Page 106 of King of Praise
The efficiency of their response steadies me somewhat. This is what we do—solve problems, handle crises, protect our own. And Naomi has become one of ours.
“Got it.” Seb’s sharp exclamation draws us to his laptop. “Security footage from the last hour. Quality’s not great but—”
We crowd around the screen, watching grainy images of a black SUV approaching the cabin. Two men emerge—professionals based on their movements, faces obscured by ski masks. The actual break-in happens off-camera, but minutes later they emerge half-carrying, half-dragging an unconscious Naomi.
My hands clench into fists as I watch them bundle her into the vehicle. The image is too poor to make out details of her condition, but the limp way she hangs between them suggests some level of violence was used to subdue her.
Before they put her in the car, the camera cuts off, leaving us with nothing but static.
“Can you go back and enhance the license plate?” I ask through gritted teeth.
Seb shakes his head. “Too blurry. But the SUV is a newer model Escalade with custom wheels. I can run it through traffic cams, see if we can track their route.”
“Do it.” I turn to Zeke, seeing the same grim calculation in his expression that I feel. “This was Francesca’s doing.”
“Possibly.” He studies the frozen image on screen. “Question is, how did they know where to find her? We didn’t even know about the cabin.”
There’s no judgement in Zeke’s tone. I needed to keep Noami safe and the less people who knew her location the better. He understands that. The only explanation for her discovery is someone must have tracked me despite my precautions.
“Time frame?” Eli asks, rejoining us after making his calls.
I check my watch, forcing past the panic clawing at my chest. “Olivia’s call came in twelve minutes ago. Add maybe five minutes between the attack and her getting through to us. They’ve got less than a twenty-minute head start.”
“Main roads from that area are limited,” Seb adds, pulling up a map. “If they’re heading back to Columbus, there are only three likely routes. I’m accessing traffic cameras now.”
I nod mechanically, mind racing through possibilities. Who would take her? Why? The timing, coming just as we prepare to move against the Barone family, seems unlikely to be coincidence. But something about this feels personal and not purely tactical.
“Her personal phone,” I say suddenly. “Can we track it?”
“Already tried.” Seb doesn’t look up from his rapid typing. “Signal’s dead. They either destroyed it or removed the battery.”
Another professional touch. These people know what they’re doing. The thought sends a fresh wave of fear through my veins as I imagine Naomi at their mercy.
I will find you.Whatever it takes. Whoever has you. I will burn this city to the ground if I have to.
My knuckles turnwhite as I grip the edge of Zeke’s desk, struggling to maintain the calm exterior I’ve spent decades perfecting. The polished wood beneath my fingers grounds me, gives me something tangible to focus on beyond the storm raging inside my chest. The air in this back office feels suddenly thin, insufficient. I force myself to breathe anyway, to think clearly despite the vice tightening around my heart.
Naomi is gone.
Three simple words have destroyed the careful compartmentalization I’ve relied on my entire professional life.
I pull out her personal phone and dial her number for the seventh time. I don’t know why I keep torturing myself with this. Something to do maybe.
I get the same result I got the first six times I tried—straight to voicemail, her gentle voice instructing me to leave a message. The normalcy of the recording feels like a knife twisting in my gut. I hang up without speaking and slide the phone back into my pocket.
“Still nothing.” My voice sounds foreign to my own ears, stripped of its usual control and raw with an emotion I haven’t allowed myself to feel in decades. Fear. Not for myself, but for Naomi.
Eli stands by the door, his massive frame blocking the entrance as though physically protecting our planning session from interruption. His expression remains stoic, but I recognize the subtle tells of his anger—the slight flare of his nostrils, the tightening around his eyes. We’ve been through hell together.
I didn’t tell him how far things had gone with Naomi. We aren’t the type to share details like that. But he knows me better than most. We don’t need to exchange words for him to know what Naomi means to me.
Sebastian paces the length of the room. “Olivia’s on her way,” he says, pocketing his phone. “She heard everything through Naomi’s phone until the connection cut. She might have details we need.”
I nod, grateful for their efforts as I struggle to process the reality of our situation.
“There’s more,” Seb says with an edge to his tone. I meet his hard gaze. “Olivia’s been to the cabin.”
“What?” The question barrels out of my chest. “When? How?”
