Chapter 18 - The Raid
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We watched the raid from a live drone feed on Agent Reynolds' laptop in the safe house.
The Hearth was packed with the evening dinner rush. At exactly 7:30 PM, six black armored FBI vans screeched to a halt outside the elegant restaurant. Dozens of agents in tactical gear poured out, swarming the front and back entrances simultaneously.
Customers screamed as agents stormed the dining room, shouting orders to get down.
On the camera feed, we saw Damian step out of his office, looking annoyed at the commotion. When he saw the FBI windbreakers, the arrogant smirk melted off his face instantly. He turned to run toward the alley exit, but two agents tackled him hard onto the polished hardwood floor.
I watched with immense satisfaction as they twisted his arms behind his back and snapped heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
“Damian Prescott, you are under arrest for federal money laundering, wire fraud, forgery, and conspiracy under the RICO act,” an agent’s voice echoed through the comms.
They dragged Damian out of the restaurant in front of dozens of flashing cell phone cameras. The empire he had built on my daughter's suffering was crumbling in real-time.
“We got him,” Robert smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder.
But Reynolds didn't look happy. He was tapping his earpiece frantically.
“What’s wrong?” Chloe asked, noticing the agent’s grim expression.
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“The raid teams breached Elias Thorne’s mansion at the same time,” Reynolds grunted, slamming his hand on the table. “The house is completely empty. The safe is cleared out. Someone tipped him off. Thorne is gone.”
The victory suddenly felt hollow. Damian was behind bars, but the true architect of the nightmare was loose in the wind.
