The alert came through while I was mid–flight, halfway across the sky between Vienna and Spain. I was sipping coffee when my phone buzzed in my hand. Elle’s guard had radioed in ter minutes ago with no response from the restroom. No eyes on her. No movement.
dropped the cup. I didn’t even feel the scalding spill on my hand.
‘Turn the fucking plane around or fly faster,” I snapped to the pilot, storming into the cockpit. “I his jet doesn’t land in thirty, I will personally gut the engines.”
Michael caught my wrist and pulled me back gently, but I shoved him off.
Call every checkpoint. Now. I want every road blocked, every border sealed, every goddamn port shut,” I growled, pacing the aisle like I couldn’t breathe. “Someone took her. Someone dared to ake my daughter.”
Niko’s voice was low, trying to anchor me. “Geneva. Breathe. We’ll find her.”
didn’t care for breathing.
‘Bring me her guards. Every one of them. I want names and I want their throats.”
When we landed, I didn’t wait for escorts. I didn’t wait for security. I marched straight into the Montenegro command bunker where the guards, the teacher, and the poisoned janitress were already seated–lined up like cowards blinking under white light.
stepped in and slammed Elle’s drawing on the metal table in front of them. My voice cut hrough like fire in a room full of gasoline.
Which one of you let her out of your sight?”
They all looked scared. Good.
The teacher stammered, “I–I let her go to the restroom. She had her phone. She said she’d be quick. There were guards nearby, I swear.”
turned to the guards. “You stood there. You guarded the air while my daughter vanished. Did you see anyone? Anything?”
One of them shifted, shaking slightly. “A janitress passed by, ma’am. Old. Limp in her step. No hreat. We checked her ID. She’s been cleaning there for a week.”
looked at the poisoned janitress, still weak, trembling in the chair.
‘She’s the only janitress scheduled,” Michael said.
Pull CCTV,” I ordered.
The footage came up. Grainy. East Wing hallway. 11:48 a.m. I watched the girl on screen–Elle- walk toward the restroom. A janitress passed by minutes later, pushing a large bin.
‘Zoom,” I said.
The face was older. Wrinkled. Makeup? Mask? I leaned in. The arm. A brief angle when she bushed the cart and her sleeve rose. There it was. That cursed mark. A spade–shaped birthmark on the right arm.
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de Strapped Bombs to Our Babies–for Her
1:01 pm P
I froze.
“That’s her,” I whispered.
Niko leaned closer. “Wait, is that-?”
“Yes.”
I stood slowly, eyes locked on the screen, then turned back to the table of people behind me.
“You’re dismissed. You’re all useless, but not guilty. Go.”
The teacher opened her mouth to say thank you, but I had already turned my back.
I faced Niko and Michael fully.
“I want Margot Jenner and her parents found. I want her face on every border alert, every airport camera, every black market channel. I want her name cursed in every city we step into. I want her caught breathing but just barely. Drag her to me, and if anyone gets in your way…” I exhale and whispered like it was gospel, “You bury them.”
Michael nodded once. Niko cracked his knuckles.
I picked up Elle’s drawing again and stared at her innocent handwriting.
“You took my son,” I said to no one. “You don’t get to take my daughter too.”
I stood up slowly, took a deep breath, and wiped my face.
“I’m going to kill her. I swear to every god and devil listening–I will kill her. And I’ll smile when
do.”
I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. My body ran on rage and instinct. Every screen in the command room blinked with new leads, new useless dead ends, and I could feel my pulse in my teeth.
Then Michael stepped into the room.
“He knows,” he said. “Niccolo.”
I didn’t turn around. “Let him know. But tell him to stay the hell out of my way.”
Michael didn’t move. “He wants to help.”
I finally faced him. My voice was sharper than any gun in this room. “He wanted to help? He should’ve protected her before Margot ever got near our lives. He should’ve burned the witch. when he had the chance.”
Michael gave a short nod, but didn’t step out.
Then the steel doors opened with a hiss that echoed through the war room like judgment.
Two Montenegro guards entered–dragging them.
Margot’s parents.
The once–vaunted Mr. and Mrs. Jenner, lords of their polished world, kings and queens of deception, now stumbling across the stone floor like shivering, disgraced animals. Their wrists were zip–tied behind their backs, their hair a mess, their designer coats ripped from being dragged across three borders under surveillance.
Their knees hit the ground hard when the guards forced them down in front of me. I didn’t flinch. I watched. And I let silence choke the room.
Chapter 27
Their eyes met mine. Terrified. Not just scared for their daughter but for themselves. And they
should be.
“Geneva–please,” Mr. Jenner began first. His voice cracked. I tilted my head. Watched the sweat bead at his temples.
“I didn’t know-” he tried again.
“Wrong answer,” I said, my voice sharp but calm. “Try again.”
He swallowed hard and looked down. “We… we didn’t mean for it to go this far. We didn’t know she would hurt a child. We thought Eli died by mistake, we never knew the bomb wasn’t fake until-”
“Until what?” I cut in coldly. “Until you watched my son’s name get erased like dirt under your daughter’s nails?”
Mrs. Jenner started to cry. She fell forward, palms slapping the floor. “Please–Geneva, please- we’re her parents. We did what parents do. We protected her. We believed her lies. We didn’t know-”
“You knew,” I whispered. “You funded every lie. You housed her. You hid her. You watched he destroy my name in your living room while sipping champagne and playing aristocrat. And now my daughter is missing. So tell me…” I stepped closer, so close I could hear their ragged breaths.
“Where. Is. She.”
They both broke.
“She cut contact with us after the gala,” her mother sobbed. “We tried calling her but she burned her phones. We don’t know where she is. I swear it, I swear on my life-”
“Don’t,” I said. “Your life means nothing.”
‘Please, we’re just parents. Please don’t kill us,” her father begged. “You’re a mother now, you understand that pain, don’t you? What it means to love a child so much you’d lie, you’d sacrifice
slapped him.
Not hard. Just enough.
The room stilled.
‘I love my children,” I said. “That’s the difference. I would’ve died for them. You? You destroyed mine to protect the empty carcass you raised. And now Elle is gone. Gone. And I’m supposed to feel what, #wempathy? No. All I feel is fire.”
They knelt there, broken. Crying. Trembling. Faces swollen with shame and panic.
‘I’ll give you one chance,” I said finally. “You want mercy? Earn it.”
Their eyes lit up, desperate.
I looked at Michael. “Lower cells. No lights. No food. Twenty–four hours. Let them pray.”
They started screaming.
“Please! Please! We’re old! We’re not part of this-”
“She’s your blood,” I said, stepping away. “And now she’ll bleed because of you.”
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