver eagle.”
“She means the silver eagle,” Victor confirmed, his heart hammering against his ribs in a violent, unfamiliar rhythm.
Just three days ago, Victor had found Poppy playing near his office. He had given her a heavy, custom-made silver coin to keep her occupied. What the child didn’t know—what no one outside of Marcus knew—was that the coin was a military-grade GPS tracker. Victor used them for high-value shipments, slipping them into briefcases and crates. He had handed it to the toddler as a distraction, never expecting it to become the only lifeline to her kidnapped mother.
“Get the tablet,” Victor commanded, his voice turning to absolute ice. “Boot up the tracking software. Now.”
Marcus didn't hesitate. He sprinted back into the security building, his boots splashing heavily in the mud. Victor stood in the rain for a moment longer, looking at the tire tracks that had violently ripped through his gravel driveway. Gregory Vance. A man who had eaten at his table. A man who had watched Victor mourn his dead wife and child twelve years ago.
Gregory had framed Hannah. He had stolen the Delacroix ledgers—books containing enough financial blackmail to destroy the entire East Coast syndicate—and he was going to use Hannah as the perfect, disposable scapegoat.
Marcus re-emerged from the building, a glowing waterproof tablet in his hand. A single red dot was blinking aggressively against the digital map of Baltimore.
May you like
“He’s on Interstate 95, heading south,” Marcus said, his breath pluming in the cold air. “Moving fast. He’s taking her to the old shipyard.”
“Arm the men,” Victor said softly, turning toward the garage. “We are going to hunt.”
